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Chapter One
Grady
January 4th…
“About dang time,” Emmett mutters when I answer the door. Wordlessly, I walk away, leaving him to decide whether he wants to follow as I head for the kitchen. If we’re doing this, I need help. Popping in a k-cup, I stare at the machine while it begins brewing. When I see Emmett’s mouth move from the corner of my eye, I hold up a finger, urging him to wait. Being best friends our entire lives, he, of course, ignores it and wants to know how soon I can be ready.
Now able to open an eye, barely, I look at him, trying to decipher what he means. “Why are you here bugging me instead of at home with your wife?” Kenna is perfect for him and vice versa. He met her after he relocated here and the rest, as they say, is history. As our friendship will be if he doesn’t stop being so freaking cheerful. I could just go back to bed, but not only would he follow me, the caffeine has started kicking in, meaning sleep will elude me.
“She’s at school,” he pouts. I have to give him credit for at least waiting until after eight to come over. “Still wish you would’ve let me return the favor,” he says, referring to when I assisted him last year. “You know I would’ve helped you move.”
I do. Emmett would do anything for me as I would him. “Seeing as how I didn’t know exactly when I’d get to hit the road, you’d just be sitting there twiddling your thumbs.” Besides, as much as our friendship is more like that of brothers, I know he hates being away from Kenna longer than absolutely necessary. Grinning, I suggest, “You can help me unpack, though.”
“Pay me in beer. Ooh, and cake.”
“Wow, you retire from the MLB and just let yourself go, huh?” I joke. He flips me off, but laughs at my teasing. The man could easily still hit a home run or steal a base or two without breaking a sweat. Me, my business has me doing it all day. My arms and neck are the very definition of farmer’s tan. I’ve tried to even it out, but my skin is not having it. “Fine, where are we going?”
“To get you some clients.” Then he claps his hands, telling me, “Let’s go. Daylight is a-wastin’.”
For the most part, Emmett is pretty laid-back, but arguing with him on this is a moot point. He can be the most stubborn person you’ve ever met if he’s intent on helping. “Can I at least get dressed?”
———
“Okay, so you’re now I’m charge of plowing the entire town as well as taking care of the greenery in the park.” Emmett seems quite proud of me for acquiring the contract with Sweetville’s mayor, Jeff Bronson. Though neither of us are mentioning I’m the only one that lives here with the experience, equipment, and interest in doing both.
Emmett warned me going in that my agreement with Bronson may only be temporary as he’s an older gentlemen and residents have been debating how long it’ll be before he retires. Taking that in mind, as well as knowing the more clients the better when you’re starting an already established business in a new location, we visited others.
As my service only covers public roads and the like, that leaves the establishments here to clear their parking lots, etc. That being said, we’re now on…I mentally count as I try to remember…
“This is the fifth,” Emmett informs me.
“I could’ve done that myself if you’d let me have a second cup of coffee.”
“Then you would’ve wanted a third and a fourth before walking out.”
“And?” He just looks at me, silently telling me the rest doesn’t need to be said. Conceding, I admit, “Yeah, okay. But I am exhausted, so I’ve earned the right to not do anything today.”
“Earned and getting are two different things.”
“When does Kenna get home again?”
Emmett grins, evilly, and answers with, “Three-thirty.”
It’s one. “I’m not going to make it. Tell my mom I love her.” Then I collapse against the nearest building and play dead.
“Stop being so melodramatic,” he huffs, though I can hear him chuckling. “If I feed you, can you find the will to go on?”
“Well, if moneybags is buying, I’m in.” I duck the smack aimed at the back of my head as he mutters about me needing help. He, of course, knows I’m teasing about him being wealthy, though he is thanks to his previous career. Even with all those zeroes in his balance, he’s one of the most down to earth people you’ll ever meet. Not to mention he and Kenna have been doing a lot with it in regards to donations that have benefitted numerous charities.
Returning to Ella’s Eats, the place he’d so cruelly taken me to earlier and stated we didn’t have time to linger, I rush toward a seat. Satisfied, I glare at him, daring him to make me move. He chuckles, takes his own across from me and shushes me when I ask about a menu. The woman herself seems to magically appear at our table and introductions are made. We’d met before, albeit briefly, so I appreciate Emmett’s courteousness, but Ella pish-poshes him.
“I may be older,” she states, “but my memory is just fine. And I know exactly where you live, so be careful,” she warns him. I laugh at his expense, which has her winking at me. “I’ll be right back with your meals.” Then she heads toward the kitchen, leaving me sputtering about how she didn’t even see what we want.
He says that was his reaction when Kenna first brought him here. “You won’t regret trusting her choices.” I look at him, not even bothering to hide my doubt, but I accept, letting him know I expect a PB&J if this doesn’t pan out. Thirty minutes later, I’ve wiped my plate clean, having essentially eaten my words.
“How does she do it?” I mutter in awe. I’ve never been a fan of open roast beef sandwiches, but that’s what she brought me, a gleam in her eye, so I tried it and proceeded to devour it, the mashed potatoes, and the side of broccoli. Then I used the homemade biscuit to sop up the leftover gravy from the spuds. “That was delicious,” I admit as I tip an imaginary hat at Ella when she walks by. She gives a curtsy, then points to the chef who happens to be poking his head out, as if he knows a compliment is coming his way. He imitates my move, then returns to manning the grill with a smile.
It’s then I know for sure, coming here was the best decision I’ve ever made. I can’t wait to see what else Sweetville has in store for me.
