Chapter Ten Odette
Chapter Ten
Odette
I’ve been cranky, and it has everything to do with Noah announcing to all of Stick Taps that I’m like a sister to him.
But I think Pork is healing me.
The cute kitten lets out a big yawn as he sleeps on his back in my lap. Beans will be so mad when I come home smelling like another cat, but I don’t care. The scene before me is worth it.
“How can you not love this adorable little fella?” I run a finger down his tummy, and he shudders like it tickles.
“Because I have a heart of stone, and there’s no use getting attached to it, because I’m not keeping it.”
I gasp. “What do you mean you’re not keeping Pork?”
“I mean, I’m not keeping him. End of discussion.” He sighs. “Are you going to help me at all today or sit there and play with the damn cat that is most definitely finding a new home as soon as possible?”
I haven’t been playing with the cat all day.
Just most of the day. Since lunch, at least, and that was a few hours ago at this point.
I likely could have left a long time ago, especially since I have a few vendors I need to call, but I didn’t want Pork to be alone.
And honestly, I didn’t want to be alone either.
Even though it’s a Friday, I don’t have much else going on at the moment except planning Izzy’s wedding, and we’re meeting to work on that more tomorrow.
“I’ll take the second option, please.”
“Then leave. You’re in the way.”
“Yes, I’m so in the way, just sitting here on a stool and minding my own business.”
“You’re right, you are.”
I ignore him, then go back to rubbing Pork’s belly. I giggle at that.
“What?” Noah asks with a grunt, pulling his hammer back in a way that shouldn’t be even remotely hot, yet definitely is.
Noah’s comment about his sibling-like feelings toward me were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing any flame I held for him. It doesn’t mean my body doesn’t react to seeing him work. Watching him sling lumber around all day or swing heavy hammers like they weigh nothing.
Just like he is now.
I roll my tongue over my lips as he takes another whack at the board, the muscles in his biceps flexing with the movement.
“Odette?”
I snap my eyes to him, hoping he didn’t just notice what a trance he had me in. “What?”
“That’s what I want to know. You just giggled. What’s so funny?”
“Oh. Um . . .” Shit. What was I just thinking about other than Noah’s incredibly sculpted body? “Pork belly!”
He pulls a face. “What?”
“I was running my finger over Pork’s belly, and it reminded me of pork belly. Do you think Peaches names all her kittens after food? Is that like a thing because she’s named after food?”
Noah just raises his eyebrows in response.
I throw my hands into the air. “I don’t know. I thought it was funny, and I’m bored.”
“Again, you’re free to go home.”
“Really? You don’t need any more help today?”
“Actually, he does.”
We both turn to find Ezra strolling into the barn. His gait is stuttered as he strides toward us.
He didn’t grow up here like Noah did, but everyone’s embraced him as one of our own, which means we all know about the injury that knocked him out of hockey and left him with a slight limp. But I haven’t seen him walking this stiffly in some time.
“Sophie’s grandma fell and is in the hospital. I let her go to deal with that,” he says, wincing in pain as he comes to a stop before us. “But our bartender needing to leave isn’t the problem. We have a storm rolling in.”
“We do?” I look to Noah. “We do?”
“I heard rumblings, but I hoped they would die out by now.”
“Sorry to deliver the bad news, but it’s getting worse, not clearing up. They’re calling for high winds with gusts over sixty miles an hour. Heavy rain too. Not this pissing rain shit we’re used to.”
“Fuck,” Noah says. “Shit. All right. Fine. Well, you can handle the taproom while I—”
“Can’t,” Ezra interjects. He points to his hip. “Got that doctor’s appointment over in Seattle, remember? I can’t miss it. I’d call up one of the production guys to take over while I’m out, but they’re—”
“Not here. It’s the last Friday of the month. Shit.”
“What’s the last Friday of the month?” I ask.
“We give the production team the day off because they have to pull Saturday shifts sometimes to meet demands,” Ezra explains. “It’s our way of rewarding them for all their hard work.”
That’s nice of them. Unfortunate for situations like this, but still nice.
The guys exchange a look of understanding.
Noah nods. “All right. Then I guess it is what it is, and I’ll assess the damage after the storm. This might all be for nothing”—he taps the new piece of wood he just installed—“but oh well.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “We aren’t losing all our hard work.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Me.”
“You?” He laughs. “Uh, no.”
I tip my chin up. “Why not?”
“For starters, you’ve never worked in a taproom before.”
“No, but is it really that hard? People order; I pour. I take their money. How difficult can that be?”
He rolls his lips into a flat line, looking every bit like he wants to argue.
I’m surprised when he says, “Yeah, I guess it’s not that hard.”
“Good. It’s settled, then. Odette, you’re officially in charge,” Ezra says.
“You hear that, Noah? I’m in charge.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose—the same one still bearing a mark from his bathroom door—like he’s utterly exhausted by me. “Just go inside, Odie.”
“Be nice. She’s doing us a favor. A favor we appreciate, Odette,” he says pointedly to Noah.
Ezra’s kindness shocks me. Not that he’s ever been outright mean before, but he’s even grumpier than his business partner most days. I’m not used to this side of him.
“Of course. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing much just sitting here, anyway.”
Carefully I lift Pork, loving the beautiful green as he peers up at me with tired eyes. “I’m sorry, little buddy,” I say to him. “Hang out in this box while I go to work, okay? I’ll check on you later, but it’s work time now.”
I drop him into a giant cardboard box—something left over from an earlier delivery—that I’ve turned into his room for the day. Inside is a towel for him to curl up on and some food I had in my car. I’ve been meaning to take it inside for Beans, but thank gosh for my chaotic brain, huh?
“You know where to find me if you need anything,” I say, then head for the cidery.
From behind me, I hear the guys still talking.
“Where the hell did that cat come from?” Ezra gasps. “Oh shit. You’ve been Peached, haven’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ezra,” Noah grumbles.
I laugh the rest of the way to the taproom.
The taproom is dead.
And by dead, I mean we’ve had all of two customers the entire time I’ve been in here. While this place is usually hopping unless something big is happening in the harbor, I’m not surprised with the incoming storm.
I’ve tried distracting myself with rearranging the taproom—moving a few tables here and fussing with some decor there—but I’m still bored.
Which means I’ve been spending far too much time paying attention to Noah as he moves around the farm, trying to get everything ready for the storm that’s about to hit at any time.
When the clock strikes five, and I haven’t seen a single soul for forty-five minutes, I decide to call it a day and venture outside in search of him.
I find him at the pond, hands on his hips and looking entirely too damn good from behind.
His strong shoulders stretch his plain black shirt impossibly tight, and the wind whips his hair around like a model on a book cover.
“Listen here, Larry, you will get your little ass out of the pond, or I’m going in after you. Those are your choices. Either way, you’re coming inside.”
What the . . .
I walk closer and am surprised to find he’s not talking to himself—he’s talking to a duck.
Quack.
“I am being serious, Larry.” Noah grabs the hem of his shirt as if to pull it over his head.
Quack.
“I mean it.” He drags it up, exposing tanned skin that looks soft and hard all at the same time.
All I can do is stand there and think, Don’t listen to him, Larry. Make him go after you.
Quack.
“I swear, I’ll come in after you.”
Do it, do it, do it, I chant in my head.
Quack.
But a dip in the pond isn’t necessary, because Larry comes waddling out and goes straight to Noah.
He bends, running a hand over the back of the duck. “Fucking hell, Larry. You’re a stubborn woman, you know that?”
Woman? I did not see that coming.
“But that’s okay. My life is full of stubborn women, so I know how to handle them.” He looks up and out at the dark clouds rolling in. “Even that obstinate . . . gorgeous Odette.”
Gorgeous.
He just called me gorgeous.
Sure, he said I was obstinate first, but still. Noah Stevens thinks I’m gorgeous.
The teenager inside me likes that far too much. But the full-grown woman version of me? Oh, who am I kidding? She likes it too.
I clear my throat, and Noah whirls around. The second he realizes it’s me, his brows pull low as he shoves to his feet.
“What are you doing out here? Who’s in the taproom?”
I shrug. “Nobody.”
“What the hell? You can’t just leave the customers in there to go wild. You can’t—”
“I mean literally nobody,” I cut off his ranting. “Not a single soul has been in for over an hour, so I made an executive decision and shut down shop.”
“You can only make executive decisions if you’re actually in charge. Which you aren’t, in case you were wondering.”
“I believe Ezra’s exact words to me were You’re officially in charge. So that made me the boss, and, as the boss, I called it a day.” I point at the sky, which I swear has grown darker in the last minute. “I think everyone’s prepping for the storm, not worried about getting cider.”
“You don’t know that. People usually come to fill their growlers. Something to do when we inevitably lose power.”
“If we lose power. We don’t know that we will.”