Free Paradise Hops by Liz Crowe Page A

shoulders ached. “You’re an asshole, Eli Buchanan. You think you can show me this and I’ll just,” she stopped. Eli stayed in his seat, staring at her.
    “That you’ll what? Break up with yon climbing management rock star? Fall into my bed? Into my life? Ha!” The loud clap of his harsh laugh made Lori wince. He stood, towering over her, put a hand to her cheek. But, his words stayed hard. “You wanted me, remember. You said so not fifteen minutes ago. I obliged you. Now, I’m out of your system. I don’t give a fuck who you sleep with Lori, but I’ll be damned if that suited tool sells this company out from under you.” He gave her lips a quick swipe with his then pushed her away. “Go back to your organized suburban future. Forget the brewing institute. Forget me. Forget this,” he put the fingers he’d had inside her back to his mouth. She shuddered, trying to decide what was worse: still wanting him so badly her head pounded or being so furious at him she wanted to bash in his face.
    “But, you should ask yourself: What does Mr. Hunter want from you, hmm? Are you a woman or a meal ticket?”
    Closing the two feet between them she slapped him, then again, the satisfying feel of his jaw against her palm making her smile. He caught her wrist on the third upswing. “Enough.”
    She turned and walked out, face stinging with unshed tears, body clamoring for more from the man she’d just left behind, brain spinning with the concept that Garrett was indeed looking to profit somehow, and that all he’d done for her, for the company was only for himself.

Chapter Eight

     
    Garrett stared at the phone, incredulous. Then let pure white fury take over. “Fuck!” He threw the stupid device across the room. It made a wholly unsatisfying bounce on the couch and hit the floor without a scratch. He glared at it, surprised at himself and wondering if the extreme emotion that Lori had brought into his life was a good or a bad thing.
    His assistant was at the door in a flash. “What happened?” She took in his bright red face and frowned. “Vernon giving you fits in the warehouse again, hon?” She picked up the phone and put it back on his tidy desk. He glared at it.
    “No. I wish it were that simple.” Her eyes widened. “Never mind. Do you want tickets to the Detroit Symphony tonight Mrs. Anderson? I seem to have a spare pair on me.” He turned away from her realizing he was being petulant but unable to care at the moment. Jesus. Every time he felt he had a breakthrough with Lori she blindsided him with some kind of new personality wrinkle.
    Her breezy excuse sailed through his brain again. “Sorry. I have to work this weekend.” She’d kept her voice light but he heard the tension in it.
    “Work.” He’d repeated like an idiot. “We have plans.” As if that mattered.
    “Yeah, well, here’s your chance to be more flexible, Garrett. I can’t be with you this weekend. Eli needs me to run the third shift tonight and be around tomorrow for…”
    “All right, I get it. Fine.” And he’d hung up.
    Mrs. Anderson cleared her throat once, then again.
    “What?” He winced at the sound of his harsh voice.
    “I will take those tickets, thanks, but in the meantime I need to tell you a little story.”
    “I don’t have time for—”
    “You will for this one.”
    He turned and glared at her, but she sat and arranged herself for a long chat.
    “Lorelei Brockton was the biggest tomboy, the toughest teenager, the most amazing, smart, beautiful girl.” She stopped, as if to gather her thoughts. “Her mother died when she was twelve. Cancer took her in something like six months. It was awful. Her father was…is a tough man, and he took over her teenaged years that way, on his own. They fought, good Lord did they fight. But he loved her and thought he was doing the right thing, making her defend herself about everything from her hair color which turned pink one year to her college classes.”
    Garrett