Chapter One
Ezra
“No.”
“Please?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“No,” I cut her off with a glare.
Odette crosses her arms over her chest, piercing me with a heated stare. “You’re a real jerk sometimes, you know that, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“And this doesn’t bother you?”
“Not in the least.”
She huffs. “All I’m saying is that adding an arcade would make this place absolutelyperfect. Can you imagine how fun it would be to play pinball when you’re tipsy?”
“Can you imagine how obnoxious that sound is going to be all day? No, because you’re not here all day. Actually, wait, yes, you are.”
I narrow my eyes at her, and she glowers right back.
The truth is, I like Odette Chambers. She’s funny and bright. Plus, she puts up with Noah, her fiancé, who also happens to be my business partner. She’s also done a lot to help make Stick Taps intonot just one hell of a successful cidery, but a sought-after wedding destination too.
This new harebrained idea of hers, though? While it does have its appeal, I’m not completely sold on it. I already have a headache from staring at my computer for far too long. Adding the incessant noise from pinball and video game machines would only exacerbate the issue.
“What the hell are you complaining about?” Noah Stevens, my best friend and the man responsible for cooking up the idea of two former NHL players opening a hockey-themed cidery together, appears from the hall leading to the bathrooms and stands at the bar beside Odette. “You spend most of your time holed up in your office anyway.” He turns to his fiancée. “And I thought we agreed thatIwould approach the sourpuss on my own first, then tag you in?”
Ah, so they planned this. Great.
Am I glad Noah found bliss and is now madly in love? Sure, I guess I’m as joyful as someone who doesn’t believe in happily ever afters can be. But am I stoked that I’m now being ganged up on by his wedding planner fiancéeandhim? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
It’s not the first time they’ve done this either. The last time ended with us getting miniature cows. While I admit they’re cute, they’re just another thing we have to add to our feed budget, thanks to all the other animals we have roaming around the picturesque Washington property.
But Noah doesn’t always think about that side of it. Of the two of us, he’s the doer, and I’m the numbers. While it works great most of the time, there are moments like these—like when Odette gets a “brilliant” idea—that I just want to hold his head over my ledger so he can take a look at our numbers and realize why we don’t need to keep adding shit to the business.
We’re doing good.Reallyfucking good. Why add the stress of more just for the sake of more?
Some days I feel like I’m already being stretched too thin as it is. Can I truly manage another thing?
“Did you tell him about the benefits?” Noah asks Odette.
“No, that was part of your pitch to him,” she responds, as if I’m not standing right here.
“Why don’t you just both get on with it so I can tell you no, and I can go back to my office. I was busy, you know. Working my way through applications. Somethingimportantsince we need help around here.”
With business picking up in ways none of us could have imagined, we officially need to expand our employee list. Not just to keep the cidery running, but also the farm. Between the chickens, goats, mini cows, and the cats that continue to show up, we’re running thin on people to help keep it all in check.
Odette rolls her eyes, which only makes her fiancé grin, then he clears his throat and leans against the bar.
His face is hard, his eyes serious as he says one word: “Fun.”
I quirk a brow. “Congratulations. It looks like hockey didn’t beat everything out of that head of yours, and you know a three-letter word. Anything else?”
