Enemies on Tap (Sweet Salvation Brewery 1)
He leaned back and put his elbows on the table, stretching his legs so that the outside of his thigh brushed against hers. “You got out of here. Away from what people expected and your pre-determined role. Why come back?”
She sighed. “That was one of the first things the brewery staff asked me when I got here.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“Maybe I wanted to show people they were wrong about me. About my family.” Her jaw tightened as if she were holding back from telling him more. “Not all of us can be town royalty.”
“I’d abdicate if I could.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“I’ve been locked in that role since I was born. After my mother died, there were…problems.” Now there was an understatement. “I thought I’d get to leave after college, but instead I did what was expected and went to work at the bank. My life was planned out from the moment I was born.”
“How does putting the Sweet Salvation Brewery out of business and replacing it with an industrial park fit into that?”
“It would help Salvation attract business. It would help my family. But also because it would be mine. Something I did, not my dad or his dad or his dad before him.” He’d never said it out loud before, not even to himself, but they were the truest words he’d ever spoken. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”
“What happens at the Hamilton Riverbank stays at the Hamilton Riverbank.” She swiveled toward him, the movement drawing her leg more fully against his.
The moon came out from behind a cloud, bathing her in its pale glow. Her wavy hair danced against her full tits, and she sucked on her bottom lip. Lust hit him as hard as a Mack truck, flattening his defenses. For a second, he let himself imagine what it would be like to toss her over one shoulder and carry her down to the river’s edge. He’d peel away her Sweet Salvation Brewery T-shirt and jeans and see her like he had that night. His hand twitched at his side with the need to touch her, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t high school anymore.
“How about you?” He jerked his chin toward the brewery. “Looking to slay some personal demons?”
“You could say that. I need to make the brewery profitable to get a promotion at work. I’ve been putting in crazy hours for years, and it’s my time.”
Their families were enemies—would always be enemies—nothing could change that. Not that night so long ago and not a story so close to his own. That’s how things worked in Salvation.
“So really, you want to help me to succeed. It means finally getting the Sweets out of Salvation, which is the unofficial town motto.”
She laughed, softening the true statement. The sound swirled around them like a newly fallen leaf on the breeze. Their gazes caught, his mouth went dry, and his heart sped up. Want and need and expectation twisted his insides in an effort to pry apart the fibers of what he’d always known to be true: Martins and Sweets were enemies.
“But then I’d lose the bet.” He held on to the last word in his mind, like a glaring neon sign reminding him of what was at stake.
“Oh yes.” Her smile faltered, and she glanced up at the stars lighting up the night sky, weariness lining her beautiful face. “The bet. I’d almost forgotten with our little momentary truce here tonight.”
She angled her body so she was only inches from him, close enough that loose strands of her hair tossed around in the breeze tickled his cheek, and looked up. Slivers of softness showed thrown her usual hardened exterior. He didn’t see weakness in her blue eyes, but isolation and hunger—both of which he understood at a bone-deep level, and part of him hated her at that moment for making him see so much of himself in her.
“Not me.” He couldn’t, no matter what. “Do you know what they charge for ads in that newspaper?”
“I could offer to half it with you.” Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and she licked her bottom lip.
“Nah, that would go against the spirit of the bet.” He forced his gaze away from her pink tongue even as his body responded like a well-trained dog. “We couldn’t have that.”
A car engine purred to life in the parking lot. Miranda started, and a flush pinkened her cheeks. She jumped up from the table, brushing away the dirt from her high, firm ass. “It’s getting late. I should be heading out.”
“Can I walk you to your car?”
“I think I can manage on my own, if you can be trusted not to damage the place when I leave you alone.”
Her smile hit Logan hard, and he realized how long it had been since anyone but Hud had joked with him.
He held up a hand. “Martin’s honor.” Uttering the phrase caused a pang of guilt.
Miranda didn’t seem to notice. “Goodnight then.” She turned and took a step away.
He snagged her hand before she could go any farther. Electricity zipped up his arm. “Thanks.”
Imaginings of what could have been if she was just a woman and he was just a man left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. But as it was, she was a Sweet and he was a Martin. They’d been down that path before, and he’d been left shell shocked when she’d ran not just from Salvation but from him. There was no possibility of anything more now.