He bends, running a hand over the back of the duck. “Fucking hell, Larry. You’re a stubborn woman, you know that?”
Woman? I did not see that coming.
“But that’s okay. My life is full of stubborn women, so I know how to handle them.” He looks up and out at the dark clouds rolling in. “Even that obstinate ... gorgeous Odette.”
Gorgeous.
He just called me gorgeous.
Sure, he said I was obstinate first, but still. Noah Stevens thinks I’m gorgeous.
The teenager inside me likes that far too much. But the full-grown woman version of me? Oh, who am I kidding? She likes it too.
I clear my throat, and Noah whirls around. The second he realizes it’s me, his brows pull low as he shoves to his feet.
“What are you doing out here? Who’s in the taproom?”
I shrug. “Nobody.”
“What the hell? You can’t just leave the customers in there to go wild. You can’t—”
“I mean literallynobody,” I cut off his ranting. “Not a single soul has been in for over an hour, so I made an executive decision and shut down shop.”
“You can only make executive decisions if you’re actually in charge. Which you aren’t, in case you were wondering.”
“I believe Ezra’s exact words to me wereYou’re officially in charge.So that made me the boss, and, as the boss, I called it a day.” I point at the sky, which I swear has grown darker in the last minute. “I think everyone’s prepping for the storm, not worried about getting cider.”
“You don’t know that. People usually come to fill their growlers. Something to do when we inevitably lose power.”
“Ifwe lose power. We don’t know that we will.”
He gives me an unconvinced look, which I don’t blame him for one bit. We’ve lost power for less, that’s for sure. With the way these winds are already whipping and the fact that the worst of it hasn’t even come through yet, I’d say we’ll definitely be kicking it old school with candles and firelight tonight. Especially if that low thunder I hear actually turns into something. Thunderstorms are rare here—we lack sufficient humidity—but when they happen, they cause significant damage because people are unprepared.
“Were you really just fighting with a duck?” I ask, nodding toward Larry, who is staring up at us like she’s watching Mom and Dad argue.
“Yes. She was being a brat.”
I don’t even bother trying to hide my smile. “Whatever you say.”
He narrows his eyes. “Come on. I could use your help with the goats.”
He leads us to their pen, Larry trailing behind us the entire way.
We work together to lock goats into their pen, then secure anything loose and keep the animals calm as the sky gets darker and darker, fighting the wind the whole time.
“Think this is going to hold?” I ask over a big gust.
The coop—which Noah planned to redo anyway—is struggling against the windstorm already. It’ll be a miracle if it makes it through the night.
“It’s all we can do on such short notice,” he yells back. “Come on. Let’s head inside. I felt a raindrop.”
The second we step through Stick Taps’ doors, the sky opens, and water pours from the clouds.
It’s heavy and relentless, with more rain than we’ve seen in some time. Despite what most people think about the Pacific Northwest, the summer tends to be sunny and dry. We haven’t been hit like this in a while.
“Jesus.” I stare out the door as the sky brightens with lightning. “I really don’t want to drive in this,” I mumble.
“Good, because you’re not going to.” He stomps toward the bar, and I’m stunned by the finality in his words, almost like he would physically stop me from leaving if he had to.
