“No, I didn’t get any email about him.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I clear my throat. “It must’ve went to junk or got lost in cyberspace. Who is he?”
“He’s a retired billionaire with experience turning around failing businesses. I met him at a fundraiser and told him about Summerdale. He wanted somewhere to lie low and chill. Anyway, I might’ve mentioned that The Horseman Inn needs help.” At my stunned silence, she goes on in a rush. “Don’t be mad, okay? You refused to accept a loan from me, which I get because we’re friends, but I couldn’t just do nothing. He could help you.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you slapped your ass at him.”
I stare at her. “But he’s so young to be a retired billionaire.”
“I know. He’s one of those tech whiz guys. Made his first million at nineteen. He’s thirty now.”
I slowly turn to meet the knowing, smirky eyes of retired billionaire Wyatt “the Wart” Winters. He grins and gives me a jaunty two-finger salute, probably because he knows Harper just explained who he is. Mr. Big Shot.
I scowl. I will never work with that man. I don’t care how many zeroes are in his bank account or what kind of business guru he is. He wants a piece of The Horseman Inn? Hell no!
2
I retreat behind the bar and get started on a margarita. I don’t need Wyatt Winters. I have a marketing background. Once I get out of debt, then I’ll be able to focus on marketing to draw people from neighboring towns, and that will revitalize the place. I know it can still be a success. Though, if tonight’s fundraiser isn’t a success, I sure as hell need some kind of bailout.
I keep myself busy filling drink orders, but my mind keeps cranking over every insult Wart delivered in the past month and what I wish I could’ve said. Being in the restaurant business, you just can’t lay into rude customers, no matter how much they deserve it. All things considered, I held my temper admirably until tonight.
“Hey, Sydney.”
I look up at Garrett’s warm voice. Harper’s fiancé is a beast of a man with plenty of muscle and a heart of gold. Seriously, he drove all the way from Brooklyn a few days ago to fix some stuff in the restaurant’s kitchen for me and refused to take payment.
“Hey, Garrett,” I say, giving him an affectionate punch on the shoulder. “What can I get you?”
He grabs one of the menus, scans it, and then orders an ale. That’s the ale Wart wanted earlier. I’m instantly suspicious he’s going to take it to Wart, but I don’t want to say anything in case it’s actually for Garrett. He fixed a leaking dishwasher and an exhaust fan that was on its last legs, making a weird grinding noise. Garrett can do just about anything in construction, that’s his main job, and he’s getting some acting gigs on the side now. Now why couldn’t I meet someone fun, interesting, and competent like that? Why does Wart have to be the only single option around? He’s so irritatingly gorgeous too with those warm light brown eyes—whiskey eyes—and the beard. That big muscular body. My pulse got crazy when we got close.
This is terrible. I’m involuntarily drawn to him. I should see a shrink or something.
I hand over the glass of ale to Garrett, restraining myself from ordering him not to give it to Wart. “Here you go.”
He flashes a smile. “Thanks.” He reaches for his wallet.
“On the house for your help fixing stuff for me.”
He shakes his head. “I like fixing stuff.” He leaves a twenty on the bar and walks away.
“Thanks again,” I call. “I owe you.”
He waves over his shoulder, like it’s nothing. What a great guy.
I tell myself not to look, but I can’t help it. My eyes are glued to Garrett as he makes his way back to Wart’s table. Dammit! I knew it! He slides the ale over to Wart, who immediately lifts it in a gloating toast to me.
I clench my teeth, my entire face heating with anger.
Wyatt takes a sip of ale and makes an exaggerated grimace. “Do the locals like this watered-down stuff?” His voice carries all the way to me, as I’m sure was his intention.
I throw up my middle finger, and then it doesn’t feel like enough, so I add the other in a double fuck you salute.
He throws his head back and laughs.
I silently seethe until I’m elbowed by my bartender, Betsy. Apparently, I’m in her way, having a quiet fit behind the bar.
I go back to work, frequently checking on the action around Harper and steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Wart. She’s sitting at her reserved table, signing autographs on New Year’s Eve flyers from tonight’s event, and taking selfies with customers.
After a large crowd leaves her table, I dash over to check in with her. “What can I get you to drink, Harp? Anything you want, on the house.”
She smiles. “Water would be great.”
“Just water?”
She gives my shoulder a tug, pulling me closer to whisper, “I’m pregnant.”
I squeal and hug her. “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”
Jenna and Audrey join us, both of them wearing glittery tiaras and cute black dresses. “What’s all this squealing about?” Jenna asks.
“I told you not to fangirl over Harper,” Audrey says to me. “She’s still one of us.”
Harper whispers the news to them.
“That is squeal-worthy,” Jenna says with a laugh, hugging Harper.
Audrey hugs her next. “Congratulations!” She pulls back, looking concerned. “How did your grandmother take it?”
Harper was raised by her tough grandmother, who might not approve of a pregnancy before the wedding. We secretly call her General Joan. Once in a while, the General comes in here for an early dinner, and I always find myself stiff with shoulders back, spine straight. She never had a problem ordering Harper’s friends around, same as Harp. I guess that means she loves us too.
Harper beams. “Surprisingly understanding and supportive. We had a good talk.” She hitches a thumb at Garrett, who just joined us. “It helps that the General loves him.”
“What’s your secret?” Jenna asks Garrett. “We were all scared of her as girls. Half the time she put us to work.”
Audrey shakes her head. “We never wanted to hang at Harper’s house. No offense, Harp.”
“That was probably her plan all along,” Harper says. “Not to have to clean up after four girls.”
“She put me to work too,” Garrett says with a smile. “I don’t mind helping out.”
We all stare at him.
“Now I feel so lazy,” I quip.
Everyone laughs.
“It’s really hopping now, Syd,” Harper says.
I nod. “They’re here for you.” There’s about fifty people here now. Normally, there’s a dozen or less.
A couple in their thirties approaches, asking for her autograph. Harper smiles. “Happy to.”
Jenna pulls me toward the bar. “Let’s get some of those peppermintinis.” It’s a special peppermint martini just for the holidays.
I head back toward the bar with Jenna and Audrey, passing my oldest brother, Drew, on the way. He’s acting strange, just standing there, a beer in hand, not responding in any way to my brother Caleb, who’s speaking animatedly to him. Drew’s eyes lock on Audrey.
I watch Audrey as I head behind the bar. She’s carefully avoiding looking at Drew. Even stranger. Normally, she’d say hello and smile. Audrey has had a thing for Drew since we were kids. She emailed him regularly through his military deployments, but never told him how she felt. Did something happen between them recently? Audrey isn’t the kind to broadcast every little thing, even to her friends, especially if it’s a sensitive topic.
Audrey walks stiffly past Drew, head held high. He just stares, his expression shuttered.
She and Jenna take a seat at the bar, a short distance from Drew. I’m sure if there were any other seats available, Audrey would’ve dashed for them.
I lean over the bar toward Audrey. “Peppermintini?”
&nb
sp; “Sure,” she says distractedly, staring off in the distance. I always think Audrey has a lot more in her head than what comes out of her mouth.
I get started on my friends’ peppermintinis, glancing over at Drew. He stares at his beer, lifts his head, and gives Caleb a clap on the shoulder.
“Looks like everyone’s keeping Harper busy,” Jenna says, reaching up to check her glittery tiara and smoothing her blond hair down.
I give the martini shaker a shake. “Oh, yeah. Everyone mostly wants to hear about her old show Capital Asset.”
“Well, it’s what made her famous.” She turns to Audrey, who’s still staring off in the distance. “You okay?”
“Of course,” Audrey says brightly.
Jenna and I exchange a look. Audrey moved to town in first grade, and we’re as close as sisters, which means we know she’s lying. Something is bothering her, and it has to do with Drew. Did she finally tell him how she feels? If she did, it must not have gone the way she hoped.
I meet Audrey’s blue eyes with a sympathetic look. Jenna gives Audrey’s arm a squeeze.
Audrey twirls a lock of her long black hair, feigning nonchalance. “Stop staring at me. I’m fine. Everything’s okay. Nothing’s new.”
I pour out a martini. Awfully defensive for someone who claims to be just fine. I’ll get it out of her at our next Thursday night book club meeting, which I’ve officially dubbed the Thursday Night Wine Club because who are we kidding?
I slide over the two drinks, refusing payment because they helped me plan this whole night, but Jenna slides a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar anyway, giving me a little air kiss. Audrey follows suit.
A short while later, the buffet is ready in the front room for the main dinner courses. I make sure Harper, Garrett, and her bodyguard, Joe, get their meal delivered to their table before directing the crowd to line up for their meal. Everything’s going as smoothly as I could hope. I go back in the kitchen to check on things and finally give myself a break, taking a seat on a stool in the corner and eating my own dinner of chicken wings, French fries, and carrot sticks.
By the time it’s near midnight, I’m dead tired. Between all of my duties and trying to rein in my temper, it’s been an exhausting night. One last burst of energy to keep up the festive spirit. One, two, three, go!
I hand out Happy New Year sunglasses and party horns to the people sitting at the bar and weave through the crowd in the back room, giving out favors with a smile. When I get to Wart’s table, I give Garrett the favors and skip Wart completely. He clutches his chest like he’s wounded. Garrett looks between us two with a small smile on his face. Has Wart been trash-talking me? He deserves everything I dished out tonight. And I restrained myself too. I didn’t dump a beer on his head, now did I?
I make it back to my friends’ table, where Harper is now sitting. “Happy New Year’s, ladies! May it be our best yet.” I hand out the favors.
Jenna and Audrey put on the New Year’s glasses and blow their horns at me.
Harper surprises me by standing to whisper in my ear, “Syd, I know Wyatt rubbed you the wrong way, but he’s actually a good guy.”
I snort. “Right.”
“Anyway, happy New Year.” She kisses my cheek.
I continue my relentlessly upbeat tour of tables, handing out party favors.
Five minutes before midnight, I flop down in the seat next to Harper and hand her a glass of sparkling water, the pregnant woman’s champagne. “I’m going to count down for the New Year’s toast, unless you’d like to do it.”
“Nah, you’re the star of this show.”
I put my arm around her, and she rests her head on mine. “Thanks for coming, Harp. The auction is doing great. Someone bid a thousand dollars to have lunch with you.”
“Really? Last I saw, it was at a hundred fifty.”
I pull away and grin. “Well, you are Harper Ellis.”
“Stop,” she says.
I sock her on the shoulder and head over to Eli on guitar to let him know he’s off duty. As soon as he leaves his post, I stand on his chair and wave for attention.
Garrett stands and lets out a sharp whistle, and the crowd settles down. He strides over to Harper’s table, and all eyes follow him as he crosses the room. He takes a seat and drops an arm around her shoulders. They’re quite a beautiful couple.
I gesture toward them. “Let’s all give a big round of applause for our hometown star Harper Ellis!”
Polite applause rings out. Harper smiles and waves at everyone. I feel like they could’ve shown more enthusiasm, but don’t want to beg for applause on her behalf.
I continue. “I know you all love The Horseman Inn as much as I do, so I hope you’ll stop by in the new year to check out our new appetizer menu.” Take that, Wart! I was so angry I forgot to use that as a comeback when he criticized our dinner menu. We added five new appetizers. “We’ll be sponsoring a fun trivia night every Friday, starting this Friday, and, ladies, half-price drinks on Thursday nights starting next week!” We’re closed tomorrow for New Year’s Day. It’s pretty dead in town that day, and I wanted to give the staff the day off.
The women applaud and cheer enthusiastically.
“What about the guys?” Wyatt asks. “Which night is half-price drinks for us?” He lifts both palms as if to say you forgot about us poor billionaire guys.
I narrow my eyes.
“Ten seconds!” Harper calls out, saving me from telling Wart off in front of everyone.
“Right,” I say brightly, checking my phone. “Here we go!” I count down at the top of my lungs. “Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” I blow my horn, and then the room erupts in horn blowing.
Except Wart, whom I didn’t give a horn. He does a slow clap, smiling at me, looking positively devilish. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts over the noise of the crowd, “Happy New Year, Cindy!”
“Happy New Year, Wart!”
I join my friends, ignoring his bark of laughter.
3
Wyatt
I’ve been nosing around Sydney Robinson’s business, the oddly named Horseman Inn, at my friend Harper’s urging and came to the conclusion that, while Sydney is incredibly entertaining, she’d be impossible to work with. I could help her out, but let’s face it, her type—hot-tempered and fiery—is great in bed not in business. And I wouldn’t mind if my bed is exactly where she lands.
In the meantime, I can’t seem to help pushing her buttons. She cracks me up. Most people kiss my ass because they want my money. She gestured for me to kiss hers. I look forward to seeing what she’ll come up with next. I am one sick puppy.
Speaking of…
Snowball races to the front window, her paws scrabbling on the sheets covering the original hardwood floors in the fixer-upper I bought. She’s a seven-year-old shih tzu with a mostly white coat and a few tan and dark gray markings. Not a puppy, but with her small size and big black eyes, she still has that puppy appeal. She’s attached to me, so I had to adopt her.
I walk over in my bare feet, following her to the front window, and spot Bill, the mailman, making a trip out here just for me. It’s New Year’s Day, which means the post office is closed. And it’s snowing another layer on top of what we had. I appreciate him coming out here today. Snowball barks urgently—someone has crossed the perimeter of our domain.
“Stand down, Snowball.”
Bill’s tamales were a major selling point for me when Harper first told me about this quirky lakeside community. A mailman who delivers tamales along with the mail. Does it get any better than that? Imagine my disappointment when we first met a month ago and he told me the tamales were only a spring and fall happening. Winter made the tamales cold on arrival, and summer heat destroyed them. We worked out a monthly deal for the off-season. He’s fantastic at what he does. I keep telling him he should open a food truck by the lake.
Snowball quiets, her white eyebrows lifting over big dark eyes as she gives me her desper
ate for food look. Or it could be extreme concern that I told her to stand down when there’s clearly someone on the property. I don’t know. I don’t speak shih tzu. I go with the most important point.
“No, you can’t have any. Tamales are not dog food.”
I head over to the front door, and she trots by my side. My mouth is already watering. This is my second delivery of tamales, and I’ve been thinking about eating them for lunch ever since I woke up.
I scoop Snowball under one arm just before I open the door in advance of Bill’s knock. She’s not used to all the open space here after our Manhattan apartment, and I don’t want her to get lost out there in the snow. I smile at my tamale-delivering pal. “There’s the man of the hour.”
Bill’s cheeks are ruddy from the cold. He’s a middle-aged white guy wearing a gray cap with earflaps and a navy wool coat. When I first heard about the tamales, I’d hoped for a Mexican community here. I love Mexican food, the spicier the better. Nope. Just Bill here cooking up tamales. I’ll be eating these all week and happy to do so.
“Happy New Year, Wyatt. Hello, Snowball.” He hands me a foil-wrapped package of twenty tamales. “Still warm, I hope.”
“Thanks. Feels like it.” Snowball’s nose works double time as she leans toward the package to sniff.
Bill gives her a scratch behind the ears. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”
Snowball leans into his touch, which speaks volumes. She doesn’t like just anyone, and she’ll growl to let them know where they stand in her opinion. She’s a good people barometer.
I hold up the tamales. “I’ve been looking forward to these all day. You want to join me for lunch?”
He smiles, shaking his head. “My wife’s got an early New Year’s Day dinner planned. She won’t be happy if I fill up on tamales. I’d better go. Enjoy.”
“I’m telling you, Bill, a food truck down by the lake, featuring these tamales, would kill it. People would drive from miles around to get these.”
Fetching: A Frenemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 1) Page 2
