Page 40 of Trick or Tease

“I’m serious. Do you have any idea how many calories I just consumed?” I gestured at the empty plates scattered around our booth. “That cinnamon roll alone was probably six hundred calories.”

“And worth every single one.”

I had to admit she was right. Everything I’d tasted was better than anything I could get in the city, even at the expensive restaurants I frequented. The flavors were deeper, more complex. You could taste the care that went into each recipe. When she talked about love being the secret ingredient, I got it. There was just something different about the food I kept getting served.

“You know what?” I said, my business brain kicking into gear. “You people could make a killing if you marketed this stuff properly. I mean, artisanal honey, small-batch preserves, handmade pastries. City people pay premium prices for exactly this kind of thing.”

Sabrina’s smile faltered slightly. “We do just fine selling the way we are.”

“But think about the potential,” I pressed on, my mind spinning with possibilities. “Online sales, specialty food stores, maybe even a subscription box service. You could scale this up, create real distribution channels. Not everything has to stay small-time forever.”

Her expression cooled considerably. “Not everything has to be squeezed for every last drop of profit, Garrett.”

The words hit me like a slap. I’d done it again. I had taken something genuine and tried to turn it into a business opportunity. Reduced their passion and tradition to dollar signs and market share.

And I pissed her off.

I seemed to be really good at that.

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Yes, you did.” She turned away from me, busying herself with straightening jars that were already perfectly arranged. “You can’t help yourself. You see something good and your first instinct is to figure out how to exploit it for maximum profit.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she was right. That was exactly what I had done. It was so automatic I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.

The easy camaraderie we had built over the morning evaporated. Sabrina threw herself into helping customers with forced enthusiasm and pretended I didn’t exist. I stood there feeling like an ass, watching her smile brightly at everyone except me.

15

SABRINA

Ineeded to get away from Garrett before I said something I’d really regret. After we packed up the booth, I made some excuse about having errands to run. I dropped him off at the house and hit the gas before he even managed to close the passenger door.

The man had the uncanny knack of making me happy, to horny, to pissed within the span of five minutes. I hated that I let him get under my skin.

Twenty minutes later, I was pushing through the door of Lucy’s Boutique on Main Street. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla candles wrapped around me like a hug. It was her attempt to class up the place. It did smell good and there was a sense of calm since she brought in the scents.

“Thank God you’re here,” I called out, spotting Lucy behind the counter.

Lucy looked up, her hair escaping from the messy bun she’d attempted that morning. She took one look at me and shook her head. “You look like you need to vent about something. Spill.” She gestured to a table with a box sitting on it. “Fold with me.”

I reached into the box and pulled out one of the sweaters and started to fold. Folding shirts, sweaters, or jeans was therapeutic.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Lucy asked.

“Garrett Hogan is what’s got me worked up.”

“Ah.” Lucy nodded and picked up a sweater from the box. She didn’t say anything else.

“He’s a jerk.”

“Always has been. But you knew that.”

“I took him to the farmer’s market with me today.” I started reorganizing the sweaters by color, needing something to do with my hands. “And he’s just… God, Lucy, he’s so infuriating.”

“Infuriating how? Like, bad breath infuriating or makes-your-heart-race infuriating?”

I shot her a look. She knew exactly what I was talking about. She was with the younger Hogan that seemed to get all the kindness and patience. Garrett got the mean streak.