I stop dead.
“So, I guess you’ve got yourself some healthy competition,” she says, and disappears around a bend in the path.
“So, what’s going on with Pier Seven?” Evan asks me. “Thought you were supposed to be in there this month.”
“Yeah. Turns out that’s not the case,” I say neutrally.
Everything in town shuts down on Mondays and Tuesdays—not enough out-of-towners coming through on those days to support the local businesses—and we’re deep into our third poker hand of the night. The bar is closed. The cider house is closed. And even though there’s always work to do when you run a family business, nearly every Monday night for the past few years has been poker night for me and my brother and our best friends.
Sometimes we don’t even get around to playing poker. But we all take turns hosting and cooking dinner, and tonight, it’s Evan’s turn.
He lives across town, meaning on the other side of Cherry Way—past the pier, his house overlooking the water. We’ve set up at a table on his back porch to play cards and enjoy the view, and the chill, country-leaning rock that is Evan’s thing. And even though Evan isn’t much of a cook and kind of cheats by bringing in takeout sides he picks up in Cobble Hill to go with the steaks he grills, I’m glad he’s hosting this week.
If we met up at my place, there’s too good a chance someone would overhear something I don’t want them to.
Like my grandpa, who’s already given me grief several times about “falling for June Spencer’s trickery” ever since he found out about the smoothie bar opening up at the pier. He’d definitely have words for me if he knew I’d seen June today and that she was considering letting some woman from the city have Pier Seven—possibly long-term.
I’m not planning to mention anything related to June Spencer or Sierra Daniels or Pier Seven, but someone—inevitably—brings it up.
“What’s Tommy think of that?” Evan asks.
“Exactly what you’d think,” I say. “He’d probably rather burn Pier Seven down at this point than let June keep it. He’s entirely irrational when it comes to that woman.”
“Well, don’t look at me for any help with that,” Jace says. “I’m on thin ice with Tommy already. I say one word about June Spencer in his presence, he’d probably ban me from the Grant family’s illustrious properties for life.”
“Thought you were already banned,” Evan pokes.
Layne grins. “Yet he keeps coming back.”
“The fact that you think I’d come to you for help about anything is stunning,” I say to Jace.
“At least I’ll admit that I like the old bastard, even if he doesn’t like me.” He looks pointedly at me. “Some of us are having a little trouble naming our feelings lately.”
I flip a middle finger at him.
“Meaning what?” Layne asks.
Evan looks from me to Jace and back. “Yeah, am I missing something?”
“Just that Mason’s deep in self-denial mode,” Jace announces. “That shit kicked in hard when that fuck-hot brunette came to town. He’s been worked up about her ever since. Terrible company. Grouchier than ever.”
“What brunette?” Evan asks. I guess Jace hasn’t blabbed to him yet.
Shocking.
But I am so not getting baited into this.
“Self-denial?” Layne raises an eyebrow at me in question.
“You know. That thing he does where he won’t go after what he really wants,” Jace explains, “because he’s so busy holding the entire town together, taking care of what everyone else wants.”
“I do not do that,” I say flatly. What the hell is he even talking about? “I do not do shit because other people tell me to. What the fuck.”
“No,” Jace says, “you do stuffforother people, before they even ask you. You’ve always put other people’s wants and needs before your own.”
“Not true.”
“Very true,” Jace counters. “At this point, you probably don’t even know what you want. Which is why I’m here to help you see the light. And for the record, it is shining out of that woman’s pussy.”
