Chapter One Noah #2
He got half the hockey career I did, and I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel guilt over that sometimes. Not that his exit was my fault, but still. Hockey is like that. You might be opponents on the ice, but off it, you’re family. Your heart always hurts for your family.
“Running Stick Taps while Noah rebuilds the barn and a new chicken coop so that Toots can’t escape anymore.”
Ezra grunts. “Nothing’s going to hold that old bird down. New coop or not, she’ll find a way to escape. She always does.”
I point to my business partner. “For the record, I agree with him.”
“Why are you rebuilding the barn and building a new coop? I mean, not that I’m complaining. That barn has been on your to-do list forever, and we both know we need a new way to contain Toots.”
“For my wedding,” Izzy proudly announces.
Ezra’s brows lift, his dark-green eyes shooting my way. “She’s getting married here?”
“No.” I glare at Izzy, who looks unbothered as she pops another cashew into her mouth. “She’s not. She asked, but I told her no.”
“You did?”
Ezra sounds surprised by this, which is fair given my history of always telling Izzy yes, no matter how ludicrous her requests are.
Like when I was roped into being her duet partner for the town’s talent show at the last minute because her fiancé had food poisoning.
Singing Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” with your sister was just as awkward as one can imagine, but the town took such pity on us that we got first.
My trophy sits on top of the fireplace on the other side of the cidery.
“I did, and I am sticking to that. We aren’t a wedding venue.”
Ezra nods a few times, then says, “We could be.”
Now it’s my turn to look surprised. “What?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it would make sense, yeah? We certainly have the space. The east pasture isn’t being used, but it would make a great photo op with the mountains and shit.
Plus, you’re handy.” He taps the bar I custom made when we couldn’t find what we were looking for as we built the taproom.
“Fixing up the old barn should be a breeze. We could rent it out and make a killing. A new coop for Toots is an easy fix, too, and a win-win for us. We could turn this place into a one-stop destination—ceremony, reception, and booze. Rake in the cash so we can use it for future ventures. It’s a solid business decision. ”
Future ventures.
I know exactly what he means by that. He’s talking about our late-night planning sessions on opening an ice rink. Hockey gave us both a life we could have never imagined. We want to give back to it, even if it’s just in our small Pacific Northwest town.
While that extra money would be nice, I still stare at him, mouth agape.
“You can’t be serious.” I toss the rag into the bin and set the now extra-clean glass back where it goes. I fold my arms over my chest and watch my partner closely.
But Ezra doesn’t crack a smile—not that he does often anyway—or tell me he’s kidding.
He means it.
I raise my brows. “How can you, of all people, want to open this place up as the ultimate wedding destination?”
There’s no hiding the disgust in my voice, but if anyone shares my disdain for relationships, it’s him. Ezra is just as anti-marriage as I am. It’s why we work so well together and gravitated toward one another when we did.
I was fresh off a divorce and leaving the game I knew and loved my entire life, and he was fresh out of his long-term relationship with physical therapy. We were a match made in grumpy heaven.
“Money.”
He says it so simply, and, fuck, I guess it is that simple.
I think back to the plans I made four years ago when I decided to start my own business.
I was still playing hockey, but I knew my time in the league was winding down.
As much as I loved playing, I was aging out and slowing down in every aspect of my game.
It was just a matter of time before the offers stopped coming in.
I wanted to be ready once they did. I didn’t want to be that retired player who didn’t have a clue how to navigate the world beyond hockey or spends his time at the rink shooting the shit and reminiscing on the good old days. I wanted to do something.
So I dreamed up Stick Taps.
One of my favorite things about being on the road so often was trying new beer and cider from all over North America.
While most guys were chilling in fancy restaurants or hitting clubs, I was off in my own little world, hanging at local breweries and cideries and trying everything I could get my hands on.
I found comfort in them. Found a peace and sense of belonging that I wasn’t getting with hockey anymore, not with the younger crowd coming in and the game getting away from me.
Lucky for me, Ezra wanted the same thing and immediately jumped in on investing and taking over the numbers side of it all, having recently completed a degree in business management.
A dinner and a handshake later, Stick Taps was officially born.
That was three years ago, and while we’re doing well and turning a damn good profit, I still want more.
I guess Ezra does too.
“See?” Izzy says. “This was a good idea! And you can kick off your new venture by hosting my wedding and show this town what they’d be getting by booking their next event here. Just say yes, big brother.”
She bats her lashes at me again, and dammit, if that, paired with Ezra being on board, doesn’t crack my walls.
The odds are stacked against me now, and I fear I don’t have a choice.
I’m still not sure we’re the right match for it, and I have no fucking clue if we can pull this off, but what else do we have to lose?
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Fine. Fine. You can have the wedding here.”
“Oh my gosh! I can’t wait. We have so many ideas. We—”
“But,” I cut off my sister’s celebration, “the only thing I’m doing is helping restore the old barn. That’s it. I’m not moving anything inside the cidery, and we’re not doing anything else to the land. The barn, and that’s it.”
“And the coop for Tootsie,” Ezra says, his fingers flying over his keyboard, probably already calculating potential profits and whatever other shit he’s always doing behind the scenes.
Those are our roles, though—he handles the numbers and business side of things, like making sure we’re on schedule with our products and that apple shipments are never behind.
I handle the farm, taproom, and all the activities we host. “If we’re going to have big crowds here, we can’t have her running all over the place. ”
“And Toots. I’ll figure out something for her.”
“Are you sure?” Izzy asks, chewing on her bottom lip, picking up on my apprehension. “I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to, Noah.”
Bullshit. We both know she would.
And fuck no, I’m not sure. I still don’t want to do this. But if it makes Izzy happy . . .
“I’m sure,” I tell her.
“Excellent.” She gives me a saccharine smile, reaching for her phone with a joyful shoulder shake.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Odette.”
I try not to react to the name that sends a shiver down my spine. I try not to let it show that Odette is the last person I want my sister to call.
“How lucky am I that my best friend is a wedding planner?” Izzy says, bringing the phone to her ear.
Yeah, she’s lucky, all right.
Me? Not so much.
Odette Chambers is the last person I want to see. Not because I don’t like her, but maybe because I notice her a bit too much, and I really fucking shouldn’t.
She and Izzy have been inseparable since high school, and I was already well into my hockey career then, so I’ve only truly gotten to know her since I moved back here. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t at all.
She’s twelve years younger than me and completely off-limits, but it’s hard as fuck to ignore how gorgeous she is with her soft-looking midnight waves and curves that go on for days, and the way she pushes all my buttons.
I bet she’s behind this. I’m willing to toss down a hundred bucks on them scheming this together, trying to get me to turn this place into a wedding venue.
It has Odette written all over it, and not just because she’s a wedding planner.
She came to me last year asking me to host a wedding here, and I told her no.
She didn’t ask again after telling me off—which is precisely what I expected from her since she’s been full of sass for as long as I’ve known her.
But now that Izzy’s getting married . . . I’m certain this is the opportunity she was waiting for, and now she’s ready to pounce. And I played right into her hands.
“She’s going to be so happy. There’s so much to work with here.”
I drop my head back and groan, wondering just what it is I’ve gotten myself into.