Victoria Dahl - The Guy Next Door

“It’s so good to be back!” she said, stretching her arms out in the humid air.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do while you’re visiting Key West?” Jesse’s eyes were full of humor as he tossed her suitcase into the trunk of his car.

“Of course. I made a list,” Gail answered.

“Is it a long list?”

“Very. An entire month’s worth of activities.”

Jesse came toward her, his grin getting bigger as the distance between them disappeared. He nudged her until her butt hit the side of the car then pressed his hard and strong body against hers.

“Do we have to do them in any particular order?” he asked.

“That won’t be a concern.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Gail gazed up into his dark blue eyes, wagging her eyebrow teasingly. “Because there’s only one item on my list, but I want to do it over and over again.”

Jesse laughed, moving in for the kiss. “I’m sure that can be arranged, my wild one.”

This story is for Tara. Thanks for bringing me back to Boulder.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Colorado! The first time I saw Boulder I couldn’t believe it was a real place. For a girl who grew up on the plains, Boulder looked like a magical town plucked from a television show. (Specifically, Mork & Mindy. It was set here.) But the real town is even better than anything you’d see on film. Boulder is a stunningly beautiful place. There are mountain peaks, aspen groves, ice-cold creeks and gorgeous neighborhoods. And there are the people of Boulder, who are smart and creative and take pride in being a local.

I hope they don’t mind that I’ve added a few more locals to the mix with the Donovan family. This family of three siblings runs Donovan Brothers Brewery right in the heart of Boulder. Tessa is the youngest of the family and the only sister, but she keeps her brothers wrapped around her little finger…while she keeps them in the dark about her extracurricular life. Jamie runs the front room at the brewery with ruthless charm and a devastating smile, though he can’t manage to get control of his love life. And then there’s the oldest brother, Eric…

Eric Donovan took charge of the family and the brewery at the age of twenty-three, and he doesn’t have a rebellious bone in his body. He’s the soul of responsibility…until the night he meets Beth Cantrell in a hotel hallway and decides there’s something to be said for an occasional walk on the wild side. Even the most straitlaced guy needs to loosen up once in a while, and Beth is a woman experienced in small-town discretion.

I hope you come to love Boulder and the Donovan family as much as I do. Happy reading! And I’ll see you back in Boulder soon!

All my best,

Victoria

ERIC DONOVAN DIDN’T often fantasize about strangling his younger brother. But this time, Jamie had outdone himself, and Eric was glad his brother wasn’t within arm’s reach.

The roar of the convention hall assaulted Eric’s ears, the noise ratcheting his tension to a whole new level as he handed out samples of Donovan Brothers beer to the crowds. Their booth was one of the most popular at the Boulder Business Expo, which was exactly why Jamie was supposed to be handling beer duty. Jamie was the face of Donovan Brothers, after all. Eric worked behind the scenes.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he shoved the tray of Flatiron Amber Ale toward the reaching hands and watched half the miniglasses disappear into the feeding frenzy.

“Well?” he snapped into the phone.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I can’t track him down. I’m going to have to stay at the brewery to cover his shift.”

“Shit,” Eric growled, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus his thoughts. “Jamie, this is…less than ideal.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I warned you that it’s never a good idea to hire a friend. And that goes doubly for you and the kind of slackers you hang around with. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I sent Henry over. He’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Henry is a dishwasher!”

“He can hand out samples as well as anyone else.”

Eric wiped a hand over his face and shook his head. “All right. I’ll handle it.” As usual.

“I’ll try to get—”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later.” The samples of ale were already gone. Eric snapped the phone shut and rushed to play bartender, checking the faces again to be sure they were all middle-aged. No problem there. The expo wasn’t exactly bubbling with teenagers.

Eric didn’t have his brother’s charm or easy way, but he could at least draw a few samples and get them out to the crowds. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hand out samples and strike a new distribution deal at the same time. Given the choice, he would’ve pulled out of this local conference altogether rather than miss the chance to negotiate with the owner of High West Air.

The airline was based in Denver and designed to compete with the newer, high-quality airlines. High West offered more legroom, no luggage fees and warm brownies on every flight. And Eric was this close to closing a deal to make Donovan Bothers Brewery the only beer on the menu. High West wanted something hipper than a big name brand, and Eric was determined to fill that need. It was a perfect partnership, but the owner of the airline was an arrogant pain in the ass and took pride in never being available for a meeting.

This time, Eric had him cornered. Roland Ken dall was at the expo, and Eric was going to nail him down.

Fifteen minutes later, he saw Henry hurrying toward the booth, and he felt his blood pressure drop a notch or two. This day could still be salvaged from the ruins, regardless of Jamie’s screwup. Henry, thankfully, had been outfitted in a brand-new Donovan Brothers polo shirt, so he looked almost like an actual bartender. He also looked closer to seventeen than twenty-one, so Eric could only pray the kid had brought his ID in case the authorities stopped by.

“Mr. Donovan,” he panted. “Jamie said—”

“Can you draw a beer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, keep the samples going out. Be polite. Smile. Ask for ID if anyone looks under thirty-five. And direct any questions to me. All right?”

“Sure. No problem.”

Keeping one eye on Henry to be sure he could handle the task, Eric pulled out his phone and placed a call to Roland Kendall. “Yeah?” a harsh voice answered.

“Mr. Kendall, this is Eric Donovan. I’m hoping to take you to lunch today.”

The man grunted in response. He was a grouch, no question about it, and he loved being the one with the upper hand. “I can’t do lunch,” he barked. “I’m getting together with a supplier.” A real supplier, he meant. Eric ground his teeth together, hard. He’d been working this bastard for six months. “Dinner then?”

“Not tonight.”

He tempered his voice, hoping to hide his frustration. “How about tomorrow? Mr. Kendall, you know how determined I am to secure this contract. Give me one chance to tell you what we have to offer.”

Another grunt. Eric rolled his eyes.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Kendall said just before the line went dead.

Christ, this guy was killing him. The bastard clearly wanted Eric to do a little more begging. Fine. He was strong enough to handle that if it meant taking the brewery to the next level. Getting his beer into the hands of national travelers would create new demand for the product. And new demand meant new territory.

He snapped the phone shut and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Donovan?” Henry called.

Eric took a deep breath. When he looked up, he saw that Henry was scrambling with the glasses but still keeping up. Then Henry tipped his head toward the far edge of the table, and Eric saw a familiar face and found himself smiling for real.

“Donovan!” Andrés Villanueva called with a wave. He was the top chef in Boulder and had just opened another restaurant that the critics were going nuts for. Eric grabbed two samples and headed over.

“Congratulations on all the buzz,” he said, handing Andrés a glass. They clicked glasses and downed the ale, and Eric felt marginally more relaxed as the bitter coolness soothed his nerves.

“Hey, we got your new summer wheat on tap,” Andrés said. “Really nice. A little hoppier than last year’s. I like it. Give my compliments to your brewmaster.”

“I will, thanks.”

“We’re having a tasting dinner tonight in the Evergreen suite. Come by. Seven o’clock.”

“I hope you’re serious, because I haven’t managed to sit down to one of your meals in months.”

“Absolutely. Bring Jamie, too.”

“He’s covering the bar today.”

“Damn,” Andrés said with a grin. “I was hoping he’d bring a beautiful date I could steal out from under his nose. I swear to God, I almost succeeded with that blonde he brought in last fall.”

Eric could only laugh, because he’d be damned if he could figure out which blonde it might’ve been. “I’ll see you at seven.”

By the time Andrés moved on to the next booth, Eric’s mood was considerably lighter. He wanted to get out from behind the table and mix it up himself, but until his brother got the staffing mess straightened out back at the brewery, Eric was going to be stuck here. He’d better make the most of it.

The brewery was in a unique position. Sure, they needed all the friends he could garner in the food and beverage industry in Colorado, but contacts outside the industry were important too. Donovan Brothers wasn’t a restaurant-style business. It was strictly the brewery and tasting room. So to keep their name in the public eye, they sponsored marathons and charity events. They threw parties at the finish line of bike races and worked with up-and-coming art galleries on openings. Eric had worked damn hard to saturate the Colorado market of restaurants and bars, and now it was time to expand.

He worked the crowd until the lunchtime lull then stepped back to return a call from his glassware supplier. Halfway through the conversation, he caught sight of a woman a few booths down. She wore a straight brown skirt that stopped at a respectable length, just a millimeter below her knees, but the fabric cradled her tight ass like a glove. His words slowed to a stop.

“Eric?” the salesman prompted.

“Right. Sorry. Yeah, Wednesday will be fine. I’ll see you then.” He disconnected, his eyes still locked on the brunette as she laughed and shook her head at a man visiting her table. Her dark hair was pinned up in some sort of professional-looking twist, and she wore a white button-down blouse with her brown skirt. Totally conservative, yet something about her radiated sensuality. Maybe it was the small waist offset by that round little ass. Maybe it was the long neck. Or maybe it was the pair of four-inch dark green heels he glimpsed when she walked to the far end of her booth.

Yeah. It was definitely the heels.

Eric cleared his throat and got busy unpacking more of the souvenir glasses. He stacked them within easy reach of the tap, gathered up the used glasses people had left behind and stowed them in the empty box. Then he glanced toward the other booth again. This time, she was on the phone, looking serious now, nibbling on a fingernail while she listened. Eric watched as her lips closed over the tip of one finger before she shook her head and started talking. He knew he was only imagining the tiny glint of wetness on her nail, but he narrowed his eyes anyway.

She probably wasn’t as sexy as he thought she was. He was just stressed. And she had a sweet face that seemed a warning against thinking dirty thoughts. He spared one more look for her curves then put his head down and finished packing. But when he stood and hoisted the box to his shoulder, his eyes swept by her again, and he realized she was watching.

His double take was less than subtle. There was no covering it up. Her eyes slid away, but they touched on him again a second later. Her lips quirked in the briefest of smiles.

With the box on his shoulder, Eric couldn’t just stand there staring, so he turned and walked out of the booth, his head buzzing with awareness. He couldn’t quite tell her age—somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, maybe. Old enough that she wasn’t just some pretty face hired to be a marketing bunny.