Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Oh.” It had been fun talking with them, and not just about business. We’d chatted about wine and the best spots in Portland for live music, and when I’d mentioned my favorite Caribbean restaurant in New York, Hayden’s wife had offered to make me her mother’s recipe for Haitian griot and pikliz one night. “I mean, we’re still friends, even if I don’t live here, right? You can call me when I’m in New York, too. Always happy to chat.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he said a bit doubtfully. After a brief hesitation, he went on. “Jonas Wellbridge-Littlefield was thinking of asking you to join our pickup band since you mentioned you’d played piano in that jazz group in college. Sometimes we play at the Tavern and that kind of thing. But… you probably wouldn’t’ve been interested in that, anyway.”
Natalie, who was setting up tables outside Sweet Buns, grinned and waved as I walked past, and I lifted my hand in return. “I mean, no, I would, Hayden. That would be totally my thing, but…”
“But yeah. You can’t do that from a distance. I get it. Same problem joining Jace Honeycutt’s relay team for the Lake Run this fall.”
“Jace Honeycutt?” I repeated. “Wants me on his team?”
“It’s for charity, Frog.” Hayden’s pause was rife with disapproval. “There’s such a thing as too much Honeycutt-Wellbridge competition.”
“No, of course! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…” Realization dawned. “Is that why he asked me to his dinner party?”
“It’s a potluck,” Hayden corrected patiently. “You know, where everyone brings a dish?”
I’d never been to a potluck in my life. The people I socialized with preferred to show off their private chefs at elegant dinner parties. What were you supposed to bring to a potluck?
“Yeah, obviously,” I agreed. “A potluck.”
“Anyway. Tell me more about the property you’re looking for.”
By the time I’d completed the slow walk up the hill to Wellbridge House, I’d outlined my wish list—industrial space inside the town limits, with the right zoning and environmental clearances, ideally available for a long-term lease to minimize Fortress’s cash outlay—and Hayden had given me a few other factors to consider.
“You’re asking for a lot,” Hayden said finally, blowing out a breath. “That’s a lot of space in a pretty central location, and we don’t usually have a lot of inventory. Remember that most Honeybridgers don’t relocate unless they absolutely have to.”
I scuffed my toe against the stone path that led to my parents’ door and frowned. “Don’t they?”
I’d spent my childhood anticipating my departure. I’d jumped at the chance to escape the narrow confines of this place. Hearing that other people didn’t feel that way was my second revelation of the morning.
Hayden chuckled. “Okay, maybe some of the guys you were friends with did. Davis and Baker. Cosmo. Thad Feldmann. Your cousin Redmond—and honestly, I can’t blame him because if your aunt Louise were my mom, I’d’ve had a hard time staying, myself. A few others, too.” He chuckled. “But no. Most of the rest of us have bloomed where we were planted. New folks have moved in and made us more diverse than ever. We’ve even birthed a whole new generation.”
As if on cue, his daughter giggled in the background and called, “Holy shoot!”
I huffed out something like a laugh. “Right. Well. Good luck with that. So, uh… nothing you can think of, property-wise, huh?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Hayden said slyly. “I just needed to give you a little background information so you’d understand why it’s a miracle that the Hornrath Chair facility is up for sale and that Rachel Cho is giving up her lease on her commercial kitchen space since she’s outsourced her candy manufacturing to a company down in Portland.”
I swallowed hard. “The Hornrath Chair Company? Hayden, I could kiss you. With tongue.”
“Wow. I mean, usually I work on commission,” he said dryly, “but… I think Fabienne would be down with that if she could watch.”
I laughed fully this time. “How soon can I see the space?”
“Hmm… Little Marie and I could meet you outside Sweet Buns in, say, an hour?”
“Perfect! I just need to go home and change,” I said without thinking.
“Go home? You’re out already?” His voice lowered. “Do tell.”
“Nothing to tell,” I lied as I jogged up the stairs and opened the front door. “I’ve been out jogging. See you in an hour.” I disconnected before he could ask me any follow-up questions.
I wasn’t going to say a word about anything Flynn-and-Frog related. I imagined one of the Honeycutts—or, worse, one of the Wellbridges—teasing Flynn about it and shuddered. Flynn would retreat behind a wall so high I’d never see him again. And I very much wanted to see him again… as soon as possible.
The way he’d given himself to me, responded to me with such perfect vulnerability, and begged me, “Please don’t leave,” was everything I’d wanted from him three years ago. Hell, everything I’d wanted from him even back in high school. In fact, it was all I could do not to run back down the hill to the Tavern and wrap him back in my arms.