Real Men Will (Donovan Brothers Brewery 3)

“That is a rush.”

“Jesus,” Eric spat. “Do you know how much this is going to screw up my distribution schedule?”

The mechanic shrugged.

“Why didn’t you see it the first time you were poking around in here? Or the second?”

The guy shrugged again, and Eric immediately decided to call someone else next time. Someone with a goddamned work ethic. “Order the part,” he growled before slamming out of the bottling room.

“What’s up?” Tessa asked when Eric stalked into the kitchen.

“The line’s down for five days. We’ll have to ramp up keg production.” His mind was already rearranging schedules. “Once the bottling is back up, we won’t have time for kegs, so we’ll stockpile them now. As it is, two grocery store orders will be late. Goddamn it, when is Wallace coming back?”

“Leave him alone. He’s rescuing his true love.”

“True love and Wallace Hood. God save us all.”

The mechanic emerged and sneaked out the back door without another word.

“I hate that guy,” Eric muttered. He glanced down at Tessa’s hands, which were wrist-deep in flour. “What are you doing?”

“Making pizza dough.” She tilted her head toward the oven. “The oven’s hot enough.”

“Where’s Jamie?”

“He’s running an errand. So…” She pushed down on the dough and flipped it over onto the floured surface. “Where were you this morning?”

“In bed,” he snapped.

“Ah. But whose bed?”

“Mine.”

“That’s weird, because I called your home phone first.”

“I was sleeping,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

He wanted to walk away, but he was afraid Tessa would take that as a sign of guilt, so instead he reached for the tray of glasses that had just emerged from the washer.

“You know,” Tessa drawled as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Now that I know you have a personal life—”

“I don’t,” he cut in.

“—I’m seeing you in a whole new light. I kind of wonder if I’ve been missing things all these years.”

“There’s nothing to miss.” He sighed.

“Oh, really?”

Eric shoved a dirty tray in and started to brush past his sister, but she reached out and grabbed his arm.

“So what’s this?” she asked. “A whole lot of nothing?”

Eric glanced at his arm, already shaking his head in denial, but then he saw the marks. Four perfect red crescents where Beth’s nails had bitten in. Not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to leave vivid evidence.

“Unruly customer,” he said quickly.