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She sat up straight, eyes narrowed. “Ever heard of a joke?”

“See, you did it again.”

“No I didn’t.”

Leo simply stared at her with those piercing blue eyes. She squirmed under his gaze, uncomfortable by the way he was paying attention to her. Uncomfortable that he was paying attention at all. She did make him promise to keep their family secrets if he ever found out. But she would do her best to keep them hidden from him as long as possible. Maybe forever.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, Alana closed her eyes again. “I hate this,” she grumbled.

“The market?”

“Yes. There are too many people here.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? More business?”

“Not when we’ve always been a small family operation. If we get too big, we have to expand and hire, and hiring has never been on the table.”

“And yet, your family hired me.”

She sat up, wiping her sweaty hands on her cutoffs. “You are, apparently, an exception.”

Leo crossed his arms. “We have operated this market and the business fine without needing to hire any staff. Except for this one woman who decided to barrel in and try to take my job.”

She glared at him. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be here?”

He leaned forward, those cold blue eyes sparking. “Ever heard of a joke?”

She continued to glare at him. “Touché.”

The corner of his lips twitched in amusement. He stood back up in time for another group of people to approach their booth for a tasting.

Freya walked by with a beaming smile. The sight of it made Alana do a double take. She wasn’t sure the last time she saw Freya smile in that way. She was either genuinely excited about this market or trying to make people think she was to generate more sales. Alana suspected it was the latter.

Her sister joined her, still wearing that same smile. “How are things going?” she whispered.

Alana nodded as Leo bagged two more bottles. “We’re almost out of the rosé.”

“Good.” She scratched something off the clipboard she was holding. “We should still have eleven cases of the last vintage, so that should get us through the rest of summer and into the fall.”

“You do these markets in the fall as well?”

“Until the cold is too biting, yes. The community loves it. And it’s good money.”

Alana scanned the crowds. It seemed to be more locals than tourists or visitors. “Do you get this turnout weekly?”

“We do, almost without fail.” Freya blinked up at her with the smallest smirk.

Alana smiled back, understanding what her sister implied.

The moment quickly vanished as Freya went back to scribbling on her sheet. “Chris is here.”

Every single muscle in her body tensed. “He is?”

Freya pointed her pen to a tent down the slope.

It was Sophie’s tent, the awning featuring bright stripes of butter yellow and lavender purple. Her table was packed with her usual goodies—goat cheese, honey, fresh-cut and dried bouquets of lavender, cartons of eggs, and, of course, their mom’s signature lavender tea. Her yellow sundress matched the color of her tent, and she was covering her mouth in a fit of laughter.

Chris stood on the other side of the table holding a fresh bouquet of lavender and a White Tail Brewing tote bag around his shoulder. He was grinning ear to ear.