“That’s a little crazy,” Daisy replies.
“Scared, huh?” Tate smirks.
“Hardly,” I say as Caroline and Jasmyn stand up and drop money on the bill Gail brought us earlier. I dig out my wallet and add my money to the pile.
“So it’s a bet then?” Tate says and wipes his hand on his napkin before extending it toward Daisy who tosses her money on the table and walks away without taking his hand.
I take it though and give it a short shake before pulling back like touching him was painful. The problem is that it wasn’t. At all.
“We’ll win and we’ll be doing you a favor. Give your family an extra day to fix the side of your barn, which still has a giant hole in it thanks to your cider making skills,” I say, making exaggerated air quotes as I say the word skills. Then I turn on my heel and stomp off, shoulders back and head up high.
“The machine malfunctioned! We’re just waiting on the insurance money!” he calls out defensively but I ignore him completely.
As we walk home Daisy looks at me, her dark eyes serious. “If he makes the NHL, it sounds like he’ll keep the farm.”
“Maybe,” I say. “I’m not convinced. Yet.”
“That land is perfect for our business expansion,” Daisy reminds me, like it wasn’t my idea in the first place.
“I know. I know,” I say and sigh. “We’ll just have to spend our Sundays convincing Tate he really doesn’t want to keep the farm.”
“Or maybe you could actually try to build an actual truce with them,” Jasmyn suggests and her wide mouth parts in a smile, which I’d like to think is sarcastic but I think she actually means what she says. “You guys could forge a friendship and then tell him you want to buy it. I bet they’d consider selling it to you if this insane feud was over.”
Daisy and I stop walking and stare at her, then each other, then back at Jasmyn. “Yeah, no,” Daisy and I say in perfect unison.
“You two are doing this the hard way,” Jasmyn warns and Caroline is nodding her blonde head beside her.
“It’s not possible to fix it. Trust me this is our only way,” I say.
Neither of them say anything as we turn onto our street but Daisy nods in agreement, and that helps quell the doubt that has sprouted in my gut.
8
Tate
The hardest part of this entire plan has been keeping a straight face all week when I saw Maggie on campus. And for some reason I’ve seen her more than normal. Well, I’ve noticed her more anyway. I blame the damn spin the bottle game. If I had kept my lips off her, maybe I wouldn’t be so hyper-aware of her existence. It was dumb. I knew it when I was doing it—and I really didn’t want to do it. But I’m competitive to a fault so I couldn’t just walk away after that damn bottle landed on her. She’d take that as a win. She can never win. Not against me. So I kissed her, fully expecting it to be as disgusting as if I was kissing my cousin or something but…it really wasn’t. It was good. Great. Hot as fuck.
Maybe that’s what has given me the inspiration I need. Maybe I should be thanking her, I think with a wry smile as I wait impatiently in the parking lot for Lex, Jonah, Cooper, Patrick and Paxton, who all volunteered to help me. Well, I kind of strong armed a couple of them into it, but hey, it was a perk of not being a rookie anymore. I lift my butt off the tailgate of my truck as I see my teammates making their way across the parking lot to me. “On time and everything. Thanks guys!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Patrick says with a smile. Paxton just nods beside him. He’s not as up for trouble like his brother usually is. And this is most definitely trouble.
A truck I recognize as Bobby Todd’s and Maggie and Daisy’s familiar mini-SUV come down the road and park a few cars up from us. The girls get out first and Maggie makes sure to glare at me as she walks to the back to open the trunk and takes out whatever goat products she’s packed in there. Daisy opens the back passenger door and pulls out a long, rolled up thing and kicks the door shut with the heel of her Ugg-covered foot as she struggles with it.
She starts to march toward us as their uncle Bobby and their menace of a grandfather Clyde are fussing with whatever’s in the back of their truck, and arguing just loud enough that I can hear the venom in their tone but not make out the words. Maggie stops what she’s doing and hisses in their direction. “Clyde, best behavior, you promised.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Magnolia Todd,” Clyde snaps. “You need me today because your dad got too tired last market. Just another reason why I should sell the damn place.”
His vile mood makes my grin deepen. “Perfect. They’re already ornery, and Clyde is likely to explode when he realizes what I’ve done. If I’m lucky he’ll make a scene and get them all banned from the market forever.”
Patrick shakes his head and grins as he says, “I don’t get it. She’s hot. Make love not war, Adler.”
“Hey I didn’t start this feud. I’m just going to end it, once and for all,” I say with an easy shrug, like I don’t have a care in the world. But I do. On top of wanting this to go so well for Adler Apples that Maggie gives up, takes her goat cheese, and goes away, I also need this to make us some good cash for another reason. Jace was frantic when he called me Tuesday about the amount of apples that were damaged in that mini freak storm we had around four in the morning. The winds were insane and a ton of apples dropped and were banged up to the point where selling them at the market would be embarrassing. The solution I came up with was borrowing a dunk tank from Jace’s best friend’s dad, Otis—who owns an events business—setting it up just across from the booth in the field near the parking lot and having my teammates volunteer to get dunked by customers paying to throw our banged-up apples at us. It had to work because it was all I had to beat her in sales today.
A second later, Maggie is carrying two coolers past as I motion for the guys to each grab a barrel of apples, and I grab one too. We start walking a few steps behind her. She twists her head to glare at me over her shoulder. Her long hair is pulled into a low ponytail and a few pieces have already escaped and are curling around her face. I think of what Patrick said. She is hot, even with that sour look on her face, there’s no denying it. If Maggie Todd wasn’t Maggie Todd I would probably try to make that spin the bottle kiss a hell of a lot more. But sheisMaggie Todd—the enemy. The mortal kind, not the kind you…
“What the ever loving sweet baby Jesus isthat?” she says.
Paxton, Patrick and the rest of the guys stop dead and I slow my gait but continue making my way directly to the dunk tank Jace is filling with water. Lex is on a step ladder hanging the banner across the top that says “Dunk A Hockey Hunk.”
