“Elena’s Creations,” I say automatically, a swell of pride pushing up my throat. “Yeah, it’s so good. Actually, one of my best friends is a baker with her own shop. She worked in collab with Elena not that long ago.”
“No kidding?” Reed says. “Do you get free samples?”
“I get to taste all the new creations before anyone else. It’s the main perk of the job.” I look down at my sneakers, smiling. “I only left Lakeview a few days ago, and I miss them already. Her, and Harper, and Beth. Though Beth got married recently and she’s off on an extended honeymoon with her pack, so...”
“I mean,” I add. “The bad part of the holiday is being alone. But no one else had time to go to the retreat with me and I really needed to get away. Oh well,” I shrug. “It is what it is.”
Bram slows his pace, stepping in beside me to block the cool wind coming off the creek. “Well,” he says, his voice a low, grounding rumble. “Tonight, let’s just make sure you feel looked after.”
My stomach does the thing.
Just a few minutes’ walk past the bridge, a heavy oak door tucks back between two facades. Gold light bleeds out from the seam, and a chalkboard out front, lit by a single hooded bulb, readsMaggie’s. Bram puts his palm on the iron handle, holding it open for me.
The door barely has time to close behind us when somebody calls Bram’s name.
“Bram.” Older, gravelly, from the side of the room with the dartboards. A man with snow-white hair lifts his chin. “Tell that asshole at the county office I’m still waiting on my permit.”
“You’ll be waiting next week too, Hal,” Bram says.
Hal grunts and turns back to his board, muttering something at the dart in his hand.
Two booths down, a guy waves at Reed, who waves back. Behind the bar, the bartender lifts her chin at Ash. Bram catches a waitress’ eye across the room. She tips her head toward the corner booth and he nods, steering me into it with his hand at my shoulder blade.
I slide in. The leather of the booth is cracked along the seat, soft.
“Well well,” the waitress says as she arrives, dropping a stack of cardboard coasters on the table, “if it isn’t the Miller boys.” Her eyes land on me, glinting. “And someone new. Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hi,” I smile.
“Maggie, this is Luna,” Bram says. “Luna, Maggie.”
“Maggie,” I say. “Like Maggie’s Maggie?”
“The one and only.” She plants a hand on her hip, looking me up and down with a smile. “So which of these three roped you into a Sunday at Maggie’s?”
“She came willingly,” Reed says, winking at me. “Attracted by the prospect of a good time. She’s our new VP of fruit, by the way.”
Maggie’s grin spreads slow. “So what’re we drinking, VP?”
“How about some cider?” Bram asks.
“How about a gin and tonic?” I ask.
A laugh punches out of Maggie. It is loud and head-back. I freeze with my mouth still half-open.What. Did I just do.
Reed leans across the table, planting both hands flat on the wood. “Luna.Luna. Two things. One: I’m not entirely sure Maggie even stocks gin. Two: the cider in this pub comes from our orchard. Every glass.”
“The cider that’s gonna put Honeycreek Hollow on the map,” Maggie cheers, lifting an imaginary toast.
“Ordering a gin and tonic at Maggie’s?” Ash says, his smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s practically treason, Luna. Especially since our name is on the tap.”
“Treason, even.” Maggie does not blink.
“You’d have to leave,” Reed says, very gravely.
“We would let you leave,” Bram adds.
“Alright then,” I laugh. “One cider, please.”
