Words….from PARADISE HOPS. a stand alone fan favorite. amazon/Paradise-Hops-Liz-Crowe-ebook/dp/B009QBLIOQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1395265387&sr=8-1&keywords=paradise+hops Lori Meets Garrett: Lori breezed past her father’s secretary’s desk intent on the report she had from the restaurant manager. Sticking a lock of unruly hair behind her ear, she opened the office door, already talking to him. Dad, I’m worried about Frank’s side of this. Honestly, I don’t think he considered…Oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks. Heavy horn rims slid down her nose. “Lori, allow me to introduce Garrett Hunter. He’s the business manager I told you about.” Ron Brockton rose from his massive desk and joined her at the door, putting his usual protective arm around her waist. The man-vision that had her choking on her own spit stood up and stuck out a hand. She looked at it, then blinked when her dad jabbed her in the ribs. “Uh, hi.” She wiped a palm on her itchy wool skirt. The vision’s slightly crooked smile widened. His deep green eyes never once faltered from hers. If anything they started to twinkle. Jesus. Eyes actually did that? “Pleased to meet you. Your father has been telling me about your project.” Lori stared at their still-joined hands, wondering how long they could stay connected and it still be considered polite. He kept talking and she kept gawking. “Immersing yourself in every aspect of the business, from back of the house food prep to accounting is a really great way to learn it all.” He gave her palm one last squeeze, then dropped it, leaving her feeling oddly bereft. She gulped. “Oh, um, yeah.” Wow. Way to impress Mr. Perfect, Lori. Nicely done. When the specimen before her smiled, Lori’s heart stuttered, really and truly, just like in the romance novels she’d once loved but had abandoned. “So, Garrett, why don’t I let Lori show you around?” She gaped at her father’s words. She already sensed sweat gathering under her pits. She must reek of desperate female. “No, Dad, I….” “That would be great, Ron, thanks.” Lori swallowed hard and stared at Garrett Hunter long and hard. He commanded the room as if he were six foot ten instead of his perfectly average six foot one. Thick chestnut brown hair was cut close, clean, like the smooth line of his perfectly square jaw. The words “noble Roman profile” sprung to mind as she pondered his nose and chin and those incredible deep emerald eyes. The expensive-looking gray suit fit him perfectly. Her father cleared his throat. She jumped, dropped the spreadsheet she’d been clutching, bent down to grab it as her elbow hit a coffee cup on the nearby table. Warm, black liquid dripped onto the hardwood floor. “Christ,” she muttered. “Sorry, I’m a klutz.” She glared at both men. Her father frowned then his face softened. “It’s okay honey. I’ll get this. You show Garrett around.” “But….” she creaked out one final protest. Garrett kept quiet. Awkward. “Fine. But I only have about twenty minutes.” “Take your time Lori.” Her father waved a hand. “I’ll tell Frank he can wait.” By the time she’d reached the end of the tour, Lori figured Garrett must think her an utter dolt or the most lame-ass introvert on the planet. She’d stuttered and spluttered through introductions, company history and could smell the flop sweat oozing from her pores. She took a breath before turning to face him. The look in his eyes—something between sympathy and mild amusement—got her unnerved all over again. “So, ah, yeah. That’s it, I guess.” She slumped against a tall fermentation vessel angry at him for making her feel out of place the only place she’d ever felt truly at home—her family’s three generation craft brewery. “My next cycle of work is here, on the floor. I start in about a week, right after the new brewmaster comes on board.” “I heard. Eli Buchanan. Pretty hot shit, that kid.” He made no move to end their chat. Lori tried to relax, but a sickeningly familiar rush of fear made her head pound. Garrett frowned as if sensing her distress and moved closer, forcing her to take a step back until her butt met the tall metal vessel. “Uh, sorry, I should go.” She side stepped him and glanced at her phone. “You can head back the other way. Dad just texted me. He’s ready to meet with you again.” She turned without another word and hightailed it towards the locker room. Standing with her hand to her damp skinned face, she took long, deep breaths. Then dropped down onto a bench, heart in her throat. He’s just a man, Lori. Not a predator. Calm down. She tried to visualize the beach, ocean waves, anything to quell the onrushing panic attack. But it kept moving towards her, smothering her like a dark, heavy blanket. “Stop!” she shouted into the empty room, employing yet another coping technique foisted on her in therapy “Stop right now.” She stood, went to the sink and splashed water on her face and swiped at her damp armpits with a paper towel. Her face crumpled. A tear ran down her cheek. She was weak, afraid and angry, unable to stop the descent into despair. Garrett forced himself not to stare at the compelling sway of Lori’s hips as she stomped away, recalling that split second he’d laid eyes on her. Her huge hazel eyes, blinking like a deer in the headlights behind those ridiculous glasses had made him catch his breath. He’d tried to stay casual but remembered having to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from tucking a dark corkscrew strand of hair behind her ear. He squared his shoulder and shot the cuffs of the too-expensive shirt, then turned to head back in the direction she had indicated. It awaited him there—a contract for his dream job: business manager for the largest craft brewery in the state of Michigan. A soft sound made him stop. Not quite a moan, more like a loud sigh of unhappiness floated out from the dark depths where Lori had disappeared. He found a door labeled “employees only” and shrugged, shouldering his way through it. He was within minutes of being an employee anyway, he self-justified the trespass when he heard it again, accompanied by a gasp and shout. “Stop!” The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Was someone hurting her? He reached out to push the locker room door open. An older woman he recognized from earlier in the day materialized seemingly out of nowhere and put a hand on his arm. “She’s okay hon. Leave her alone.” “But she’s…” He gestured towards the door behind which the unmistakable sounds of female distress emanated. Nothing made him launch into full frontal protective mode like the sound of a woman crying. As the younger brother to three sisters he’d been well trained in that department. “No, no, it’s all right. She does this sometimes and is best left alone. Poor dear. She’s been through so much.” Garrett bit his tongue against the urge to ask what exactly was making the beautiful woman hiding in the locker room sob as if her heart were breaking. He took his hand off the door, determined to wait it out and see her again. The older woman crossed her arms over an ample bosom. Garrett stared her down, employing the most severe “I’m the boss” look he could conjure. She didn’t budge. He made a mental note to give her a promotion. “Okay. I’ll leave her alone.” “There’s a love.” She patted his arm, while not so subtly steering him out of the hallway and back towards the main building.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 22:27:40 +0000
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