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Huck was as eager as a puppy. “That’s what I told him. The bag-in-box setup will actually give additional shelf life to the mead itself. It provides a—”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, not bothering to interrupt politely. “What the hell do you know about the shelf life of mead?”
“Firecracker! Hey, buddy,” Huck said, beaming and throwing an arm over my shoulder. “I read an article about different ways beverage companies can reduce their carbon footprint. I think it’s important for Honeybridge Mead to set an example for—”
I interrupted him again because that was the kind of mood I was in. “Since when do you care about my business?”
Like a record scratch, my heated tone made everyone stop talking and turn to see what was going on. Huck’s eyes looked like saucers, and I immediately regretted my words.
JT’s forehead crinkled in concern, but he kept his mouth shut, thank god.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” I began, trying to figure out a way to un-asshole myself.
Huck shook his head sadly. “No. I get why you might feel that way, Flynn. Your mom and I aren’t always around to help out the way you’d probably like. But that doesn’t mean we don’t care about the Meadery. Or that we’re not proud of what you’ve done with it.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said again. “It’s just been a long…” I glanced at JT against my better judgment. Heat raced up my neck to my face. “Day.”
Castor, ever the peacemaker, shoved a cold mason jar holding some kind of fruit drink into my hand. “Rum punch. Chuck it down.”
I took a giant gulp, already knowing Cas’s special recipe would hit the spot. Instead of apologizing yet again, I wandered over to the water’s edge and focused on downing the alcohol in hopes it would chill me the hell out.
While I brooded, I overheard snippets of conversation. JT telling Willow about a vegan restaurant she should try the next time she and Huck were in New York. JT asking Pop if he needed more help in the shop tomorrow. JT laughing with Castor about something.
When Castor’s laughter turned to uncontrollable giggling, I turned to see what was going on. JT had his phone out and was showing something to Cas. Maybe a meme or video. Whatever it was, it was bringing such joy to my little brother’s face I couldn’t help but smile, too.
Damn JT Wellbridge and his charming personality. Damn him straight to hell.
I turned back to the water and tried not to think about him, but it was impossible. He was the kind of person who took up room in a crowd. People gathered around him and wanted to hear what he had to say. He had the innate ability to connect with individuals by finding common ground.
No wonder he was so good at his job. Everyone loved him. And he made people believe in possibilities.
The man sold dreams. And it was dangerous because there was a huge part of me that wanted to buy what he was selling.
When I went back to the food table to refill my punch from the large pitcher, Alden sidled up to me. “So… you and the froggie, huh?”
“Hush.” I glanced around to make sure JT wasn’t nearby. “It’s not… it wasn’t… I didn’t plan it.” Understatement of the millennium.
“I bet. But it was hot as fuck, right?”
My head whipped back toward Alden.
Whatever he saw in my face made him laugh like a hyena before taking another deep sip of his punch. “Yeah, I figured. That’s good, Flynn. Real good.”
I stared at my brother in shock. He was the only one of us Honeycutts who disliked the Wellbridges as much as—or more than—I did. “It is?”
“Hell yeah! Frog’s gorgeous. And yeah, okay, so a Machiavellian Wellbridge mind hides beneath those Wellbridge blue eyes. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy his big Wellbridge dick while you can.”
What?
I glanced down at Alden’s nearly empty cup. “How much have you had to drink?” He had to have been drinking a lot more than me to have outpaced me so quickly.
“Who remembers?” He snort-chuckled to himself. “Remembering shit,” he said seriously, “is a liability.”
“Did something happen?” I demanded. “You were fine in the car until Pop mentioned…”
Alden shook his head firmly. “I’m blowing off steam.” He poked me in the chest with his index finger. “Which is exactly what you should be doing. You can use the Frog for stress relief—which you seriously need, bee tee dubs—and then wave him a hearty godspeed whenever he fucks back off to New York. The perfect summer fling!”
While his words should have excited me at the idea of having a fling with JT, they made me nervous and jittery instead. The idea of JT leaving Honeybridge at the end of the summer should have brought me a sense of relief. A known end point for a casual, temporary thing should have made the idea of a summer fling perfect.
