Cooper is about to nod but Tate cuts him off. “Actually this group of women could. They won the championship last year in case you weren’t paying attention. Honestly, I’m just pleased they didn’t smoke us in a shutout.”
Daisy doesn’t know what to do with that honest, non-misogynistic response and quite frankly neither do I. Tate notices he’s stunned us into silence and winks at me, turning back to his teammates.
I pretend to ignore him for about an hour after that as we eat but for some dumb reason, I am hyper-aware that he is there. Tate and I have been in the same space lots of times. Last year, we were in this very restaurant at the same time a lot. We were in the school cafeteria together more than once because we both lived in dorms last year. We even lived in the same dorm on different floors. We had two classes together, but he was somehow easier to ignore then than he is now.
I think it’s because we broke the seal of silence, thanks to Clyde and George’s brawl, and I’m sure the fact that I know what it feels like to have his tongue in my mouth doesn’t help. Ugh. Once the Burlington Farmer’s Market is over, I can get back to forgetting he exists.
As Gail clears our empty plates, Tate’s server brings him something he must have ordered. As he picks up his burger I smile and he catches me. “This is real meat, with real bacon not some giant contradiction on a bun, FYI.”
“It’s the four cheese bacon burger, right?” I say an he nods. “You know why that tastes so good?”
“The garlicky cream cheese stuff they put on the bun,” he replies. “It’s magical.”
“It’s not cream cheese. It’s our goat cheese,” Daisy interjects and as my grin grows, Tate’s wilts.
“What?”
“We sell our garlic and herb goat cheese to the Biscuit and they use it on that burger,” I explain. “It was actually Daisy’s idea and she made a version of it and had the chef try it, which is probably what sold him on it.”
“Huh,” Tate says and looks at the burger and back at me. He’s impressed and he’s fighting with his face inwardly because he doesn’t want to show it. “We sold our apple cider to Whole Foods across the tri-state area.”
“Past tense,” I remark. “Because your cider machine imploded and took half your barn with it. So what have you done to mitigatethatloss?”
He scowls at me. “I go to school for business lectures, I don’t need them here.”
“Touchy, touchy,” I mutter and bite back my condescending smile because I actually want him to open up to me, not shut down. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and take a sip of my iced tea while I watch him take his first bite of burger and try not to reveal how much he enjoys it.
I glance at Daisy and she picks up on what I’m trying to do, like a good sister. “Sorry, Tate. Maggie gets overzealous about the business side of the farm. It’s been her dream since she was like six, like yours must be playing hockey—professionally.”
Tate chews slowly, savoring it and then swallows and before he can answer, one of his teammates—one of the twins on the team, but I don’t know which one because I can’t tell them apart—does. “Tate’s got a real shot at going first round in the draft this summer.”
“So you’re entering the draft?” I ask casually.
Tate smirks. “Why do you care? Gonna miss me?”
“Not in the slightest,” I reply swiftly and the twin laughs. Tate glares at him, so he gets out of his seat and wanders down to the other side of the table.
“What are you going to do with the farm if you’re playing across the country or something?” Daisy asks and I glare at her. I don’t want to be so blunt with Tate.
“Why do you want to know?” Tate asks.
“Well I know you’re having…financial issues,” Daisy says and I kick her under the table. “Ouch!”
“She means that we Todds hold out hope every day that you might sell it so we can get some neighbors we actually respect,” I say and Jasmyn winces and Caroline stares at me.
“Harsh much, Mags. Geeze,” Caroline whispers.
Tate’s dark green eyes narrow and his jaw tenses. “Sorry to burst your bubble but we have no intention of selling the farm. And yeah, losing the cider press like you mentioned earlier hurt us a little. We sold out of almost everything we brought to the market yesterday except the caramel apples because you kept poaching our customers with your goat chews.”
“Goat’s milk caramels,” I correct with a hiss. “And they’re better than your caramel apples. Sorry not sorry.”
“You guys should have a friendly competition,” Caroline suggests and I kick her under the table too. “Ouch! God. Why so violent? All I’m saying is whoever makes the most money next farmer’s market, the other one has to stop selling their caramel product. It’s either that or you two arm wrestle for it and no offense Mags, but you’ll lose.”
Tate swallows down another bite of his burger and shakes his head. “I’m not going to stop selling anything. It’s our booth, technically.”
“You know you’ll lose. We sold way more than you and we’ll do it again next week,” I reply smugly. “We’re a better farm on every level. Sorry if the truth hurts.”
Tate frowns. “Fine. I’ll make a bet. But I want bigger stakes. Whoever makes the most money next market has to skip the following Sunday.”
