He swallowed and, like a coward, wished Cooper were here. Cooper would have these answers. That had been his part of the plan. “All of my products contain vitamins and minerals that have beenscientificallyproven to do those things.” It was half an answer—the true half—but even he could hear the way his voice wavered.
“And if someone drank one of your juices before going for a late-night drive? Or if a mother gave her sick child one instead of taking them to the doctor?”
“I would never suggest anything I sell could be a substitute for proper medical care.” He couldn’t stop himself from running a shaky hand over his hair. He was angry now. To suggest he wasn’t playing by their rules was one thing. To say he was negligent was a completely different matter.
But then again, hadn’t Avery thought what Oliver sold could substitute for one of his energy drinks? What if someone else did the same, but then tried to do something more dangerous than a night of video games?
This was his fault. He’d gone off-script, off-plan. He’d rushed into signing up for the market when he knew better than to rush into anything. After making a whole career by being the most prepared person in the room, Oliver had improvised, and now he was on his heels.
“Mr. Stevenson.” Richard shuffled his papers. “We received a number of applications from new vendors this year. Spaces rarely become available at our market, and we liked what you had to offer. We are always looking to support innovative entrepreneurs in Seacroft.”
But only if they fall in line and scratch your back and your buddy’s.These self-important bastards were going to try to take away his business. They had no idea how much Oliver had given up to be here.
How long had Marsha and—dammit, he still couldn’t remember her husband’s name—waited until they’d lodged their complaint with these people?
Richard gave him a smug smile, the same one Cooper gave him while carrying the last of his things to the SUV, as his apologies turned to anger. The same one practically daring Oliver to drive away into an uncertain future just to prove he could.
“We’re willing to give you a grace period. I understand it can be difficult to make connections when you’re new to the community.” He paused and leaned toward Barry. They whispered theatrically. Oliver was still waiting for the legal pad with their best offer to appear.
Barry straightened in his seat. “You have a month to either find a new local supplier for your products, or to find additional products you can sell that would allow you to work with Seacroft farmers. We’ll review this at our next meeting and make a decision then.”
Oliver could practically hear the invisible gavel bang off the table, along with another nail in his coffin. “I’ll keep you posted on my progress.”
He’d told Cooper he’d succeed without him, and now he’d do it in spite of the people in front of him too.
12
“Fuck ’em,” Seb said as he took another drink.
Oliver chuckled and lifted his glass. “I can’t. I’m in a relationship.”
“With who?”
Oliver waved him off. “With no one.” What he and Nick had was an agreement, not a relationship. They didn’t do relationship things. For example, when Oliver stalked out of the market meeting on what felt like wooden legs, he’d texted his brother, not Nick, that it was time to get roaringly drunk. You didn’t get roaringly drunk with your fuck buddies.
Well, you did. Sometimes. He and Cooper had started that way. Or, actually, they’d started the other way. They’d been well on their way to completely wasted, celebrating a big win—or was it a big loss?—the first time Cooper kissed him. And the second, and the third. It took a year of drunken hookups before they finally admitted they didn’t need the alcohol to be together.
“Fuck Cooper.” Oliver needed two tries to get the glass to his lips.
“I’m not sure what brought that on, but I’ll drink to it.” Seb saluted him.
“He was an ass.”
“But hehada great ass. I can say that now.”
Oliver snorted. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.” Cooper had been so vain about his ass. All the waxing and bleaching. The endless squats and workouts. He and Seb had never liked each other, but he’d be pleased to hear Seb still recognized a work of art when he saw one.
“So are you going to tell me what happened between you two now?” Seb chewed on an olive and squinted at him.
Oliver shook his head. He’d lost track of how much he’d had to drink after the fourth dirty martini, but he was still with it enough to know he wasn’t going to talk about that.
“Come on,” Seb said, signalling a server for another round. “The longer you hold out, the more I come up with better and better things in my head. Did he climb back in the closet? Is he living some morally gray double life with his stepbrother?”
“That’s disgusting. Don’t be a pervert.”
Seb rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder and smiled a big toothy smile. “But I’m your pervert.”
Oliver sighed, letting the alcohol do its thing. “I’m not supposed to be drinking.”
