The Guy Next Door - By Lori Foster, S Donovan, V Dahl Page 0,87
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
CHAPTER ONE
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