He blinks. “My… orchard?”
“Yeah.”
A soft laugh escapes him, disbelieving. “You really want to see it? It’s not that exciting. Just rows of trees and a lot of old farm equipment.”
I scoff. “I’m from the city, remember? Rows of trees sound thrilling.” Then, more quietly, “And I want to see where you spend all your time. It’s obviously important to you.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe, softened by something warmer. He hesitates, then nods. “Okay. I can show you around sometime.”
“Tomorrow morning?” I suggest, leaning back against the wall, trying my best to look casual.
His cheeks pinken as he nods again. “Um, sure. Tomorrow works.”
A moment later, he’s heading for the door, boots scuffing softly against the concrete. He glances back once, offering a small, shy wave before slipping outside.
I stand there long after the door swings shut, staring blankly at the tanks. My chest feels light and floaty like a freshly cracked beer, bubbles racing upward with nowhere to go.
Christ. I’m already drunk on him, and I have no intention of giving him up.
“You didwhat?!”
Okay. This isnotthe reaction I was expecting from Imani when I told her about the partnership.
We only closed a few minutes ago. She’s in the middle of washing a pile of dishes in the taproom kitchen, gloved hands buried in suds. She freezes and looks up at me, eyes wide with something between concern and disbelief. The front of her apron is soaked through with water and dotted with grease stains, her curls twisted into a loose, messy bun.
I shift my weight, suddenly feeling like I’m on trial. “Uh, I’m collaborating with Ashton Tremblay,” I repeat. “We’re making a cherry hard cider together. It’ll be good for both our businesses.”
Imani peels off her gloves and drops them onto the edge of the sink, turning to face me fully. Her expression hardens. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Troy?”
My shoulders tense. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because the Tremblays are kind of a big deal in this town,” she says, crossing her arms. “One wrong move, and you’ll have half of Claremont Shores turning against you.”
I blink. “Nothing will go wrong.”
She snorts and turns back to the sink. “It will if you keep staring at him with those heart-eyes of yours.”
My mouth falls open. “I—what?”
She shoots me a look over her shoulder, unimpressed. “Oh, please. I saw your face when he stopped by the taproom last month. You’re obsessed.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Heat creeps up my neck, shame and embarrassment seeping under my skin. Shit. Have I really been that obvious? I’ve always been a flirt—it’s second nature to me—and half the time, I don’t even realize I’m doing it.
Imani softens, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I get it, boss. He’s hot. I mean, I’m not attracted to men, but evenIcan admit that.” Her tone shifts, turning serious. “But he’s a bad idea. If people start whispering about a sex scandal involving Ashton fucking Tremblay, it’ll end your career in this town.”
My eyes widen. “A sex scandal?! Jesus, Imani.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m pretty damn sure he’s straight. I just think he’s attractive, okay? It’s not like I’m actually going to… try anything.”
She tilts her head, clearly unconvinced. “Okay, boss. Whatever you say.”
I nudge her shoulder. “I’m serious. This is strictly professional.”
“Uh-huh.”
I exhale, defeated. “Whatever. I’m gonna head home and work on some paperwork,” I grumble, grabbing my jacket from the hook by the door. “Can you lock up once you’re done here?”
“Yeah,” she replies easily, turning back to the sink. “I’ve got it. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
