Page 128 of Sugar & Shadows

I’d only been to Thistle and Boar a few times since the sisters had reopened the inn a few years ago. It was the type of place that catered to rich New York tourists rather than small-town mayors/lawyers.

The lighting was low, the kitchen open concept with lots of stainless-steel. The dark wood paneled walls made it feel very exclusive. So did the menu that changed daily and the specialty cocktails inspired by local herbs and flowers.

Patrons were clustered at small tables, chatting and eating by candlelight, most with a bottle of wine in a fancy stand beside them.

And there, front and center, was Sabrina, leaning in and laughing as Ethan Calloway spoke.

She was in her usual uniform of all black and heels, her hair tamed in a slick back ponytail. Her giant leather tote bag sat on the floor next to her chair. Her skin glowed in the candlelight in a way that made my chest constrict.

Ethan, on the other hand, looked like Satan’s best design of a finance bro. He was wearing a sport coat—a fucking sport coat—like it was a second skin, and as he gestured, his gigantic watch gleamed. It was probably worth more than my house. He was tall and slim and had the kind of face that would probably feel right at home lying under oath.

A handful of weeks ago, I thought he was an okay guy. Now? I loathed him.

With my heart in my throat, weaved between other diners, ignoring the stares and chatter around me, and approached the table.

This wasn’t possessiveness. It wasn’t jealousy. This was my job. Ethan Calloway represented a corporation with a vested interest in the economic health of this town. Any responsible mayor would insist on joining this meeting.

“Hello.” I snagged a plush velvet chair from a nearby table and wedged it next to Sabrina’s.

The two of them stared at me. Ethan with a twitch of his lips and Sabrina with fire in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice almost a low growl.

“I heard there was a meeting regarding town economic development. Figured I should be involved.” I forced a smile that I hoped looked easy, but inside, I was raging.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing on his face.

“This is a professional meeting,” Sabrina hissed. “I’ve got it handled. You can leave.”

“A professional meeting? So why is there wine?” I quipped, gesturing to the glass in front of Ethan. Sabrina had water.

“Because,” the asshole drawled like he had all the time in the world, “adults often drink wine with dinner.”

I glared at him. “Yes. I know how wine is often served, Ethan. I just wonder why you’re drinking”—I picked up his glass and took a sip, wincing a bit—“a fruit forward white while discussing town business with Sabrina.”

He blinked at me several times before exhaling and looking back at Sabrina, as if the best way to handle me was to ignore me. “As I was saying. Your talent is wasted here. With your instincts and my resources, we could accomplish a lot more for the region.”

As Sabrina shifted, I caught sight of a pen and notebook on the other side of the table. She’d been taking notes.

“Five bucks she throws the wine,” a man nearby said.

“She’s pregnant,” a woman responded. “She’ll weaponize the bread instead.”

I ignored the peanut gallery, focused on the job I had to do. If this was about town business, then I needed to be here.

“Please catch me up.” I broke into a big, fake smile.

Sabrina huffed. “Gabe, what are you really doing?”

“Supporting the local economy,” I deadpanned.

“This was intended to be a more intimate meeting.” Ethan steepled his fingers. His blond hair was perfectly arranged in a swoop across his forehead that probably took forty minutes and a half dozen hair products to achieve.

Stupid Ethan and his stupid hair. What kind of grown man had blond hair anyway?

“I care deeply about regional commerce,” I said. “Please keep going. I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

As a server approached the table, I gave her a brilliant smile. “Water for me,” I said. “I’m working. And could you send over some bread?” I put my arm around Sabrina’s chair. “She’s pregnant. Needs to snack.”