"Keep him out of my roastery, Gallagher."
We glare at each other for a long moment. The air between us is thick and charged. Her lips part, and damn if I don't wonder what they'd taste like.
Without another word, she pivots and stalks out, Admiral trailing behind her. The door swings shut, and I'm alone again with the scent of coffee and the ghost of her light perfume.
I exhale hard, finally relaxing, and return to my roaster, the scattered beans still littering the floor. It’s a mess I'll deal with later. Right now, I have revenge to plan.
Chapter 2
Merri
The Pelican Point Town Hall is packed tonight, which is unusual. Normally, these meetings draw no more than twenty people, mostly retirees with nothing better to do and other business owners fulfilling their civic duty. However tonight, the wooden benches are full and the town’s who’s who are in attendance.
Shaking my head, I spot Brennen Murphy, head of The Celtic Knot Winery, up front with his wife Joselyn. And there’s Emma Dawson and her husband, Miles. There has to be at least a hundred people crammed in this room, and I sense an electric buzz in the air that has nothing to do with Mayor Barry Snyder’s typically boring agenda.
I slide into a seat on the left side of the room, next to my assistant brewer Tommy, who's scrolling through his phone and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. I don't blame him. Town hall meetings rank somewhere between root canals and gynecologist visits on my list of fun activities.
As a business owner, I have to show up to these things. Community engagement and all that. But he doesn’t.
"You know you don’t have to be here," I mutter as I elbow Tommy.
He glances at me through his long blonde bangs. "I need the hours." Whatever. He’s working for me as an intern and needs to bolster his time to get his college credits. I get it.
Just as I settle in, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Scanning the room, my eyes zip across the aisle and sure enough, there he is: the bane of my existence. Wyatt Dalton is on the opposite side of the room, his massive frame taking up too much space, arms crossed over his chest, and his narrowed dark eyes locked on me with a hostile intensity that would terrify most people.
I give him my sweetest smile and that little finger wave I know he hates so much.
His jaw tightens, and he looks away, staring straight ahead.
I'm still riding the high from this afternoon's fake tasting incident. The ladies from Aunt Patty’s walking club really came through for me, and I owe them big time. If only I had witnessed the look on his face when they showed up expecting a coffee and dessert pairing. From what Gladys reported, it was priceless, like he was about to have a stroke at any second. Absolutely hysterical. I wish I'd hidden a camera in there to capture it for posterity.
The mayor bangs his gavel against the podium and calls the meeting to order, his voice cutting through the chatter. He's a somewhat rotund middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, a set of veneers that will blind you if the sunlight hits them just right, and an energy that makes things happen.
"Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for coming tonight. We have some exciting news to share." The mayor beams at the crowd, practically bouncing on his heels. "As many of you know, Pelican Point has experienced significant growth over the past two years. We've welcomed fifteen new businesses to our downtown corridor alone, and our tourism numbers are up thirty percent."
Polite applause ripples through the room. I join in, though I'm not sure where this is going.
"Which is why," the Mayor continues, his voice rising with enthusiasm, "I'm thrilled to announce that Pelican Point has been selected for a very special partnership with Coastal Living Magazine! Joining us tonight is Ms. Jennifer Mitchell, the Assistant Editor."
He points to a severe-looking woman sitting off to the side. Her salt and pepper hair is scraped back into a tight bun and she has a that ram-rod posture that would make a general stand straighter. I nearly jolt when I realize her intense gaze is locked on me, and I glance away trying to focus on the mayor.
"Coastal Living is featuring Pelican Point in their spring issue, and they're running a Best New Business competition to go along with it. The only requirement is that you opened within the last two years." He pauses for effect, his unnaturally white smile widening. "The winner in each category will receive a full-page spread in the magazine, a feature on their website, and a cash prize of fifty thousand dollars."
The murmur of excitement sweeps through the crowd like a wave.
I snap to attention, my heart suddenly pounding. Fifty thousand dollars and a feature in a mainstream magazine? That's huge. It’s the kind of publicity that could really put The Sassy Siren Brewery on the map, not just regionally, but nationwide.
"The categories are as follows," Mayor Snyder says, consulting his notes. "Food and Dining, Retail, Professional Services, Arts and Entertainment, and Beverage."
My mind kicks into overdrive. The Sassy Siren Brewery is a year and a half old, which makes me eligible. And in the beverage category, who else would even compete as a new business? There’s the smoothie place near the beach, and thekombucha bar that went up near the grocery store a few months ago.
Which means my only real competition would be?—
No. Surely he wouldn’t qualify. No, no, no. He roasts beans and doesn’t brew coffee.
I turn my head slowly, like a character in a horror movie who knows the monster is right behind them but has to look anyway.
Wyatt stares at the mayor with the same dawning realization playing out on his face. His dark brows draw together, and I can practically see the dusty cogs turning in that thick skull of his. He glances my way, and our eyes meet across the aisle. The corner of his lips lifts in that same way it does when he senses a challenge.
