Meeting. 30 minutes. No excuses.
CALEB
Are we in trouble, Daddy
EVERETT
Call me “Daddy” again and I’ll make sure there’s no biological way for you to become one.
“Everett! Just the man I was looking for.”
Tara Greene materializes like she was directly summoned by my foul mood. She’s dressed in cream again—a color she seems to think makes her look innocent.
It doesn’t.
Her practiced smile makes my survival instincts stand at attention.
“Tara.” I lift my coffee cup in greeting. “You're up early.”
“Early bird gets the story.” She settles onto the barstool across from me like she’s done it a hundred times before. Her crew hovers at a respectful distance, but I clock the camera guy adjusting his angle. Always filming. Always hunting. “Yesterday was quite the pivot. Very... bold.”
“We like to keep things interesting.”
“The internet certainly responded.” She pulls outher phone, scrolling with a manicured nail. “#MountainDaddyTour is still trending. That's impressive engagement for a regional festival.”
“Glad the algorithm approves.”
Her eyes flick up from the screen, sharp and assessing. “How does Sierra feel about all this new exposure?”
And there’s the clean jab to the ribs. Casual. Calculated.
I take a slow sip of coffee, buying myself a beat. “Sierra's a professional. She understands that marketing requires flexibility.”
“Her heritage walk was so...” Tara tilts her head, savoring the word like expensive wine. “Thorough. All that research. All that preparation. And now—” She gestures vaguely toward the window, where a crew member is positioning a #MountainDaddyTour banner. “This.”
“Sometimes you have to meet people where they are.”
Rules of bartending. Rules of bartending. Rules of bartending.
“Mmm.” She makes a note on her phone. Probably cataloging my tells. Filing them away for later. “And where is Sierra this morning? I'd love to get her reaction on camera.”
Poke at what’s mine and I poke you a thousand times harder. Try me.
“She'll be documenting the festival activities. Wholesome content. Families, kids—the stuff that doesn't require a hashtag warning.”
Tara'ssmile sharpens at the edges. “You two seem very... aligned. You know, in your vision for this place.”
“We're both invested in the lodge's success.”
“Invested.” She repeats the word with precision.
“Interesting choice of words. I was under the impression the brothers were the partners and Sierra is just here for historical integrity.”
Before I can respond, her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, and something shifts in her expression—predatory interest giving way to calculation.
My coffee turns to acid in my gut.
“Excuse me.” She slides off the barstool. “Duty calls. But Everett—” She pauses, turning back with that too-bright smile. “I'd love to sit down with you later. Get the real story of the fifth-generation lodge owner. What drives you. What keeps you up at night.”
