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CHAPTER8
Peyton
The alarm on my phone buzzed, alerting me it was time to close. I couldn’t remember the last time I was exhausted and energized after a long day. I enjoyed playing football. I loved winning. However, today was not about winning. It was about proving I had what it took to be successful. This summer, the lessons learned would help me when I enter Van de Graafs.
I had four chocolate milkshakes left. I called my sisters and enlisted their help. They were busy replenishing my stock for tomorrow at the place I rented near the beach. I think my little Twitter war with Chloe assisted in today’s sales. The huts were not large or air-conditioned. It wasn’t feasible to make the milkshakes here. I hooked up a freezer to the back of my Ford F-150 and plugged it into the AC outlet. It did the trick to getting my frozen treats transported without melting.
It was a schedule that would be my routine for this summer. Monica offered to work one day a week for me. I told her I would get back to her. Selling milkshakes on the boardwalk didn’t seem like it would be hard work. Before today, I was sure I could do it all summer without a day off.
Damn, I was wrong. I’d been open one day, and I was looking forward to heading home and taking a long hot shower.
My door opened.
I put the closed sign on the door, but I hadn’t locked it.
I turned to see who the culprit was. And behold, standing in my Shake Shack was none other than Chloe Wainwright.
I pulled a milkshake out of the cooler and thrust it in her direction. “Came to get your daily dose of sugar?” I teased.
She blew a strand of hair from her gorgeous face. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her. What had Chloe nervously fidgeting from one foot to the other?
“I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Come again?” I crossed my arms and smiled.
“I’m sorry I accused you of stealing my Tiger Stripe recipe.” This time she said it louder and with conviction.
“Why did you think I stole it in the first place?” I asked.
Chloe explained how she and her friend Amanda had experimented last week. She was convinced she had discovered this untapped delicacy. With the misconceptions cleared, she apologized one last time.
“What made you think of selling pre-made milkshakes?” Chloe asked as she accepted the cold treat from my outstretched hand.
“Do you remember the French Canadian exchange student we had in senior year, Jacque?” I watched as she shook her head no. “You called him Jackie.”
“Oh,” Chloe’s eyes shone with recognition. She put the straw to her lips. My brain melted as I watched her cheeks hollow from sucking on the straw. My dick jumped as she swallowed the chocolaty goodness.
“You mean Jackie Bear,” she said once her mouth was empty.
That made my brain take notice. “No, not Jackie Bear,” I laughed. “Jacque Hebert,” I corrected.
“Everyone called him Jackie Bear, Peyton,” she scoffed.
“No, Chloe, people called him Jack Hebert,” I insisted.
“His name is Jackie Bear.” She failed her arms wildly. “I swear everyone called him Jackie Bear,” she reiterated.
“That’s why you called him Jackie? Everyone thought you had a crush on him because you were the only one who called him Jackie. Everyone called him Jack,” I reminded her.
“Well, fudge sticks, I thought his name was Jackie Bear. That’s why I called him Jackie.” She laughed alongside me. “Did everyone truly think I had a crush on him?” Chloe blushed.
“No, not everyone, only Jackie,” I teased.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Chloe admitted. “Should I call Jack and apologize for my lack of understanding of the French language?” she asked.
“I don’t think it matters,” I told her. “It’s been four years. I’m sure Jackie is over it by now.” I deliberately mispronounced Jacque’s name.
“So, how does befriending our friend Jack translate to you selling milkshakes?” Chloe asked.
