Brewing Up Some Love Read online

  BREWING UP SOME LOVE

  JENNIFER CONNER

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  ****

  Brewing up Some Love

  Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Conner

  Books to Go Now

  For information on the cover illustration and design, contact [email protected]

  First eBook Edition –June 2012

  Printed in the United States of America

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please stop by

  www.bookstogonow.com

  The Wounded Nobleman Book 3

  Book 1:The Duke and the Lost Night

  Book 2:The Reluctant Heir

  Please look for Jennifer’s other short stories

  The Mobile Mistletoe Series Love Comes for Saint Patrick’s Day & Love Comes for Valentine’s Day

  Valentine Surprise

  Cupcakes and Cupids

  Do You Hear What I Hear?

  New Year Resolution

  Christmas with Carol

  Auld Lang Sigh

  Rush of Love

  Fields of Gold

  Christmas Chaos

  The Christmas Horse

  The Music of Christmas

  All I Want for Christmas is You

  Weddings First Chance

  and novel Kilt by Love

  Chapter 1

  Regan watched the heavy mist slide down the glass as he pulled up a stool and took a seat by the window. Through the rain, the turn-of-the-century street clock read it was seven-fifty-three. At any moment, the beautiful brunette he came here to see every morning would stride through the door of the Mud Puddle and order a Chai tea, with soy milk, and two packets of raw sugar. Pathetic. He knew her order by heart.

  The hiss of steam in the milk pitchers and the rich smell of roasted coffee beans lulled him deeper into thought. He wasn’t sure why she intrigued him. She was beautiful, but it was more about the way she greeted the coffee baristas that showed she held an internal kindness.

  Before the baristas had a chance to say anything, she would call them each by their first name and ask them how their morning was. Regan was sure it was a nice change of pace from the normal grouchy morning customers they dealt with. Regan wished he’d never told his older brother, Ben, about the lovely woman he watched every morning. Now he would never hear the end of it. Ben was a ladies’ man and couldn’t understand why Regan was so set on meeting ‘this one girl’. Ben offered time and again to fix him up on a double-date, but Regan didn’t find the kind of girls his brother dated attractive. He might find them attractive, but if the women couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation, it was a deal breaker.

  When the light turned, he spotted the woman he was waiting for cross the street. Regan slowly rose, hoping to time his planned meeting so it looked casual. He dropped his half-full cup of coffee in the trash bin. It was a pity to waste good java. He waited until she entered the shop and then moved over to end up next in line behind her.

  Regan had to face facts. He would never meet this woman or anyone else unless he got over his shyness. He and Ben owned a local beer brewery. When he was with his outgoing brother, he could talk about the brewery businesses with clients from all over the Northwest. But when it came to the dating field, he would not let his brother be his wingman. Ben would probably sweep the girl from under his wing, and off they’d go. No. This was something Regan needed to do on his own. His choice. His actions.

  Talking to women, cold turkey, was not his long suit. He’d been told he was good looking, but this woman was … well, gorgeous. She wore little makeup, but didn’t need any. Her dark hair accented her deep brown eyes. Regan’s gaze traveled over her. Her flirty brown skirt swung on a pair of knockout legs.

  On past mornings, before any words came out of his mouth, Regan had already talked himself out of going up to her. But not today. This morning would be the day. He’d checked her hand and no ring, hopefully she wasn’t in a relationship. If the date gods were shining on him, this was his time.

  The smell of her freshly washed hair wafted to his nostrils. She smelled like rain and lavender. Standing there, he tried to think of something clever to say. Why had a hundred things come to him back in the shower, but now that he was here, a foot away from her, his brain went to oatmeal.

  Earlier, Regan made base rules for himself so he wouldn’t stumble up when he approached her. The rules were:

  1.Be honest. 2. Don’t sound or be like a stalker. 3. Don’t make a fool out of yourself.

  He stepped beside her, cleared his throat and asked, “How are you this morning?”

  She looked up and smiled. His gaze honed in on the fine bones and her full pink lips. His heart did a little flip.

  “Fine. How are you?”

  “I’m great,” Regan said. “Really great. Hey I was wonder if you—“

  A cell phone rang in her purse. The ringtone was Bohemian Rhapsody and right at the mama mia part. She smiled apologetically and reached in to grab it, then answered. After listening for a second, she responded, “Yes. I’m getting coffee. I’ll be there in two minutes. Yes, I’m excited to actually be working with donors.” She tucked the phone under her chin, handed the barista cash, and took her drink. “You can check if you want, but Barry said he’d be there by ten, and then we will have a full staff.” She turned and headed to the door.

  Sometimes you had to hate technology.

  He watched her move out the door as he grabbed his second cup of coffee and dropped the change in the tip jar. What if he never got his nerve up to talk to her again? It had to be now or never. He hurried after her out on to the street.

  So much for rule two.

  But it was only in the stalker category if you sat out in your car for hours and lurked. If you were just curious where she worked, followed her a few blocks, and then were on your way, there had to be a sub-category for that.

  Stalker-ish? Stalker-lite?

  Regan internally rolled his eyes and followed her about a half a block back until they came to a large grey nondescript building. He dropped his head and looked down at the sidewalk as he trailed behind. Still talking on the phone, the woman threw open the front door and moved inside.

  Like a moth to a flame, he followed.

  Finishing her conversation, she dropped the cell phone back in her purse, shimmied out of her coat, and hung it on a hook.

  Now he knew where she worked. When he got to the brewery, he would spend the morning formulating another plan to try to meet her. Regan started to edge backwards towards the door when his movement must have caught her eye. She spun towards him.

  “Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there. You’re the guy from the coffee shop. Great. You must have seen my sign.”

  Sign? If she was into astrology, he could play along. “I’m a Taurus.”

  She gave him an odd look and smiled. “You drive a Taurus? That’s nice. Right now, my car’s in the shop. It’s always breaking down. Take a seat and let me gather my supplies and I will be right with you. We just opened, and you’re my first
donor—literally. I hoped the signs I put up at the coffee shop would bring in more people..”

  He obliged and sat in the chair, crossed his legs and waited.

  In a minute, she came back into the room with a blue plastic box and placed it on the metal desk “We don’t have many people come in on their way to work.” She scooted over to a laptop and booted up the screen. “Have you ever given blood before?”

  “Blood?... Have I… No.”

  Oh no. What had he done? Regan looked around the room and then at the gurneys. A Red Cross was plastered on all the posters and literature. How had he missed it?

  “My name’s, Shia. And you’re?”

  Now he knew her name, but at what a price. “Regan. Regan Goddard.”

  “I’m not a very fast typist, please be patient with me. Hunt and peck.” She concentrated on the computer keyboard. “Can I see your ID? After I enter that in the system, I’ll take your vitals while your registration processes. Giving blood is one of the most important things a person can do.”

  He’d gotten up the nerve to follow and then talk to her, but where was his nerve regarding rule #1. Be Truthful. He had to tell her that since he was ten, he couldn’t stand the sight of blood. But how could he tell a beautiful woman he had a major crush on that he was a big wuss? She’d never date a spineless blob who couldn’t even give a quart of plasma.

  He’d wait. Let her take his vitals and then tell her he had to leave. Think of an excuse. He told himself. I forgot to put money in the parking meter. My dog’s sick. I have to pick up a wheelchair for my grandmother—who’s leaving the hospital— and then pick up my sick dog.

  Damn rule #1.

  “I am so happy that you’re here. This is the first time I’ve drawn blood without supervision. No pressure, right?” she said brightly.

  He intended to tell her he couldn’t save anyone, not with blood, especially not with his blood, but he only gave her a weak nod.

  When she pressed the stethoscope to listen to his heart, she said, “You smell good. What cologne are you wearing?”

  He couldn’t remember. His mind was a blank slate.

  When he didn’t answer, she continued, “It’s nice. And you have a good strong heartbeat. Everything checks out.” Her fingers were warm and soft as they pressed against his wrist to take his pulse. She wrote down the information.

  Shia took rubber tubing from the plastic box and tied it around his arm. She tapped his veins with two fingers, pulled out the needle, and then attached more tubing.

  “Here we go,” she said.

  Regan felt the prick, and the blood began to flow. Maybe if he moved now he wouldn’t…

  He fought to get up.

  “No! Don’t!” Shia cried in protest.

  He looked down at the dark red spilling from his arm, and he was ten again.

  And his brother was lying in a pool of blood.

  Regan knew he shouldn’t have made any of his rules, starting with rule #3. Don’t make a fool of yourself in front of… Shia.

  The room spun and he heard her yell, “Somebody help me! I’ve got a fainter.”

  Then the room rushed past him and everything was black.

  Chapter 2

  Shia wrung her hands and looked nervously at the man in the bed. Why did she always have this kind of luck? She’d worked herself through trade school and now was a certified phlebotomist. She spent the last two months doing office work at the Red Cross and this was going to be her first day working with donors.

  And she’d gotten a fainter.

  If she couldn’t get though her fist day at the Red Cross, how was she ever going to be a full time nurse?

  Not only had the man fainted, when he went down, he split open the top of his head and was now in the ER.

  It wasn’t really her place to follow him and the medics to the hospital, but her boss said to take care of him until someone from his family arrived. With the economy the way it was and cash donations down, a lawsuit wasn’t what they needed. She and her co-worker tried people with the same last name in his cell phone, but there were no answers. So here she was.

  Feeling guilty.

  He moved his legs, opened one eye, and groaned.

  Shia rose to her feet and put a hand on his arm. “Mr. Goddard? You’ll be fine. You’re in the hospital.”

  “What happened?” he asked touching the large white bandage on his head.

  “You were at the Red Cross donating blood and you fainted. Unfortunately, you hit your head and now you have a few stitches.”

  “Did I hurt anyone when I fell?”

  “You were the one injured. Mr. Goddard, I am so sorry.”

  “Regan. Please, call me Regan.” He shifted on the hospital bed and raised the edge of the sheets to peek beneath.

  “You still have on your jeans and not a drafty hospital gown. We’re not on that personal of a level yet.” Shia smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you know that you’d have that kind of reaction when I drew your blood?”

  He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I was afraid I might.”

  “I’m going into nursing school, but this was my first day working for Red Cross as a phlebotomist. I hadn’t planned on my initial donor cracking his head open.”

  “I told myself to be honest back with you back at your blood bank and I wasn’t.” When his gaze met hers, she noticed his eyes were such a light shade of blue, they held a silver tint to them. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve had this problem with blood since I was ten and my older brother fell out of a tree and compound fractured his arm.” His voice dropped. “There was a lot of blood. We were the only ones playing in the woods that day and there was no one I could call for help. When he passed out, I thought he was dead.”

  “That must have been terribly traumatic for you.”

  “It’s not about the blood as much as the memories. When I see blood, I have this huge rush of anxiety and I remember how helpless I felt when I left to get help.” He pushed himself up on the pillows. “Geesh… why am I telling you this? I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to hear.”

  “I like that you’re telling me. What did you end up doing with your brother?”

  “I took off my shirt and wound it around his arm until the bleeding slowed. He was quite a bit bigger than I was, he still is, I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry him. I left him propped against a tree.”

  “I take it everything turned out fine?”

  “Yeah. He had to have corrective surgery, but it healed. I’m really sorry I messed up your morning, and your first blood draw.” He glanced at his hands.

  “People have all kinds of issues with drawing blood, I could have been prepared. But if you knew you hated having blood drawn, why did you come in?”

  He paused for a minute and color rose on his cheeks. He was blushing. How cute was that?

  “There must be a good story behind this,” She added.

  “If I have to be truthful, then I guess I had better confess it all.” He was obviously having an internal struggle with telling her what he was thinking. “I watch you come into the Mud Puddle every morning and I’ve tried to get up the nerve to talk to you… maybe even ask you out for a date. I think you’re really beautiful.”

  She couldn’t help but touch her sloppy ponytail and tried to remember if she put makeup on that morning. She’d been so busy with school, it had been a long time since she took time with her personal appearance. It was nice to hear a man say the words. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  His deep blue eyes widened. “You are kidding… right?”

  She mocked a slap to her forehead. “And you tried this morning, and then my phone rang. You thought if you caught up to me, you might get to finish our conversation, but you followed me into the blood bank, and then you were stuck.”

  “I know, how stupid can I be with my blood issue.”

  “I distracted you that much?”

  “I guess you did, because I wasn’t paying attention to where I
was walking. I was worrying if I did talk to you, you might think I’m not in your league.”

  “And why would you think that? You’re pretty cute yourself. No, backup—handsome. Never call a guy cute. Puppies are cute.”

  “Thanks for not comparing me to a puppy. You’re right, not good for the ego.”

  Regan had a strong jaw and lips that begged to be kissed. His brown hair tumbled over his forehead that accentuated the blue of his eyes.

  “I’ve always been shy,” he dropped his voice low. “And it makes it even more difficult to talk to women when you have a brother who’s…”

  The curtain in the ER cubical scraped open on its metal rings as a man strode in. “Little Bro? What happened? I was just waking up and didn’t hear my cell phone.” He paused and looked at Shia. “Hey, and who might you be? Are you his nurse?”

  “No. I’m not a nurse-yet.”

  “She’s a phlebotomist,” Regan clarified.

  “A what?” A slow extended grin spread across Ben’s face. “I don’t know what that is but I’m thinking I need to find out. Because whatever it is that you do, I think I need it done to me.”

  “Shia, this is my big brother, Ben.”

  Ben took Shia’s hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.

  She snatched her hand back and shoved it in her pants pockets. She pinned her gaze on Regan and knew the look on her face said, who is this guy?

  There was a tic in Regan’s jaw muscle. This cute, shy guy had his buttons to push. He likes me. She never went for the jealous boyfriend type, but it was nice to have Regan be just a little jealous of his brother kissing her hand and making a pass at her.

  Ben picked up the hospital chart on the end of the bed and read the data. “The nurse at the front desk said that as soon as the doctor came in, you could be released. But she was very insistent you aren’t to drive for at least 24 hours. I guess I will be your escort. Since you took such good care you my little brother, can I offer you a ride home?”