CHAPTER THREE
NOAH
“Creep much, Noah,”I mumbled to myself, staring at the woman with cinnamon skin, smiling and twisting her boots in the snow.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She was breathtaking. Her smile was infectious, and I hated smiling. Well, this week anyway. My brothers insisted I take a vacation. They said if I didn’t take care of myself, I’d kill over like grandfather did. Late one night he was at his repair shop working on a customer’s classic car when his heart clunked out.
My grandfather Piero Benatti enjoyed his work and had no intention of retiring.
I planned to take it easy someday. My brothers said the time was now. They promised to run the company to my strict standards. I was the only one out of my brothers to attend community college. I spent my spare time brewing and testing batches of beer. In order to purchase supplies, I had to work. From skiing and snowboarding lessons to home renovations; those jobs paid for my obsession.
An obsession I inherited from my father. He loved beer. To be fair, he loved to drink alcohol. He had great ideas but could never fund them. And never followed through on brewing a beer to perfection.
A brew that would stand out amongst the competition. My goal was to create a beer that offered a smooth, rich taste. The brew would be so smooth a person couldn’t just have one beer. That was my motto. Canyon Brewing Company was born when I was twenty-five years old. It took five years before we earned a billion in revenue. We recently became the second popular beer company in the U.S. to Budweiser. The third company was Barker Brewery. Lewis Barker and I didn’t see eye to eye. We hated each other. Not sure why, but he made it his mission to always take a stab at my humble beginnings when we met at beer conventions. He told anyone who’d listen how I came from nothing. He was the only person who cared. Most found my story motivating. How I once scraped to get by, and now I ran a billion-dollar company.
My brothers were invested in the beer idea too. They contributed their time and talents in different ways. I may have been the brewer, but they shopped our product to local stores, then nationally. The second we found success, I allowed only phone interviews. I’ve tried to keep our identities a secret. A few years back, my brothers and I built a compound for our family. Our homes sprawled over acres of land. It was our own private oasis. Brought a sense of peace.
My brother Zachary was the oldest. I was two years younger than him. He was my right-hand man. He barely graduated Ohio State with a business degree. Not because he wasn’t intelligent. But because of the women and partying. He risked losing his partial football scholarship. I told him if he wanted to one day help run the company; he had to get his shit together.
My brother Nolan was thirty-two and a wild card. Loved living dangerously. Nolan took things too far sometimes, like snowboarding off the roof of our parents’ house. Yeah, he’d done that several times. Most recently last winter.
Alexander, who we called Alex, was twenty-seven. Permanent bachelor. Doubt a woman could hold his attention long enough before he was on to the next. He enjoyed fucking women in twos. Like I said, permanent bachelor.
Anyway, my dad Neil left his imprint on each of his sons. We weren’t the easiest men to get along with. We were always kind of cranky.
I guess all those times he said we wouldn’t amount to shit seeped through our skin. Not sure what my mom Carlotta ever saw in the man.
Dad had the bright idea to call mom’s uncle Vino and ask for a loan. He was her mother, Aida’s brother. His nick name was Big Vino. He was also the mob boss of the Romano family in New Jersey. His son Vincent would later run the family business.
Great uncle Vino called my grandmother. Told her Neil called asking for a loan.
Nana called and ripped dad a new asshole. “If you ever call and ask my brother for money again, I’ll have him personally come and break your legs,” she roared.
She shouted so loud through the receiver my brothers and I heard her clearly from our eavesdropping location outside the kitchen.
Zach, Nolan, and I laughed under our breath. Deep down, we were relieved he didn’t get the loan. My dad was a fucking disgrace. Needless to say, he never crossed the line again.
Over the years, our cousins Vincent Jr. and Vincenzo visited. Their parents rented the biggest cabin in Aspen.
Mom wouldn’t allow us to spend the night. But we could play together on the slopes. We still got into our fair share of trouble. Like terrorizing rich bullies. One time I scared a kid shitless in front of his girlfriend during a snowboarding lesson. He deserved it. He was an asshole.
Back to the lovely vacation I’m on. Zach suggested I hire a contractor to perform the cabin renovations. That wasn’t necessary. I’d carryout the repairs myself. Just because I was rich didn’t mean I had to abandon all the skills that helped me garner success in my life.
So there I was, watching Ms. Christmas enjoy the town my family fell in love with years ago.
As far as I was concerned, this holiday could fall off the planet. Didn’t stop my feet from trailing behind the cinnamon delight at a distance. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Hope’s obsession with Christmas was a whole new level of crazy. I wasn’t sure how our conversation would fair since I hated this dreadful holiday. We argued like an old married couple. Mainly about my obsession with work. Hope thought she knew how my life was laid out. I turned her to face me. That gaudy Christmas sweater was in view. Didn’t stop my cock from stirring in my slacks. If I could just fuck the Christmas joy out of her.
When I drove up the mountain a few hours ago, I didn’t expect to see Hope. What made this godforsaken trip better was learning we were neighbors. It was only genius I offered to repair her home so I could see her beautiful face every fucking day. Shit, I was on vacation. Why not have a little fun with the sexy woman. Fun went out the window when she appeared on my doorstep dressed in a Ms. Clause robe and fucking elf slippers. Now I was loading two shot guns. One with blanks. The other with bullets. I only wanted to scare the wolf. Dressed in warm winter gear, my boots pounded the floor as I strolled toward the front door.
Her wide, dark oval eyes followed me. “You have two rifles?”
“And then some.”
“I’ll help. Give me a rifle.”
“You can fire a shotgun?”