“Moonshine,” Brooks answered easily. “Jake has always loved brewing it, and has gotten really good at it, and a lot of time he gets his flavorings from us.”
“Oh interesting.” I watch her eyes roam over the booth, looking probably a lot like I do when I’m working here. “I’m going to go grab another case of strawberries,” Sydney said, pointing at the almost empty container.
“I can do it.”
“Don’t worry, I got it.” She gave me a quick peck on the lips I wasn’t expecting and turned to go.
I touched my fingers to my lips and smiled.
“Hey, Brooks,” Gwen said as she approached the table.
I turned to greet her but was instantly soured by the face next to her. Preston Fairfield stood there, his arm around her. It wasn’t because he cared about her; it was about control, and it disgusted me.
“Hey, Gwen,” I said, specifically addressing her. “Are you having fun at the festival?”
“She’s fine,” Preston answered for her. “It’s the same as it is every year.”
I could feel my knuckles turn white as I grabbed the table in front of me, trying to keep calm.
“Can I get you anything?” I said through gritted teeth.
“No, we’re just looking around.” He peered over the produce with his nose turned up. “Are they organic?” he asked.
“Technically, not yet. But we are getting certified.”
“So no?” he said bluntly.
“No.”
He sniffed. “People really care about those things these days. This is all basically worthless without it. You may want to reconsider my offer before you’re all dried up and have to take the lowest deal you can get.”
“I think we’ll manage. And either way, I wouldn’t be taking any money from you.”
I could see his pale face light up in anger, the red bleeding over his cheeks.
“I’m trying to be fair. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to the farm.”
I stood up straighter. I stood taller than most humans, but I towered over this pathetic little worm.
“Are you threatenin’ me?”
The loud crash of a crate behind me drew my attention. Sydney was standing there, and she looked white as a ghost.
Chapter nineteen
Sydney
I walked to thetruck for strawberries, whistling as I went. Something about life here was just so… pleasant. Pleasant enough to make me want to whistle, apparently. I could also still feel the tingle on my lips where we kissed. I didn’t know what made me kiss him out of the blue in public, but it just felt right.
There was still no telling what any of this meant. Brooks hadn’t brought it up, and I had no plan to either. I wouldn’t even know what to say.
I’d thought about telling him about Preston, but how was I supposed to do that when I didn’t have a way to fix it? Every night I lay awake trying to figure out how I could, but I always turned up empty. I needed to sort it out soon, though. I couldn’t keep playing pretend like this; it was weighing too heavily on me.
As I rounded the truck, I jumped when I saw Bridget leaning against the side, smoking the small electric stick in her hand. She gave me a glance before shooting a long exhale to the sky that smelled like weed.
“Oh, sorry, you scared me,” I said, hoping to sound semi-normal.
“Don’t worry. I know I have that effect on people.”
