Trouble on Tap (19 page)

“Yesterday,” Natalie said. “He smelled like he’d bathed in a vat of whiskey and looked like he’d been hit by one of the Sweet Salvation Brewery delivery trucks.”

“Good.” That made her feel better. Misery loved company, even if it was the person who’d ripped out her still-beating heart and put it in a blender.

“You didn’t skip town because of Larry,” Miranda said.

As always, big sister cut through the bullshit and got right to the heart of it. “No.”

“Did something happen with Matteo?” Natalie asked. “We have plenty of eggs in the house and we’ll go with you to redecorate his house if you just come home.”

Picturing her sister in her signature pastel-colored sweater and with her hair up in a bun, lobbing eggs at Mateo’s house, made her lips curl upward for the first time in days. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think egging the police chief’s house is the best plan—even for a Sweet.”

“Come home anyway,” Miranda said. “We need you back here where you belong.”

It’s all she’d ever wanted—to belong. She’d grown up in a town where no one ever wanted her and she’d fought back with crazy Sweet attitude. She’d gone into modeling even though people said her curves made her an oddball out, but she’d proved them wrong, landing magazine cover after magazine cover. She’d always had her sisters, but she was the wild child triplet who stuck out.

The only place she’d ever been where she hadn’t had to fight to belong was in Mateo’s arms. That should have been a huge warning sign that she shouldn’t be there. As a Sweet, she knew she had to fight for everything. Anything that came too easy, felt too perfect, was bound to be bad. He’d pushed her away at the hotel. He’d ignored her messages while he was in the VA hospital. He’d told her point blank on his porch to get out of his life.

How many more times did he have to break her heart before she learned that the belonging she felt in his arms was an illusion?

Not another single one.

A hard anger chipped away at the numbness that had settled over her, bringing with it hurt and embarrassment and bitterness.

“I messed up.” Again. What was new about her impulsiveness leading to trouble? “When you said you were pregnant, Miranda, I realized the next generation of Sweets couldn’t grow up in a town that hated them. But if we could have successfully hosted a fundraiser for the veterans’ center, that would have shown the town that the Sweets could bring something good to Salvation. That’s why I was so determined to make it a success.”

“None of that sounds like a mistake. It sounds amazing,” Miranda said.

“It was. Right up until the point when I sold you all out for Mateo.” What an idiot she’d been, believing in him—in
them
. “After Mateo got arrested for beating up Larry, the mayor told me he’d make sure the charges didn’t stick and that Mateo wouldn’t lose his badge. All I had to do was drop my plans for the fundraiser. I didn’t know that The Kitchen Sink had surveillance cameras that had captured the whole thing and shown that Larry took the first swing. I thought giving up that chance to bridge the divide between Salvation and the Sweets was the only way to save Mateo.”

Family. It’s all she’d ever really had and she’d sold it out for a dream that wasn’t ever going to be a reality. The realization ripped through her like claws through butter.

“Like an idiot, I loved him. I sold out my family for a man who had never loved me and never would.”

“You didn’t sell us out,” Miranda sniffled. “You made the right choice, and one all of us support.”

“Fuck him,” Natalie said. “Fuck them both.”

The shock of Natalie’s words slapped Olivia out of her personal pity party. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Natalie said, her words flowing with NASCAR speed. “Your idea for the fundraiser is a great one. We’re not going to let Tyrell Hawson blackmail us into not doing it. If he wants to shut down one of us Sweets, he’ll have to shut down
all
of us, and good luck to him if the fool tries that.” She sucked in a quick breath. “As for Mateo, if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are, then he is the dumbest asshole on the face of the earth and we don’t have time for that kind of foolishness. It’s just not efficient.”

The sound of Natalie flipping through papers on her ever-present clipboard came over the phone line. “Okay, the fundraiser is scheduled for Saturday, so we have two days to finalize all the details and get everything in place. You’ve already put together a plan of attack, I’m a whiz at organizing everything to get it in place, and I feel sorry for anyone who gets in Miranda’s way when she’s negotiating with the other breweries so they get their kegs here on time for the competitive beer tasting.” She smacked the clipboard down on something hard. “Everyone in Salvation is about to learn that when you take on one of the Sweets, you take on us all. Hurry up and get your ass in the car and come home, Olivia, we have a fundraiser to put on.”

The phone went dead. All she could do was stare at it as she tried to process what in the hell had just happened.

“Mrow,” the cat called from her perch on the windowsill.

“Exactly.” She got up and tossed the bland pecan pie into the trashcan, a lightness to her steps that hadn’t been there for days.

Her heart was battered, her self-confidence shaken and she had no idea if they could pull off the fundraiser, but it didn’t matter. She was going home to Salvation. It was where she belonged.

Shirtsleeves still damp from the dog splashing water on him during his bath this morning, Mateo walked into the Salvation County Courthouse. It was quiet on a Saturday morning, with most everyone off duty. The dog’s freshly trimmed nails click-clacked on the marble floor as they crossed the lobby to the mayor’s office.

Peeking into the other county and city offices as he passed, he spotted Sweet Salvation Brewery growlers on countertops, along with placards explaining that the change collected would go toward building a new veterans’ center. He’d dropped them off yesterday morning and they were already more than halfway full.

All anyone had been talking about for the past few days was the veterans’ center fundraiser. Olivia had called in God knew how many favors and people were flying in from all over to help raise money. Every woman he knew had bought a handful of raffle tickets to win a makeover by some famous stylist who had his own TV show. Salvation had been talking about the Sweets for generations and Olivia had figured out how to use it as an advantage. No doubt about it, there was a helluva lot more to the woman than just her looks.

Not that he’d seen her since she came back from wherever she’d been holed up. He had to get his troops positioned correctly first. No Marine went into battle without a plan. And now it was time to pull out the big guns.

He pushed open the mayor’s office door.

Hawson sat behind his desk with a scowl on his face. “What do you want?”

So they were bypassing the pleasantries. This was Mateo’s kind of conversation. “You’re going to the veterans’ center fundraiser at the Sweet Salvation Brewery today.”

“I most certainly am not.”

Oh he was; he just didn’t know it yet. Having the mayor show up would prove to Salvation’s last anti-Sweet holdouts that the family couldn’t be vilified anymore. It’s what Olivia wanted and what he was determined to deliver.

Mateo stepped around the desk and Hawson flinched. The fear in the other man’s eyes was well founded, but that wasn’t the kind of damage he planned on inflicting if the mayor didn’t follow orders like a good Marine.

“I’m telling you right now, you’re going to go.” Mateo kept his tone light, but there was no way the other man could miss the underlying threat. “Not only that, but you are going to act like there is nowhere you’d rather be than at that fundraiser.”

“Why would I do that?” he sputtered.

Now to hit the power-hungry mayor exactly where it hurt. “Because there’s an election coming up—and if you don’t act like the Sweets are one of the most important families in Salvation,
I’ll
run for mayor.”

Hawson blanched.

“You’ve pissed off a lot of people over the years, but have always managed to keep anyone from running against you.” Mateo sat down on Hawson’s desk, scattering papers and knocking over a cup full of pens. “How do you like your odds against a Marine injured in the line of duty who rescues dogs from kill shelters and beats up blackmailers?”

“You’re not a people-person.” The other man’s voice went up an octave. “There’s absolutely no glad-handing politician in you. You’d hate everything about running for office and keeping it.”

“True.” It would be a living fucking hell. “But I’d still do it—and I’d win. We both know it.”

Hawson fidgeted with a pen and a red flush crept up his neck. “I don’t believe you.”

Mateo got up, sending a stack of papers sailing down to the floor. “That’s your prerogative, but you’ll find out the truth if you don’t show up for that fundraiser. It’s about to start and you don’t want to be late.”

Neither did he. The first bus to the brewery left from The Kitchen Sink’s parking lot in ten minutes. Without a second look at the mayor, he crossed the room to where the dog waited by the door.

“I see hanging out with Olivia Sweet has had quite the effect on you,” the mayor called out.

Mateo looked back. “You’re right. It has.”

Now to go convince Olivia of that.

Every table in front of the Sweet Salvation Brewery was packed with people. The five lines for the beer tasting were ten-people deep. Olivia had already emptied out the collection growlers at the tables twice. The live band had kept the dance floor grooving since its first set. Half in awe, she stood with her sisters and surveyed the crowd.

“Can you believe it?” she asked Miranda.

“Of course I can.” Her sister grinned. “No one can stop the wild Sweet once she sets her mind to something.”

The band stopped in the middle of a song and feedback sounded from the speakers, making everyone wince.

“Sorry about that, folks,” the mayor said.

Olivia’s stomach sank. There was no way this was going to go well, but short of tackling Tyrell Hawson and tearing the mic from his grasp, there wasn’t much she could do but weather this latest storm.

“I’d like to thank the Sweet Salvation Brewery and the Sweet family for hosting such an amazing event for such an important cause to our community,” he said. Then he raised a mug of beer. “I hope you’ll join me in raising a toast to Miranda, Natalie and Olivia Sweet for all they’re doing to make Salvation a better community.” Everyone clapped and the mayor took a healthy swig of beer. “Now don’t forget why we’re all here today. Be sure to enter the raffles and participate in the beer tasting. All of the proceeds will go to building a new veterans’ center.”

Everyone cheered.

“Do you think he’s drunk?” Miranda asked.

Dumbfounded, Olivia shook her head. “He didn’t slur.”

“Here comes another bus,” Natalie said as she handed Olivia a roll of raffle tickets. “Go get ’em.”

Still trying to work out the mayor’s change of heart, she made her way to the edge of the open-air beer garden to greet the newcomers. After handing out raffle tickets to what seemed like half the town, she realized the bus was still in the parking lot. The driver should have shut the doors and gone back for another group by now, but it remained parked with the doors open.

Figuring there was someone on board who needed assistance getting off, she began walking over, but Mateo’s dog appeared in the doorway.

He paused for a second, happily panting as he looked around. The moment he spotted Olivia, he turned into a multicolored fur flash as he sprinted down the steps and across the parking lot to her.

“What in the world are you doing here?” She knelt down to pet him, keeping her eye on the bus, figuring Luciana and her brood were about to debark, but no one did. Looking down at the dog, she noticed he had a brand new bright-yellow collar. A rolled-up piece of paper dangled from it.

Heart fluttering, she glanced up, looking for Mateo. He was the only who would send his dog with a note, but he wasn’t mingling in the crowd. Fingers shaking, she unhooked the note from the dog’s collar while dodging the happy guy’s licks as much as possible.

HI, MY NAME’S TROUBLE. MY PERSON IS AN IDIOT. CAN YOU HELP ME FIND HIM?

She bit her bottom lip to stop the quivering and buried her face in Trouble’s soft fur. Her heart was held together with weak glue and Scotch tape; another swift kick by Mateo’s boot and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to put it back together again.

Even though it was the last thing she should do, she looked up at the bus. The doors were still open. He had to be in there. Excitement, hope and a belief in happily ever afters pushed its way to the forefront. It lightened her footsteps as she walked toward the bus, the dog following behind.

But before she reached it, the driver closed the doors and the bus rolled forward on its return trip to Salvation.

One by one, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach dropped dead as the bus pulled away. It wasn’t until it was almost out of the lot that she could see who had been hiding behind it.