Page 52 of Firecracker


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I told him about Fortress and Honeybridge Mead, the offer Flynn had rejected, and my plan to keep the manufacturing in Honeybridge.

“Whoa.” Hayden grinned. “That would be phenomenal for Flynn. What did he say when you told him?”

“I haven’t talked to him about it yet. That’s where the confidentiality comes in. See, Flynn and I have… history.”

Hayden snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.” When I shot him a look, he spread his hands. “Dude, you once bought out every pack of Cocoa-Caramel Bits at Pop’s store just so Flynn couldn’t have any. When they hung your team shirt on the wall after Honeybridge High won the championship sophomore year, he crossed out theWin your name and changed it to Smellbridge.”

I snorted fondly. “I fuckingknewthat was him. But okay, so you agree that he’s automatically going to reject anything I suggest without considering it, right? That’s why I don’t want to even bring the contract up again until my bosses approve it and I can make him an offer he can’t refuse.” I grinned. “This deal is going to be life-changing for him.”

Hayden’s brow puckered. “But… what if he likes his life the way it is?”

“Being run off his feet every night at the Tavern, while also running the Meadery on the side, plus having to help his family at the Retreat, and take care of his grandfather, too?” I shook my head. “The man is exhausted. Heneedsthis, even if he doesn’t know it.”

“Right.” Hayden smiled gently. “Well, I hope it all works out. Let me know if you have any questions. I’m here. And I’m gonna tell Jonas to ask you about coming to jam with our band some night, too.”

I nodded. But after Hayden locked up and walked off, I felt… restless. After talking to Hayden about Flynn, I wanted nothing more than to find the man, wrap my arms around him, and reassure myself that we were on the same page now.Finally. Unfortunately, it was nearly noon, which meant the Tavern would be open and packed with regatta visitors again. Flynn would be way too busy to sneak away even for a moment.

I walked aimlessly down Fruit Street in the sunshine, past the art gallery and the Honeybridge Historical Society’s log cabin museum, and found myself climbing the three steps to the General Store before I’d consciously decided to go there.

The white clapboard building that housed the General Store was a large square with a wraparound porch. It looked nearly as old as the log cabin across the street, and probably was, which was why the store was a unique blend of a modern convenience store where local Honeybridgers came to buy bread and canned veggies and a touristy penny candy heaven. Flanking the three front steps were a pair of Rose of Sharon bushes that Pop Honeycutt tended like children.

I pushed open the front door, and the jangling of the bell transported me back to childhood. The air smelled like candy and Popsicles and the lavender sachets Willow Honeycutt made, and I felt myself calm immediately.

Pop was behind the long wooden counter, handing a messy-haired little boy some change and a wax paper bag. “You share nicely with your sister, Oak.”

The boy scowled. “No way. Lorna’s mean.”

Pop gave the boy a conspiratorial wink. “Remember, a mighty oak stands tall and shares its shade with everyone.”

The boy huffed. “I guess you’re right.” He snagged his bag off the counter and headed for the door. “Thanks, Pop.”

Pop laughed and shook his head fondly at the boy’s retreating form.

“Does it get old, teaching the kiddos how to get along?” I joked.

Pop looked up at me, and his smile widened, making the creases at his eyes deepen further. “I keep hoping one of you’ll actually listen. Until then, I keep trying.”

I laughed and walked closer, past the displays of souvenir candles and postcards and the low freezer of Popsicles, so I could lean my crossed arms against the counter.

Pop frowned. “You look tired, Frog. Up early fishing again?”

I smiled, thinking of the reason I hadn’t gotten more hours of sleep, and shook my head. “Nah. I wouldn’t go fishing without you. You’re my good-luck charm. Just… at loose ends, I guess. For a little while.”

“Hmm. Your mom doesn’t have anything she wants you to do to fill up your time?” Pop grinned like he knew better, and since he’d been greeting Honeybridgers in his store since the dawn of time, he probably did.

“Oh, plenty,” I confirmed wryly. “If I wanted to golf, or play tour guide for her guests, or lunch at the club… which I don’t.”

“Lots of other stuff you could do in Honeybridge that you’d like better.” He scratched his cheek with one blunt finger. “Lots of folks who’d love to see you, too. Your time’s what you make of it, whether you’re here in town or…” He waved a hand. “…wherever else you might go. But then, deciding what you really want to do is the tricky part, isn’t it?”

I blinked. “Are you… trying to give me some kind of life lesson here?” I demanded, amused. “Because I’m not little Oak. That stuff won’t work on me anymore.”

“Heck no. You’re grown and mature now. The way your mom talks, you’re about to be a vice president of your company.” He nodded toward a worn straw broom propped in the corner behind the counter. “But since you’re here and you’ve got nothing better to do, maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me out with a little sweeping.”

I raised one eyebrow, but his expression was all innocence. “Sweeping’s good for the soul, Frog.”

With a sigh, I went behind the counter and grabbed the broom.

“Heard you were here in town to acquire distribution rights to the Meadery.”

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