Two
two
Rhone
“ H ere’s the route for today.” My brother hands me a printout of a map with hand drawn directions. “You shouldn’t have any problems.”
I fold the page and tuck it into my shirt pocket. “I’ve lived here as long as you have, Steve, and done deliveries before. I know Love Beach.”
“I know, I know. But there’s new stops since you were home last. What with being overseas then messing with your cheese recipes, you wouldn’t know I’ve picked up new customers. You need to get out more, bro.”
“Says the guy who spends most of his time with the livestock.”
He doesn’t join in with my dry chuckle just points toward the door. “Get going. Don’t ruin my record of ‘on-time as promised’ deliveries.”
My sharp salute deepens his frown. Steve is a dour man. Even as a kid he seldom smiled and never appreciated my attempts at making him laugh. I’d hoped when I came home from my latest stint in the air force, he’d lighten up.
Nope. Same ol’ Steve. More concerned with his cows, goats, and whatever else he’s got in his pens. Doesn’t pay much attention to when I come and go but knows exactly when one of his organic feed suppliers has had an accidental overspray from a neighboring farm. That used to bother me and I’d hoped after our parents died, we would form a closer bond.
Didn’t happen. I don’t think he’ll ever change.
I pause at the door. “I’m staying in town tonight.”
“Just make sure to get the truck back in time for deliveries tomorrow. Walt will be back from his vacation and ready to take over.”
“Sure.” Steve doesn’t even care enough to wonder why I bought a house and decided to live in town. Whatever. If our folks hadn’t built the stone-lined cellar that turned out to be the perfect place to age cheese, I wouldn’t have set up my operation in the old farmhand bungalow. Even though I’m here nearly every day, I seldom see my brother except from a distance.
Unless he wants something from me. Like to play delivery driver while his regular guy is off.
This morning’s stops include a handful of private residences, a hotel restaurant, the natural foods store, and the coffee shop on the beach where I grab the largest cup of plain boring coffee they offer. The final stop is a business that’s only been open for a few months. Wondering how a candy store uses my brother’s specialty milks and creams, I park at the back of the building. After double checking the order against the containers remaining in the refrigerated section of the truck, I carry the crate into the store.
I’m met by Choco-Love’s owner, Noah Drake. He notices my curiosity and gives me a brief explanation of how they use Steve’s products while giving me a quick tour of his store. I take mental notes for my future business location—wherever the hell that’s going to be—and admire the easy way the working part of the operation merges into the sales area.
My thought processes stall when I notice the beautiful woman assisting customers at the end of a long display case. All I see is her back, but that’s enough to wake my slumbering libido. I’d started to believe that part of me had died a year ago when she-who-I-refuse-to-name left me.
Long, strawberry blond hair hangs between her shoulder blades from a high ponytail. My fingers twitch with the need to wrap the silky strands in my fist. Below the sweep of her hair her waist curves out to full wide hips. Tight jeans hug her shapely, thick thighs, making my mouth water with the urge to strip them away.
Needing to hear her voice, I take a step closer and jerk to a stop. For me a major rule of retail is that the customer comes first and there’s a line waiting to choose their chocolates.
I’ll come back another time to meet her. As a customer. Then I’ll choose her as my sweet and make sure she comes first.
At that thought, I adjust my stance then turn away. Nodding to Noah, I exit the store. Despite the rise of lust, I’ve got too much to do today to linger so turn the truck toward my home.
Shortly after returning to Love Beach, I purchased a small house on the edge of town. It’s been my haven when Steve goes on one of his tirades or memories from my time overseas threaten to overwhelm me. Today the image of a woman will fill my safe space—and my fantasies. She’ll be here and I haven’t even seen her face yet.
Now I’m not in the mood to get to the farm early tomorrow, so change my direction and drive back to Steve’s. Thank god he’s nowhere in sight when I hang the keys on the designated hook because I just chuck them on there and don’t arrange them in his preferred hanging order—largest against the wall. While making my escape, I catch a glimpse of him near the barn, talking to the pair of hairy highland cows he bought last year. From what I can tell, there isn’t much call for their milk in the area, but the high fat content is good for my cheeses.
Giving a soft snort, I turn from the drive onto the highway. He’s been talking about increasing his ‘herd’ of animals with a yak next. That should be interesting.
Once back home I sit at a small desk in the corner of my cramped living room and add my observations from the stop at Choco-Love and add the page to a pile of my attempts at creating a business plan. I can disparage my brother’s odd collection of animals, but he’s always had a plan. Knows what he wants and how to get there.
I’ve got a number of cheeses finally aged enough to sell but I’m not sure how to proceed. Hell, I haven’t even thought of a business name, let alone named any of the cheeses beyond their basic composition. My dream is to open a storefront, probably in the older part of downtown Love Beach. Something like the chocolate shop would be perfect.
Forcing the memory of the woman to the back of my mind, I gather a few pages of notes and stuff them into a leather folio. My second option is to go with an online business. While that could bring attention to my cheese, it’s not optimal in my opinion. Too many regulations for selling across state lines. I need direction. I need help.
As though fate answered my pleas, there’s a meeting tonight for those interested in starting a business. Pulling up the photo I took of a flyer, I double check the time and location. It won’t take long to get to the bar located off the north end of the boardwalk. I remember the Sandy Sipper from my college days but haven’t been back in years.
The well-kept exterior is at odds with my memory and I wonder how many owners the place has had over the past fifteen years. The interior is still a comfortable neighborhood bar with some modern additions. The flyer indicated the meeting would be on the deck, so I grab a coke at the bar and make my way back outside.
A couple tables have been pushed together to one side and a handful of people mill about as though fearing to commit themselves to the meeting by choosing a seat. I have no time to waste, so I nod to the others as I pass and sit near the head of the table where there’s a double stack of folders.
I always preferred sitting in the front row of my classes. This is no different. I’m here to learn.
A trio of women stand to one side in deep conversation. wear the bar’s logo on sand colored tee shirts, the third, whose back is to me, wears a long, loose sweater over dress slacks. Her movements hold my attention with a strange familiarity. Her hair is pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Because she’s standing in the shadows, I can’t determine the color. Feeling like I should know her, I frown.
Before I have time to search my memory, the three approach the table. Their movements draw the others closer and everyone takes a seat except the sweater-clad woman who stands behind the chair at the head of the table. The patio’s soft, moody lighting highlights her red-blonde hair and as she shifts, her curves peek from under the sweater.
With a grin, she begins. “Hi, everyone. I’m glad you’re here. I’m Tegan Drake. My brother and I opened our small business here in Love Beach six months ago. We’ve been successful, but other businesses that started around the same time, or even later, have failed. The purpose of this meeting is to come together and help each other get your business plans successfully up and running. I’ve got plenty of information to share, but if we continue these meetings, I’m hopeful most of our time, will be spend in discussion as we help each other remain viable assets to the community.”
Her words are a rumbling, jumbled mess in my brain. It’s her. The woman from the chocolate shop. My mouth feels like I’ve been chewing on cotton but a sip of my coke doesn’t ease the dryness. Hell’s demons, is fate kind? Or is the universe laughing with some huge cosmic joke? The woman who distracted my thoughts all afternoon stands right in front of me. And she wants to help me.
I glance around the table. Help us, I amend.
Most of the hopeful business owners are female and their excitement is nearly palpable. The two other men? There’s interest in their eyes. Are they interested in business? Or her?
The rise of possessiveness surprises me and I barely restrain the growl rumbling in my chest. My eyes narrow on the guy who shows the most interest. If he makes one move?—
“Your name and business?”
The soft question jerks me back to the meeting. “Uh… what?”
Tegan’s lips twitch then she loses the battle and grins. Do my thoughts show in my expression? I release the tension clenching my jaw as she sits and taps the legal pad in front of her. “First step tonight is to get to know each other and your planned businesses. I realize this type of group may not be for everyone or serve your purpose.”
She casts her gaze around the table and the loss of her eyes on me settles disappointment deep in my chest.
“I know a couple of you have already opened, and that’s great. We can all learn from each other. Including me. I’m looking forward to learning from you, too. Communication is key. Both here as we help each other, and especially in your businesses.”
Her bright blue eyes focus on me again and my heart pounds. I wait for her words. “So, your name and business?”
“Rhone Landon.” Thank god my voice comes out normal. “No business name yet, but I create artisanal cheeses.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “Landon? We get organic specialty milks from Steve Landon.”
“My brother. His milks are the base for my cheeses as well.”
“Then I’m sure they’re delicious. I can’t wait to try some.”
She moves on to the woman seated beside me and I force myself to pay attention to the introductions. There’s an interesting variety of plans that should be successful in a tourist town. Once we’ve gone around the table, I blow out a relieved breath. None of these businesses should be any competition.
The next hour flies by as Tegan shares an overview of the massive amount of information needed to successfully open a viable business. I’d believed I’d done my due diligence but now I see obvious gaps in my preparations.
She closes the meeting with an invitation to continue our journeys with her help. A couple who appear overwhelmed by the scope of work needed decide to reconsider their options. The guy who showed more interest in Tegan than in the meeting simply shook his head and after a long, assessing look Tegan thankfully didn’t notice, left the bar.
Saved me the trouble of encouraging him to leave Tegan alone. He’ll remain on my radar though.
When I can no longer delay my own departure, I tuck the folder of paperwork into my folio and rise.
Turning from her conversation with the woman I learned owns the bar, Tegan stops me. “Rhone?”
Shit. The way she says my name, holding the ‘n’ a fraction longer than most people, shoots lust right to my dick. Holding my folio low hides my reaction and I clear my throat. “Yes?”
She drops her gaze and twists her fingers together, a reaction at odds with the confident woman who led the meeting. She takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Did tonight help? Will you be at the next meeting?”
Holding her gaze, I nod. “Huge help. I had no clue how much I still need to do. Your expertise is priceless.” I stop before I say something personal and inappropriate.
“Well, good. I’m glad. See you next week then.” Her lush lips open and close as though she stops herself from saying more. “Umm, if you have any questions, my number’s in the folder. Please don’t hesitate…”
Pink tints her cheeks. I stop myself from leaning closer. “I won’t.” My tone is low and intimate and her eyes focus on my mouth. I need to leave before I do something stupid—like wrap her in my arms and take my time kissing her senseless.
“Until next week,” I say and force myself to turn away. I sense her gaze on my back and straighten my shoulders as I leave the deck through the outside entrance.
Back in my car, I huff out a huge breath. It’s going to be difficult maintaining a professional relationship with Tegan but her knowledge is invaluable. Glancing down at my half hard cock, I shake my head. There’s a damn good chance I’m going to find myself in deep shit here.
The jarring ring of my phone startles me and I fumble pulling it from my pocket. I roll my eyes at the caller ID as I connect the call. My brother.
“Steve, what’s up?”
“I need you to make deliveries for the next couple weeks or so.”
“What happened to Walt? Thought he was back from vacation tomorrow.”
“Had an accident and wrecked his shoulder. Should be fine with rest, but no lifting. Since you’re not doing anything pressing or important, I’ll expect you here early for tomorrow’s deliveries. And for the couple weeks Walt will be off.”
Pressing my lips together I refrain from lashing out at Steve’s imperious command. My interests, my life have never been important to him. I’m good for what I can do to help him and not much else. I wonder how he survived while I was overseas.
No use fighting with him when I can easily find the time to make deliveries. “Sure. I’ll be out early. See you in the morning.”
Without acknowledgement he disconnects and I toss my phone to the passenger seat. I love my brother because he is my brother. But if there wasn’t any familial connection, sometimes I doubt we’d even be friends.
A sudden thought makes me grin. Delivery locations include the chocolate shop. If I make that my last stop, I can linger and get to know Tegan outside of her professional mentor persona. Show her what my heart already knows. She’s mine.