Jace sighs as I ignore him in favor of screwing shelves into place. “Look, I know you’re used to things going your way. And you’re stubborn as fuck. That’s what happens when you’re a natural leader and you’re usually right about everything, and people respect you, even if they don’t like you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m just saying. You’re very comfortable being the big alpha at the table, whether people like it or not. Because you only care what a few people actually think anyway. Including me.”
“Nowthat’san unproven rumor,” I mutter.
“You keep your inner circle tight, love it that people trust you, but you don’t trustthemeasily. And you liked this girl. I mean, youlikedthis girl. I haven’t seen you into someone like that since—”
“Reallydon’t say it.”
“So, now you feel stung because, what? You think her pop-up shop stands in the way of your plans? You think you’re in competition with her for June’s favor now?”
“Wearein competition. Whatever deal she’s made with June, it’s supplanted mine. And in case you didn’t get the memo, June hates me and my entire family.”
“Whatever. You’re local, Sierra’s not. June isn’t stupid. She knows that building belongs with your family. She probably just forgot about your pop-up.”
“We ran the same pop-up there last summer.”
“A lot has changed since last summer,” he reminds me.
I ignore the way his voice takes on that wary, gentle tone. The tone everyone, even my best friend, has used with me since the accident, every time my parents come up in conversation. Like I’m delicate now. Fragile. Like there’s some hidden part of me that’s been turned to glass and should be handled with care—or it’ll break and puncture something vital, and all my ability to deal will leak right out.
Maybe it will.
“There was a plan, Jace,” I reiterate.
“A verbal agreement, maybe. But since the parties that made that agreement aren’t here to get specific about it,” he says carefully, “maybe you need to revisit that agreement with June. And this time, get that shit in writing.”
“It was my parents’dying wish, Jace,” I growl at him, as if any of this is his fault. I set my tools down and press my fingers into my eyes, taking a breath. “What the fuck am I supposed to do if I can’t finish what they started?”
When I walk into the bar in the late afternoon, my mood has only worsened.
DidSierra know who I was, and that I want Pier Seven, when she walked in here? Did she know before I did that we’re business rivals?
How would I fucking know?
I don’t knowher.
And starting to think that I somehow did after mere drunken hours in her company was nothing but sheer stupidity. A dumbassbout of temporary insanity brought on by alcohol, her ridiculously beautiful eyes, and her incredibly convincing damsel-in-distress act.
That woman was never in distress.
I shut myself into my office, try to focus on what’s important. Work.
Tourism surges in Orchard Cove in early June with the lead-up to Sunshine Fest, which happens over the solstice weekend and kicks off the summer season. We have a uniquely Mediterranean-like climate here in the Cowichan Valley; the area yields a wealth of organic produce and artisanal products, and Sunshine Fest is our town’s opportunity to proudly showcase what our home has to offer.
In the coming weeks, daily temperatures will steadily climb, local farm stands will start loading up with goods, and the wineries, craft beverage producers, and restaurants in the region will open up their patios and doors all day long as tourists flow through, winding their way along the Vancouver Island Wine Route and the Cider Trail. In Orchard Cove, other than harvest season, it’s the busiest time of year for me and my family.
Which is exactly why I planned to run a pop-up restaurant in Pier Seven—to showcase Sea Haven’s artisanal ciders and spirits, pairing them with seasonal foods from the menu at the bar.
I even would’ve offered June’s ciders on the menu, like my parents did when they ran the pop-up at the pier last summer. We don’t carry any of June’s products at the bar, but during the festival, I would have.
I should be deep in preparations for the pop-up and everything else that comes with festival planning, like the increased volume of business both the bar and the cider house can expect, and the beer and cider garden we set up in the bar parking lot during the festival.
Instead, I find myself searching for Sierra Daniels on the web and every social media app I can think of. I study her website, andall the accounts she runs to promote her pop-up smoothie bar, Cutie Fruitie.
When I search her name on Instagram, I find her personal account, some posts on other accounts about Cutie Fruitie ... and a strange meme featuring her and a purple dildo. “I can’t believe howBigit is!” she cries enthusiastically.
