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“Oh, nothing much, just about fifty people wondering what miracle or possibly apocalypse made you take two days off in a row in one week,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his words.
“I just had to go talk to my dad about something,” I replied. “So, you can stop thebig boss elopedrumors.”
“Damnit,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the BBQ to decide which cut of beef pairs well with our meads is organized for tomorrow at my house. Show up and be ready to eat.”
“You’re manning the grill?” I replied. “Remind me to walk in with my bottle of ipecac syrup.”
“Oh, shut it, smartass…I mean, bossman,” he caught himself, “Anyway, my sister is running the show. You know she is a chef, so show up.”
“I’ll be there,” I replied.
As for the mention of the Texas contract, my mind instantly landed on Mia; she had not mentioned it, and I—I didn’t feel right saying anything about it either. Besides, I didn’t want to talk about business with her; it would eventually lead to our families’ rivalry, and I was so sick of that.
I didn’t know if there had been anything between Victor and Sarah, and even worse, I didn’t know how it had ended—if there was something at all. It felt like a puzzle where we only had middle pieces; half of the frame was gone, and I could bet when we did put the pieces together, the main part would be missing.
Had he gotten her pregnant?
Had she really been sent to the convent?
Had he run off? How had he died?
What bothered me the most was that it felt like their ending was not a happy one, and I was afraid that Mia and I would follow in their ill-fated footsteps.
* * *
I was still in a mood over Dad when I got to Benji’s for the BBQ. As much as I tried to hold the irritation back, Benji saw me, and he lifted a stick with a red pennant flag, then shouted, “Weather report, guys; Bossman is in amood. Walk on eggshells, people,eggshells,I say!”
Aside from myself, I laughed, and the ire simmered away for a moment. I went to him, plucked the flag from his hand, and bopped him on the head with it. “Dork.” Turning to the guests, I said, “I’m fine. I’m completely fine, no eggshells.”
Benji’s sister, Amanda, laughed and came out of the house with a tray of meat in her hands. Jenna came out with a second tray, and they got the grill fired on. I went to the row of coolers and plucked up a beer from one of them, turned to Benji, and mock-scowled.
“No mead? You know this is a mead and steak tasting.”
“There’s cider,” he grinned mischievously. “Try it.”
While the steaks were prepared, I watched Benji and Jenna, and some of the rest make up the sides, asparagus, mashed potatoes, and vegetable salad. I still felt my stomach sink at how I had handled Dad the other day—but it needed to be done; the bandage needed to be ripped off. It was not like it was covering a cut; it was a fraying bandage over a festering sore.
“Hey—” I jumped at Cole’s voice. It was strange—he’d been in and out of the Meadery for the last few days, but I had not had a conversation with him in what felt like months. His gaze was wary and skeptical. “—are you okay?”
My lips twisted, and I looked down at the beer in my hand. “No…not really.”
“Is it this thing with Mia Sullivan?” he asked, and I didn’t even have the strength to ask him how he knew it. With how much this town gabbed, it was highly possible everyone around was whispering about it.
“No, it’s about Dad,” I told him, peeling a corner of the beer’s label. “Did you know that there is a possibility that one of our family members could have…fallen in love with one of theirs.”
“You mean aside from you and Mia?” Cole asked, his face straight.
“I am not in—” I gave up. There was no chance I had of changing Cole’s mind from what he had already decided about the situation. “—anyway, I went to ask Dad about it, and he brushed it off like it was nothing. But the thing is, he knew or heard about it but led me, led us, to believe we were nothing but enemies. Cole, I amdonewith this rivalry thing between our families, and I’ll be damned if I let it go on another year, much less a hundred.”
His brows inched up, and he whistled. “Oh, damn.”
“And you—” I jabbed a finger into his chest, “Stop acting like the spotless kettle calling the pot black when you’ve been running around with Ryan Sullivan for years.”
“Oh ho!” Cole laughed, “That’s the difference, brother of mine. I’m notin lovewith Ryan. He’s just a genius kid who has equations and angles in his head, so he can help me hustle a lot of old drunks out of pool money. He’s a good wingman, too.”
“Whatever,” I grunted, taking a swig of my beer. “I just hate this situation, man.”
“Well,” Cole ruffled his hair. “I don’t mind it, and I am tired of this rivalry too. It does need to end, but how the hell do you think you can manage to get that done?”
