by Brisa Starr
“Yikes, Ryker. Not a smart move.”
“Ya think?” I bite, but he takes my sarcasm in stride; it rolls off his back. “Then Mom came up to me and started talking shit about Aspen… how she’d only like me for my money. And dammit, Dad, I’m just so tired of people wanting to be with me for my money. I didn’t think Aspen was like that, but then I thought about her obsession with making money, and, well, I snapped.”
“Hm. I see your mother stirred the pot. She’s good at that.” He shakes his head and stands up to walk over to me. “Look, Ryker, fatherly advice here. I know I’m an optimist, but there’s something I’ve learned in life. Your gut doesn’t lie. And juice doesn’t lie either. You just know your juice when you have it. I thought my juice was just the law, until Nancy came along, and now I have two flavors I can’t wait to wake up and drink—the law, and my wife.” He winks at me.
I look at my dad, and our conversation brings me a little peace, unlike how Mom’s words ripped at me. I’ve always respected my dad, and he’s a well-liked man. He’s happy, and I can’t help but aspire to be like him.
He continues, “And what your mother said about Aspen… from what I know, and I know many people in town… Aspen is nothing but a hard worker. She’s honest. Sure, she has goals and passions. She’s driven. Ambitious. That’s a good trait in a person. It’s your job to show her she doesn’t have to pursue her goals and passions alone. Just because her mother had problems doesn’t mean she will.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I might have fucked things up bad this time.”
“Well, you’ll figure it out. Anyway, sorry I haven’t been in to see you all afternoon. It’s good to see you burning the midnight oil. I told you this stuff was interesting. Don’t stay too late.”
Once Dad leaves my office, I sit down and lean back in my chair. I grab my black journal and start sketching as I think about what he said. Both my gut and my heart want to believe him. The way he described being in a good relationship—feeling the juice—is exactly how I felt with Aspen. And when Mom said all those things about her, it felt wrong, but I let it rule my brain.
Fuck, I was so stupid to listen to her.
Maybe my jealousy didn’t even have anything to do with those other men. Maybe I was jealous of Aspen spending more time focused on her dream than on me. Maybe it’s because she has a passion for something, and she’s going after it. And that’s exactly what’s missing in my life.
Maybe I’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe my vision has been clouded. So many realizations are hitting me, and I need to organize my thoughts. My sketches turn to writing, and new thoughts shine over me like the sun dawning over a new day.
For starters, I know Aspen is a beautiful woman. Men will always flirt with her. That’s not a threat, it’s just proof that she’s beautiful. If she’s with me, it’s proof of how lucky I am to have her. To know that other men want what only I possess. I should have been by her side the whole night. Helping her, supporting her dreams, instead of being a jealous asswipe.
I also see for the first time how I was jealous of her admirable focus and passion for something. The fact that I don’t possess these is not a mark against her, it’s a mark against me. I shouldn’t blame her, I should fix my own shit and stop being a goddamn baby.
Tough love, I tell myself.
As I ponder these days working for Dad, and how much I’ve enjoyed it, I know there’s room in my life for both of these new passions I’m starting to… get juiced about: Aspen and law. I chuckle. I guess I do have passions and direction.
I lean back in my chair. If I could just convince her that there’s room in her life for me, too. How I want to support her dreams. She doesn’t have to go it alone. I want her to succeed. I want to make her success one of my priorities.
But, how am I going to apologize and get her to understand? Just as I was making my way into her life, succeeding, I fucking threw it all away.
For Christ’s sake, she even wore that cherry-red dress for me.
For me!
God damn, I’m an idiot!
Then it hits me.
Cherries!
She said she was going to the Cherry Festival this weekend.
Things line up in my mind like dominos. I need to talk to her. I need to be with her, away from the restaurant, where she isn’t distracted. But she’s so mad at me. I don’t care. I’ve got to get to the Cherry Festival!
I open the browser on my phone and search Google to see what it’s about. Shit. It’s a freaking ginormous festival, with a half a million people every summer. How am I going to find her in half a million people? Well, fuck it, I’m going. First, I need a place to stay. I’ll figure out how to find her there later.
I’m late to the game. Everything is booked. But I’m not giving up. I switch tactics, and I search for a bed-and-breakfast. I spend another half hour digging around and making calls, when I finally find a room at a log cabin bed-and-breakfast, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. Perfect.
The tide turns in my favor with a win, and with Dad’s words fresh in my mind, and my heart’s desire for Aspen shaking my bones, I am more determined than ever to make that woman mine. I will make her see we’re meant to be together.
Next challenge… I need to figure out how to find her in a sea of thousands of people.
I have to go see her Popster tomorrow morning. He’ll know what to do.
First thing in the morning, I walk into Gabby’s Rooster and see Popster in his booth. I stride straight over to him, and I’m glad to see he’s there so early.
I slide into the booth across from him. “Hey, Emerson, good to see you. I have a favor to ask.”
He puts down his paper. “What can I do for you?”
“I know Aspen went to the Cherry Festival, and I need to find her. I want to talk to her.”
“We’ve been through this, Ryker,” he whispers, and his eyes dart to the kitchen to see if Gabby can hear. “Don’t say anything to her. We’re not ready yet. Wait until she’s got The Rose up and running.” He takes a sip of his coffee, eyeing me over the rim.
I wave my hand, dismissing his concerns. “I know, I know. That’s not what I want to tell her. I have to talk to her about a couple other things. Do you have any idea how I might find her there? I understand it’s a pretty big festival.”
“Oh. For that, you wanna ask Gabby. She’s been there a couple of times with Aspen.”
“Thanks, Emerson,” I say and slide out of the booth.
He picks up his paper and continues reading it, giving me a knowing “uh-huh” as I head to the kitchen.
I walk in and see Gabby. Her back is to me as she cooks a giant skillet of bacon. “Excuse me, Gabby? Good morning.” She turns around and smiles at me.
“Hi, Ryker. Aspen’s not here. She headed to the Cherry Festival.”
“I know,” I say and smile back. “That’s why I’m here.” I know Aspen’s close with her mom, so I decide to be honest and direct. “I upset Aspen the other night, and I need to apologize. I want to go to the Cherry Festival and find her. But I have no idea where to look. Can you help me?”
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment. “You know, Ryker, Aspen hasn’t said a lot to me about you, but every time she does, her face lights up somethin’ special.”
Hm. I guess she didn’t tell her mom what happened.
She turns back to stir her bacon. “So, you say you messed up, huh? Well, I gotta tell ya. I’m on Team Ryker, so I’m going to help you out.”
24
Aspen
The weather is pure golden sunshine and clear blue skies, as I bounce around the attractions and activities at the Cherry Festival. There are so many things I want to do, and for the first time in months, I’m taking calm, deep breaths. I’ve accomplished so much, and I finally have my bed-and-breakfast. I’m continuing the celebration here, in this amazing lakefront beach town with cherry orchards everywhere. I’m in cherry heaven.
It’s hard t
o be sad here.
Even if I am alone.
I’ve gotten used to my own company. And being at the Cherry Capital of the World all by myself suits me just fine. I can do the things I like best, like the cherry pit-spitting contest, the parade, and the cherry wine tents. After checking out the concerts, I’ll top off my night on the rooftop bar of Hotel Indigo, where I’m staying. I love having a drink and overlooking the Grand Traverse Bay, with all the sailboats.
I check into my room, which I reserved six months ago. I intend to make the most of the next twenty-four hours, as this is the last time I’m going to let loose and party for a long time. Come Monday, I’ll start a schedule of 16-hour days until we open The Rose. I freshen up and change into a red sundress, hoping it keeps me cool enough under the sun. I slather on sunblock and put on my sun hat.
I go into the bathroom and add my red lipstick. I check out my reflection, and happy with what I see, I use the toilet, grab a bottle of water, and sling my small purse across my chest. Time to go!
Six hours later, tired from the walking, the sun, and my excitement from running around the festival, I say goodbye to the Uber driver who drops me off at my hotel. I smile and think about how I accomplished everything on my Cherry Festival list, including buying five pounds of dried cherries and three bottles of cherry wine.
I take my treasures to my room and place them on the dresser. Then, I throw my hat in the closet and flop onto my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I tried not to think about Ryker, but he still popped into my head constantly. I miss him. I guess time will heal that. And beer. I step into the bathroom to freshen up before heading up to the rooftop bar.
I’m standing by the railing of the rooftop bar, drinking a Traverse City Cherry Wheat beer, as the sun, a ball of golden fire, sets over the bay.
“Hey,” a man says as he steps up next to me.
I turn to face him. He’s young, maybe early 30s, and good-looking with inky black hair, eyes like blue topaz, and tan skin. Tattoos, too.
“Hi,” I say and smile back.
“My name is Zak. I saw you in the cherry pit-spitting contest. Nice job. I thought for sure you were gonna win,” he says and laughs.
I laugh with him. “I know, I almost had it in the bag, but that old lady with the missing teeth beat me.” I hold my hand out to shake his. “My name is Aspen.”
“Where ya from?” he asks, and I turn back to the railing to keep enjoying the sunset.
“Dixie Holly,” I reply. “You?”
“I’m from ‘round here. A local.”
“Aspen.” Another male voice says from behind me. Not believing my ears, I whip around to see who it is.
“Ryker,” I whisper and swallow. My pulse quickens as I look into his eyes, and we stare at each other.
“Ahem,” Zak clears his throat. “Well, Aspen, it was nice meeting you. If there’s anything you need while in town, I work here. I’m happy to help.”
I blink, having already forgotten Zak, then I turn to reply. “Um, OK. Thanks. Nice meeting you.” He turns and walks away.
Ryker steps forward, and he’s right in front of me. His masculine scent hits my nose. I close my eyes and inhale sharply, holding it in my lungs, and then I let it out. When I open my eyes, I turn back to the view of the bay. The sun is lower and reflecting off the water like a million tiny diamonds, and I’m distracted by the beauty before me.
“What are you doing here?” My stomach twists, my skin tingles, and my heart hopes.
“I’m here to apologize,” he says, and he moves to stand next to me, looking at the diamonds, too.
My heart skips a beat, but my brain tightens the reins. He hurt you once, already. Don’t let it happen again.
“You drove over two hours to apologize?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I don’t say anything.
“Aspen?” he asks, his voice low.
He grabs my hand, and the electric sensation shoots through my arm and into my heart. I turn to him and gently extract my hand from his. It’s not OK for him to touch me right now. But he did get me to face him, and he is a sight to behold. He’s wearing a dark purple polo shirt that makes his green eyes shine bright with a bluish hue, and his navy-blue cargo shorts hang on his waist, tempting me to run my fingers under the waistband. I now know what’s under those shorts, hanging proudly between his legs. I swallow.
“I have a lot to apologize for. I’m sorry for what I said after making love with you.”
My heart stops. He said making love.
He continues, “I’m sorry for being a jealous asshole at the auction.” He shifts his stance and steps closer. “I’m sorry I accused you of flirting when you were just networking.”
I narrow my eyes at him and take a drink of my beer.
“Aspen, I’m sorry for it all. I wish I could rewind to the night of the auction, but I can’t. I was so wrong, and everything about you is so right. I’m falling for you, and I got scared.” He shrugs and smiles.
I hold his gaze, and three heartbeats pass. He came all this way…
My body warms, but my nerves sense danger if I let this continue.
I turn back to the water. I have to stop looking at him, so I can stay strong. Then, my voice firm but soft, I reply, “OK. I accept your apology.” But I don’t face him. He gives me time, and he looks out at the water, scratching at a fleck of chipped paint on the rail. We stand there for a couple minutes as the silence settles between us, heavy and unsure.
When he realizes I’m not going to say more, he turns back to face me. “That’s it?” he asks, his voice gaining strength.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Aspen, I said I’m sorry.”
“I heard you. I accepted your apology. Did you think it’d mean I’d jump back into bed with you? You hurt me. I gave myself to you, and you crushed me. I forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“Asp…” he starts, and I cut him off.
“So, why did you turn all Jekyll and Hyde on me?” I ask.
He bites his lip, and his eyes dart to the left.
“Ryker, what?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” he says and grimaces sheepishly. “I mean, I will, but I’m not proud of it.”
My gut twists. “What?”
The screeching cries of gulls overhead make him pause for a moment, and I fix my stare on him, waiting.
“I was mad at the auction. I was jealous. You know that. Well, my mom cornered me and started filling my head with shit about you. And I was pissed, so I listened.”
The color drains out of my face. “Your mother? What the hell?”
“She’s not a fan of yours. I’m sure you can guess why.”
“No, I can’t guess why!” I screech and then turn to see if anyone heard me. I lower my voice. “Why? Because of high school?”
“Yes.”
“For fuck’s sake, that wasn’t my fault! She’s the one who cheated on your dad!” Now I’m pissed myself. My head pounds, and my skin turns icy, despite the warm summer air.
The live music begins playing, making us raise our voices. Which is fine by me because I feel like shouting.
“I know! Aspen. It was totally fucked up and wrong of her. But, please understand, ever since I made all my money, people have been coming out of the woodwork asking me for it.”
“I DIDN’T!”
Damn him! I liked Ryker so much. I was letting him into my heart, and all of this ugly stuff is coming up, making me dizzy with regret.
“I know! Fuck. I’m sorry!” He looks at me and I step back. “I’m so very sorry,” he repeats.
“I’m gonna go. I’m sorry you drove all this way.” I turn to leave, and before he can grab my hand to stop me, I slip between the metal tables and chairs, making my way to the stairs. I run down them, and just as I get to the bottom, I hear him running after me.
25
Aspen
“Aspen, wait!”
I turn to stop. �
��What, Ryker? This is all just getting uglier. Your mother hates me! Jeezus! We don’t have a chance. And it’s just as well. Like I’ve said, I’m busy, and I’m about to be a whole lot busier starting in two days.” I start walking again and head into the hotel lobby toward the elevators. I push the button, and he comes and stands next to me, side to side, not saying anything. Now, he’s trying to make me laugh. Jekyll and Hyde.
I ignore him. The elevator doors open, and he glances at me.
I step inside. He steps inside, too.
He turns to me, but I don’t look him.
“Aspen,” he whispers when we’re inside the elevator. “I’m not letting you go again.” And images of making love with him flash into my mind. How right it felt. The beauty. The passion.
Ding! The elevator door opens, and I exit the elevator, with him keeping pace. I almost want to laugh, but I’m still confused, and I have no idea what I’m going to do.
I stop in front of my room and fumble with the key card as I try to get it in the slot. That’s when I notice my hands are trembling. He gently takes the card from my hands and says, “Here, let me help.” I look into his eyes, and they say even more than his words. He leans his forehead down to mine, and I can’t turn away. I don’t want to. There’s something between us, pulling me to him.
He brings his lips gently to mine. Softly. He kisses me, and his arms wrap around my waist. “I’m not letting you go this time,” he says again and kisses me harder. His lips are like satin; his mouth, rich dark honey. I let him in. I can’t help it. I’m breathless under his spell.
He lifts his lips from mine long enough to help me with the key card, and we kiss our way into the hotel room.
Once inside the room, we step slowly, keeping our lips locked and our arms wrapped around one another. This time, it isn’t a frenzy of desire—it’s a slow, deep fire, burning like the core of the earth. Cherishing each other. A feeling of peace weighs in the marrow of my bones.
