Spring Bounty (Seasons in Colorado: Spring #3)

CHAPTER 1

MEADOW

I take a sip of my delicious coffee as I settle deeper into my chair. Even though I’m in our office for the morning meeting with my girls of Green Mountain High, part of me is in my bakery. It’s where I feel most at home and there is always something to do in my kitchen.

Right now, I’m starting to plan my fall menu since my summer menu is launching soon.

Being ahead of things isn’t always easy, but I’ve started to find my rhythm when it comes to seasonal offerings.

The hardest part is sourcing the right cannabis additives, and choosing which recipes feature them and which don’t.

That is where Rook comes in.

I would welcome him into my bakery and…other places in my body.

The thought almost has me snorting my latte out of my nose. Mayer, who is the leader of our little cannabis business troupe, shoots me a strange look. I wave my hand dismissively to let her know she can continue, and not to worry about me.

Her lips thin slightly. To anyone else it would seem like she’s annoyed, but I can see the sparkle of amusement in her eyes. She’s just trying to hide it.

Because right now, she’s in work mode. It’s how she’s always been—work comes first and deserves her entire focus.

We’ve learned to roll with her particular brand of Type-A.

It’s also why she’s the one overseeing the entirety of Green Mountain High, the business overall.

The rest of us that make up GMH—me, Greylin, and Gemma— we have our strengths, but she is the only person who can be fully in charge of it all.

Greylin takes her side of the business very seriously when it comes to the traditional dispensary.

She pays attention to customer trends and within the industry, as well as to what is available to be sold.

She makes sure to source the right strains and has what people want when they set foot inside of GMH.

Gemma runs our event space. She is always coming up with new events, as well as ensuring anyone who rents our spaces is taken care of. She loves creating the right party atmosphere for our clients. And everyone leaves here happy.

Since she’s always looking for ways to grow our business, she’s been trying to figure out how to brew a cannabis beer for the shop. She hasn’t figured it out yet, but I have no doubt that she will. Gemma is pretty stubborn when she needs to be.

Then there’s me and where I fit into our business plan.

In a lot of ways, the entire business was built around my dream, one I’ve had since I was a little girl spending as much time as I could in the kitchen with my grandmother. She loved to bake and passed that love, and appreciation, since it is an art form, down to me.

I can’t remember a time when I would walk into my grandmother’s house to find it absent of the scent of vanilla or something baking in the oven.

The way she taught me to love was through feeding people; finding the things they love and savor and giving it back to them.

It’s how she loved me; it’s how I love in return.

There’s nothing quite like seeing someone bite into something you baked and seeing joy on their face because of it.

“Okay, Meadow,” Mayer turns to me, indulgence written all over her face, “it’s your turn. What’s going on with the bakery?”

It didn’t take long for me to figure out why I’m the last one to talk during our morning meetings. I can get lost in talking about everything going onto the bakery. It’s probably boring to most other people, but for me it’s my passion.

If you don’t have friends who will build an entire business around your dreams and passions, do you even have friends?

I’m aware that I’m pretty fucking lucky. Because we wouldn’t have Green Mountain High if it weren’t for the women surrounding me. All to ensure I have the bakery I always wanted.

“As you know, the summer specials will be launching soon. People are excited to see what is going to be added for summer, especially with how popular the fruity things were last summer and throughout spring,” I tell my best friends as pride fills my chest.

“You’re so cute,” Gemma teases me. There’s nothing malicious in her words and the smile on her face is clear to see. “I could listen to you talk about menu planning for hours.”

I huff out a laugh and roll my eyes because my best friends are more than willing to indulge me, but they have their limits. Hours? I think not. Well, maybe, but her eyes would glaze over before too long.

“I’ve started planning for our fall menu already,” I tell them after sticking my tongue out at Gemma.

My three best friends let out matching groans of frustration, but they smile at me. It’s not like I can blame them for their reaction. I can be extremely focused and overly driven when I’m planning my seasonal menu.

Honestly, I become completely obsessed. When I’m focused on the new menu, nothing else can penetrate my mind. I have to ensure everything is perfect when it comes to the recipes.

And that is all about balance. I need to balance the flavors of fall with the right terpenes and concentrates. My goal is for every pastry I make to be an experience, both when it comes to taste and the effect.

The amount of recipe testing I do is probably out of control; nothing less is possible for me because I want every product I put out there to be perfect. My customers deserve nothing less; it’s a point of pride for myself and in the name of my grandmother.

Hopefully, she looks down on me now and is proud of the way I’ve been able to keep one of the things she loved in this life alive. I’ve modified so many of her recipes, and I swear I almost feel her guiding me as I tweak the things I make.

“Oh please, like you all don’t love it when I’m testing out new items,” I throw back at them.

“Not so many pumpkin things this year,” Greylin begs me. “There are other fall flavors.”

I arch an eyebrow, my voice full of a good-natured challenge, “Like what?”

Her eyes go wide and round as she blinks at me a few times. “Caramel? Apple?”

I can tell she’s grasping at straws, but her suggestions aren’t without merit. With a wink, I admit, “I have both of those on my flavor profile mood board.”

Mayer snorts out a laugh. “I love that you put together a flavor mood board. Did you find some good food porn shots for your inspiration?”

I can’t help the way my cheeks heat because she’s pegged me completely correctly. I did find some good photos of the flavor profiles I’m going for this fall as inspiration.

“I’m not going to be ashamed of the beauty of nature,” I snark at them while pouting slightly.

“You fierce warrior, you,” Greylin teases me, “out here defending the gloriousness of mother nature’s best work.”

“Someone has to,” I sit up straight and put on my best posh accent which has my best friends giggling right along with me.

“So,” Gemma’s voice has a lilt to it that tells me she’s about to give me a whole bunch of shit about something, “it’s time to work with Rook again, huh?”

I bite my lip and look away from my friend. I want to bury my face in the soft upholstery of the chair I’m curled up in. That is one of the wonderful things about designing your business with your best friends—we were able to set up our huge four-person office for business as well as comfort.

Which means we start every day comfortable and in a space that feels like home.

“He really cares about the product he puts out and is willing to listen to my dissertations about terpenes and their role in the entire experience. His business is a good size to craft exactly what I need, and he never cuts corners when it comes to quality,” I defend my working relationship with Rook.

“You could get a better deal elsewhere,” Mayer points out, but there’s nothing malicious in her eyes, just curiosity.

“Maybe,” I concede and try not to jump down my best friend’s throat.

“But Rook is able to work with me one-on-one and provide exactly what I’m looking for.

Also, he’s still small, just like we are and I think we should support him.

Hopefully, as he grows, he doesn’t forget about us,” there’s a wistful quality in my voice that I’m unable to hide completely.

When I look at my friends, they all wear matching knowing looks and grins. With a roll of my eyes, I huff out a laugh and hold my hands up in surrender.

“Supporting small, local business,” Greylin teases me, “is that what we’re calling it now?”

I narrow my eyes at her and decide the only way I can get myself out of this situation is to deflect, deflect, deflect. Which is exactly what I set out to do in spectacular fashion, even if I’m not smooth in the least.

“How is everything going with Aiden? I’m a little surprised that you’ve come up for air already,” I tease her.

The smile on her face tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing.

I almost breathe a sigh of relief, but you never know what can happen with these ladies.

We’ve known each other so damn long at this point that we do know each other’s secrets, the things we wish people would forget, and the dreams we’ve forgotten ourselves.

“Well, you have to breathe sometimes,” Greylin laughs and winks at me. “Things have been really good though.”

She says good, but the happiness on her face is obvious. The woman is practically radiating joy.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t entirely shocked when Greylin and Aiden got together. I thought that his whole date bargain thing was just a way to create an in for him. He doesn’t have to admit it to me; I know I’m right.

I never thought I’d see the day when the mayor’s son, the same mayor who hates our business and recreational cannabis use at all, would fall in love with the woman who runs the dispensary in town. Oh, and Aiden is a police officer. It’s poetic and beautiful.

As long as Aiden treats her right and stands against his father for her, then I’m all for them being together. I’ve seen the way the man looks at her; I wish someone would look at me the same way.

Maybe one day.

Mayer’s lip curls slightly as she sneers, “Has his awful fucking father come around with his tail between his legs?”

I cringe and share a look with Gemma. Mayer has been on the front lines when it comes to fighting Mayor Simmons and the crusade he’s been on since even before we opened. He’s used the health department and the smallest of town ordinances to make our lives hell.

There hasn’t been all that much we could do about it either. Not unless we wanted to take the mayor on. He’s been elected in Storyville for years; I’m not entirely sure who would come out on top of that battle.

Right doesn’t always win.

“He hasn’t been making waves,” Greylin reminds our fierce friend, the one who battle cries before jumping into the fray every time Bart Simmons has decided to fuck with us and our business.

“No,” Mayer admits, her shoulders slumping slightly, “but my gut is telling me he hasn’t given up. Just because his son is with Greylin doesn’t mean shit, other than our girl is happy.”

“Being happy is kind of important,” I point out, only mildly unhelpfully.

“You’re not wrong,” Mayer pinches the bridge of her nose, “but you know what I mean. I have a feeling good ‘ole Bart is just biding his time. He’ll be coming up with something really fucked up to mess with us next. I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”

The way she says it, like a vow sealed with blood, has a shiver working its way down my spine. I hope Mayor Simmons lets it all go, but I have my doubts too. His whole vendetta is ridiculous anyway.

All because his ex, once upon a time, left him high and dry with two kids and went off to some hippie commune? It’s asinine, but people hold grudges for the strangest reasons.

What the man needs is therapy, not a pulpit. But here we are.

I know Mayer will deal with whatever happens next. Meanwhile, I need to get myself mentally prepared to interact with Rook. I seem to lose at least half my braincells every time I see the man. Talking to him is almost impossible.

Maybe this time I won’t embarrass myself. At least not too badly. Hopefully.