“Cute.” She held the shirt up to her front.
Major elbowed his son. “Give her a shirt. She’ll sell more than me and you put together.”
Cash rubbed his jaw. “It’d look better on you than on these guys.” He hooked his thumb towards a group of scraggly bearded guys in suspenders and ratty jeans.
Rubi flushed under his open praise and the honesty in his gaze. For once, he wasn’t teasing her, though she wished he was. The teasing she could handle. His honesty made her duck behind her hat.
They folded T-shirts in silence for a few minutes as attendees began to file through. They glanced at items, making a quick run around the warehouse-sized building. Rubi hoped, for Cash’s sake, more people stopped and checked out the goods.
“Well, if it isn’t the least of the competition.” A man with slick black hair and a wide smile slapped Cash on the back. Cash’s eyes tightened, like a tiger noticing a threat.
Rubi continued to work as she observed their exchange.
“I admire your determination, cousin. Pushing forward in the face of failure is admirable.”
Cash shrugged off his hand. “How are things going up front, Brett?”
“The fishing pond is killing it.”
Rubi sniffed. So that’s where the fish poop smell came from. She’d thought it was a warehouse thing, not the product of a promotional stunt.
With every word, Cash’s shoulders lowered. Rubi didn’t know much about this expo thing, but she did get that Brett had dropped some major money to put his booth front and center and she caught the rubbing he gave. A sensation much like the lighting of a protective fuse began in her belly.
“Who’s that?” she asked Major.
“My nephew.” Major widened his eyes a bit, giving off the vibe that he’d rather not claim the man as such but had no other choice.
Rubi was appalled. “Why is he here?”
“He owns an outdoor store and thinks he’s the prince of product. He won’t carry Cash’s stuff, says there’s a nepotism issue if he does.” Major’s tone plainly conveyed his skepticism.
“You don’t think that’s it?”
“Brett’s a year younger than Cash and he’s always felt like he had somethin’ to prove.”
“There’s no need to be a jerk. Let your products speak for themselves.” Rubi straightened a bag and tugged on the front pocket so it hung prettier.
“I agree. There’s not much to do about him though.”
Rubi glared at the slick salesman with the chip on his shoulder. She was so absorbed in the drama unfolding in front of her that she didn’t notice the group across the path until a man touched her arm. “Rubi?”
Rubi blinked. Her first instinct was to run, but she knew this guy from somewhere. An image of Mr. Potato Head popped into her brain. “Tyson?”
“Yeah—see guys, I told you she’d know me.” Tyson waved over the group of men.
Rubi’s chest seized. The situation was about to explode. She could feel the curious eyes pounding in from all sides. Pretty soon, she was surrounded by Tyson and his friends as he introduced her to the group. Their eager smiles and animated movements made her mouth go dry. Several of them held up their phones, taking pictures like she was an otter at the aquarium instead of an actual person they should ask permission from before snapping selfies.
“Can I have your autograph?” asked a man in a white shirt and worn Levi jacket.
Rubi tried to smile but wasn’t sure if it was coming across. She rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t let things get out of control; she needed to be here to catch Trent. The clock ticked on the amount of time she had left in Atlanta. Lifting her chin, she caught Cash’s questioning gaze. She needed his help.
But he needed her help more.
Maybe
She glanced between him and his jerk of a cousin. The smug smile and swagger in Brett’s stance lit her protective fuse. She flipped around and grabbed an extra-large blue tee that would surely fit this guy. “You bet.” “But I’m only allowed to sign Sweet Birch gear today, so you’ll have to buy a shirt.” She unfolded the shirt and put it against his chest. “I like this one.”
“Sold.” He took the shirt and went to Major, who rang him up. Several other guys in the group did the same thing. She was signing her sixth shirt when a low murmur rumbled through the room like an aftershock of an earthquake. The marker flipped out of her hand.
