“Who are you kidding?” Reenie said. “You’re very particular about stuff.”
“My logo, sure. But not wedding things. I don’t care about the color or font of those labels, as long as my logo is on them.”
“That goes without saying,” she said. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait.”
Clay rolled his eyes and let out a breath. “Just keep me posted on it.”
“Can I ask—who do I work for?”
Brooke was looking at Clay with her eyebrow lifted.
“Me,” Clay said.
“Don’t sound so put out,” Meredith said. “I promise not to bug you too much, but there are going to be things I have to ask you. I’m just confused since the paperwork I signed said Ridgeway Orchards and Gale told me Ridgeway Hard Cider was something different.”
“Clay is the one who did all the work in the barn for events. It’s not what he had planned, but it falls under him, though the revenue will come to the family orchard,” Brooke said. “It’s all on paper, but Clay will be your boss.”
Awww. How thoughtful! He was a big tough guy, but he was putting it all in the family name so they were taken care of.
“You’re not so hard,” she said sweetly.
The room erupted in laughter at her statement. Clay stared her down. “Don’t bet on it.”
She was more turned on than afraid, but that would be her little secret.
8
TALK ABOUT EMBARRASSING
“Did you back your car into something?” Clay asked her the following Saturday.
She arrived at the barn’s parking lot thirty minutes early for her meeting with new clients.
It was the first time she was going to sell the wedding venue and their plan offerings.
The past week she’d worked her butt off putting together a menu of themes and costs, what could be offered and then working out the prices with Brooke. That was to just get it started.
She’d have to meet more with Clay today on the costs for the bar and bottles he was going to produce.
“I didn’t,” she said. “Someone did that to my car.”
When she came out of school on Wednesday and noticed the large scratch from the passenger door to the bumper then what looked like a foot kicking a dent into her car, she’d been livid.
She had no clue when or where it happened, just that she noticed it that day.
Fredrick swore it wasn’t him, but he’d be stupid to admit to it too.
“You’re joking,” Clay said, squatting down and looking it over. “It’s like a knife scratch.”
“I thought it was a key.”
“No,” he said. “That’s the tip of a knife. A key would be thicker.”
“But there are two of them,” she argued, bending down next to him. She inhaled the scent of him before she could stop herself.
He caught her doing it and stood up.
Talk about embarrassing.
