“What the fuck?” I say to him, taking the broom from his outstretched hand. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“Uh, because it’s true.”
“It is not.” I cast a quick glance at the bar, making sure nobody can hear him. The only person sitting nearby is Uli from the diner, but he looks so invested in his phone that I’m not too worried about him. “Now shut the fuck up before I fire you.”
“We’re fifty-fifty partners. You couldn’t fire me even if you wanted to, which you don’t. You just don’t like that I’m right.”
“Shut up.”
It’s a juvenile comeback, but it’s all that I have.
He is right. It’s exactly what I want to do to Odette, and I fucking hate myself for it.
I sweep up the glass, dump it into a bag, then thrust it at my business partner. “Take this shit out.”
He laughs, shaking his head at me. “Someone’s in trouble. CapitalTand everything.”
“Ezra . . .” I growl.
He doesn’t look the least bit threatened, laughing the whole way out of the taproom.
I go back to polishing my already-clean glasses, anything to act natural and not think about what he said. I replay that exact scenario over and over again in my head.
What would Odette say if I marched over and kissed her? Would she kiss me back? Would she beg for more? Would she let me kick every damn patron out and have my way with her on the coffee table I built?
Fuck, I hope so, and I hate that I hope so.
“Noah! Noah!”
I lift my head to find Izzy waving me over.
“Come here!” she calls.
“No!” Odette smacks her arm down. “Stop it, Iz.”
Of course, Izzy ignores her, and all it does is make me curious.
I drop the towel I was using to wipe down the counter and make my way over there.
“Uh, yeah?” I ask, darting my eyes between my sister and averygrumpy Odette.
Dirt and grime from our barn duties still cover her crossed arms. Her hair is a wreck, pieces sticking out every which way, and the safety goggles I forced upon her earlier are still sitting on top of her head. I wonder if she even realizes it or if exhaustion has set in that much.
“Noah, tell Odette she can’t come solo to my wedding.”
The woman in question huffs, blowing one of her errant hairs out of the way. When it falls again, she shoves it back up. She seems startled when she touches the goggles. She pulls them off her head with surprise.
I guess that answers my question.
“Why?” I say to Izzy. “I’m coming solo to your wedding too.”
“What?!” she practically screeches. “You are not!”
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
“No, you can’t.” She looks at Odette. “Youcan’t either.”
“I’m kind of busy planning the thing. I don’t have time to find a date.”
