“I’m not blind. You were all over her before I walked in. You might be fulfilling a high school fantasy, but the cost could be chaos in your already-screwed-up family.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” He blurted the denial, angry it was half-true. Sex with Delaney was a fantasy that had stayed with him since high school. But this—whatever this was between them—was totally different from anything he’d ever imagined. “Drop it, Caleb. It’s been a long, shitty day. And you just ruined the only good thing that’s happened to me today.”
“I’m not dropping it,” he said, leaning against a workbench and crossing his arms, his expression serious now. “I’m your friend, and I’m not going to watch you walk right into the shredder without warning you. You have enough shit to deal with without adding a fling with Delaney. Dude, she ruined your life. She may not have meant to, but doesn’t it even bother you a little to think of how different things would be for you now if she hadn’t started that fight? You’d be running some department at Lawrence Livermore Lab or heading up a special ops unit for the Department of Defense, not repaying favors for your father and dicking around in a warehouse brewery. I mean, sure she’s hot enough to forget all about grudges while you’re doing her, but—”
“She didn’t start that fight.” The bark cut off his friend and echoed through the unit. “Anyone with any common sense knows that. And I’m not holding grudges, because she didn’t ruin my life. The decision not to go to the bar with them that night was mine. The decision to stay home from school to pick up the pieces of my family was mine. She didn’t have anything to do with it. Why does everyone around here see things with a smoke screen when it’s all so damn clear?”
“Clear? Really? If it’s all so damn clear, why haven’t you ever let go of the guilt, huh? Why are you still in this rinky-dink town? Why are you still doing a goddamned job where your father makes you jump like a schoolgirl playing hopscotch?”
“Because I’m working toward a goal. Because if I throw away my chance at this brewery, at this chance to give Pops even a fraction of the support he’s given me, my Dad’s won. Then where am I? And where does that leave Pops?” Ethan remembered how his father had talked to him at the dinner table. How he’d ordered him around as if Ethan had no will of his own, no thoughts of his own, no feelings. And the familiar burn of resentment built in his chest. “No. That fucker’s not taking this from me.”
“For a smart guy, you can be so fucking stupid when it comes to relationships. If you screw this up, he may not have to take it from you. Your uncle might do that for him. Or the city manager. Hell, you might just do it to yourself.” Caleb bent to grab a case of beer on the shelf designated for Finley’s Market. When he straightened, he met Ethan’s eyes directly. “Let me clear a little of that sexual haze floating around your brain. If your family discovers you’re wandering off the reservation, it’ll blow those already-rocky relationships wide-open. And you can bet having your father and the mayor as an enemy when you’re planning on opening a business in his town will be all it takes for you to ruin your own future.
“Which brings up another—and possibly even bigger—problem. Messing around with Delaney would be a huge, and I mean huge, conflict of interest for your job if she decides to renovate that bar. And if she decides to renovate that bar, it would screw your whole plan for—”
“I know, goddammit.” He didn’t want to be angry, but this situation was so screwed, he couldn’t control it. “Stop lecturing me. Take your beer and get out.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head with a huff. “Man, I heard all the rumors about her back in high school. Sorta always believed it was a bunch
of biker bullshit. But now . . . she must be one hell of a blockbuster in bed to make you risk everything—”
“Caleb.” Ethan hoisted another case of beer, then met his gaze head-on. “You’re my friend, and we’ve been through a lot together, but if you say anything like that again, you’re going to need a crap-ton of new dental work. Got it?”
Ethan tossed the case of beer into his friend’s truck, and it landed with a hollow metal thud.
Caleb dropped his case on the tailgate and shoved it into the bed, then turned to face Ethan with a hand at his hip and a stupid grin on his face.
“Never thought I’d see the day. Of all the women to fall for.” He shook his head and started back inside. “Damn, Hayes, you do like to make trouble for yourself.”
Ethan opened his mouth to tell Caleb he hadn’t fallen for anyone. But Delaney’s face filled his mind—the tormented look that washed over her features when she believed she’d hurt him, the flare of heat in her eyes when she wanted him, the way she kissed him as if she needed him to breathe . . .
He shut his mouth, and his eyes slid closed.
Evidently, Ethan did like to make trouble for himself.
Big trouble.
He definitely needed to get that shit under control.
SEVEN
Ethan could not wait to sign off on this project. The sooner he got Sam Boyd off his schedule, the better.
“So, we’re good, right?” The burly man strode behind Ethan down the long hallway of the multi-million-dollar mansion, checking off inspection details. “Because I leave for Italy in—”
“Two days.” Ethan had to resist the urge to elbow Boyd in the ribs to get the man’s hot breath off his neck. “So you said.”
He stepped into the gourmet kitchen, rich in slate, granite, stainless steel, and cherry woods, and checked his watch. This would be another day without lunch thanks to good old Dad.
Pops may be right about where Ethan needed to focus his time and energy, but having a father like Jack was a little like having a father in the mob. Once you got pulled in, getting out involved bloodshed.
“So what’s going on with the Hart girl?” Sam asked. “Jack’s pretty bent out of shape about her showing up here. Can’t say I blame him. That whole family was nothing but a—”
“My dad was a contortionist in another life. He gets bent out of shape about a lot of things.”
Ethan focused on the rich stone flooring, then scanned the smooth granite-topped island and ran his fingers along the joints in the matching countertops, fighting to keep his frustration under control.
He’d been asked at least two dozen times about the Hart girl since she’d arrived in town, almost two weeks ago now, and he was sick of fielding questions about things he couldn’t answer. Things he wanted to know just as much as everyone else. Like where she’d been all these years, how she’d hooked up with Pacific Coast’s Finest, how she’d learned about historical renovation, what she planned to do with the bar, and how long she was staying.