His gaze snaps to mine, something conflicted flashing there. “Legally? Yeah.” He exhales slowly. “But… I know it would make him upset. He had a hard enough time accepting that Luke took a job as a bartender—said it gave our family a bad reputation.” He lets out a brittle, humorless chuckle. “I can only imagine what he’d say about this.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So even though you’re the boss, your dad still gets to call the shots?”
Ashton opens his mouth, then shuts it again, nostrils flaring—not with anger, but with something that almost looks like shame.
I lift both hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not trying to overstep, Ashton. Really. I just think… maybe you’re putting too much weight on what he thinks. What doyouwant?”
His arms fold tightly across his chest, a barrier pulled up between us. “It’s complicated, Troy.”
I exhale slowly, leaning back in my chair. “Alright,” I say gently. “I get it. You probably need some time to think. No pressure.”
He nods once, the tension in his jaw loosening a fraction.
I glance toward the bar. “Can I at least get you a drink? On the house.”
His eyes widen a little. “No, thank you. I should get back to the orchard.” He stands awkwardly, rubbing his palms on his thighs again.
Figures. I’ve never met anyone who works harder than Ashton.
I rise to my feet, giving him a small, crooked smile. “Well, I’m glad you came by. And for what it’s worth, I think you and I would make a great team.” I let my voice dip low before adding, “Professionally… and maybe otherwise.”
His lips part in a stunned little breath. A strangled noise escapes him—half cough, half embarrassed laugh—as he fumbles for a response and finds none.
I grin. “Shoot me a text if you make up your mind. Have a good night, Ashton.”
“You too,” he manages, cheeks pink as a summer sunset.
He hurries out of the brewery, almost tripping over the threshold in his rush. I watch him go, a slow smirk curling on my mouth.
This pull toward him—the insistent ache low in my ribs—is getting impossible to ignore. Something about him feels inevitable, like waves carrying me toward a shore I’m destined to reach.
He might not realize it yet, but sooner or later, I know he’ll be mine.
Chapter Ten
Ashton
Thesunisunbearablybright today—so bright that even with my sunglasses on, I have to squint as I scan the crowded beach. I lie on my towel with my arms folded under my head, staring at the lake that looks like a sheet of glittering blue.
It’s the first scorching hot weekend of summer, and it seems half the town has migrated to the shoreline. Kids shriek as they sprint in and out of the waves, leaving muddy footprints and lopsided sandcastles behind them. Teenagers splash and dunk each other underwater, earning scoldings from the lifeguard. Tourists stroll across the pier with dripping ice cream cones, damp swimsuits clinging to sunburned skin.
Beside me, Phoebe lies on her stomach, chin propped in her hands. She came with me out of pity—I know she did—because even though Luke’s whole friend group invited both of us to this beach day, they’re really his friends, not mine.
A volleyball suddenly smacks into my forehead with a dullthumpbefore rolling away in the sand.
I wince, muttering a curse as I shoot Luke a glare. He’s already laughing as he jogs over to retrieve the ball.
“C’mon, man. Play with us!” he calls.
I shake my head firmly. “I’m good. I’ve gotta work on my tan.”
Luke gives me an incredulous look. “You work outside all day—”
“Exactly.” I point to the stark tan lines wrapping around my biceps. “Farmer’s tan. Needs fixing.”
He groans and turns to Phoebe. “What about you?”
She snorts. “No way. I’m not getting sweaty and having sand stuck to my skin all day. Gross.”
