Winter Bargain (Seasons in Colorado: Winter #4)

CHAPTER 1

GREYLIN

As I settle into our office, I can’t help but feel a surge of pride.

We did this. We’ve been doing this, I should say.

It’s not new, but it still feels that way.

It also still feels like a long time coming because we spent so long researching, coming up with a plan, getting all the pieces into place, and then making our dream into a reality.

That is when Green Mountain High was born. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure our little town of Storyville was ready for GMH. I’m still not sure it’s ready, but our town has embraced our business. Well, most people have.

It’s hard to ignore the one person who seems to have it out for us, but I try.

Because if I think about Mayor Bart Simmons, then I’ll think about his son, Officer Aiden Simmons.

And the very last person I want to think about is Aiden. No. Nope. Not today. Not tomorrow.

No thank you.

The man is already enough of a bother in my day-to-day life; I don’t need him to invade my thoughts as well. Talk about adding insult to injury.

As if you don’t already think about the man.

Pushing thoughts of him away is easy when I look around the large office. It’s perfect and exactly what we wanted when we designed the space. We each have our corner of the room, but because the business, as a whole, has to function as one, we have to be accessible to each other.

It’s not like I’ll be heading over to Meadow’s desk thinking I can order flour or whatever. I certainly won’t be near her recipes or her plans for incorporating seasonal fruit in her baked goods for the next year.

And she wouldn’t come to my desk and try to place an order with Rook, one of our more local farmers. She wouldn’t know the first thing about which strains I’m planning to order, or what sells as a pre-roll and what doesn’t.

But if push comes to shove, we could accept an order for the other.

Leaning on our strengths was how this business came to be.

Well, that and some Over The Ridge Moonshine. Gemma found it for one of our girls’ nights. She was all excited about it. Something about the distillery once being in the hills of someplace called Dogwood Ridge, Tennessee, before they could operate legally.

She’s always finding little breweries or small distilleries to try. The entire process is fascinating to her. It’s her thing.

Putting the four of us together and adding in some moonshine had us coming up with an entire business plan. It took us time, but we made it into reality.

There were a lot of people who didn’t think we would be able to pull it off. I get it, but I don’t have to like how people underestimated us. Being young, seeing as we’re 26 now, and women, made a lot of people look down on our business plan.

I grab my tablet just as Gemma and Meadow walk in and I flash them a smile. Mayer, who keeps the entirety of the operation going, expects us to show up ready for our monthly meeting. Not that we wouldn’t, but she’s great at keeping our friendship and GMH separate and managing to protect both.

We put her in charge because she was the only one capable of controlling the various moving parts of GMH while letting Meadow, Gemma, and myself be in charge of our specific areas. I wouldn’t want her job.

With all of our office areas taking up the corners, the center of the room is a communal sitting area. And we made it as comfortable as possible since it’s where we go through event packages with clients and hold meetings.

When I sit in my favorite spot, I snuggle deeper into the couch and curl my legs underneath me. Mayer walks in, the clicking of her heels making me almost want to giggle.

She must see the amusement on my face because she points at me with narrowed eyes as she reaches her desk and immediately uses it to brace against as she takes off her heels. “You know it’s a power move and that’s why I wear them,” she bites out the words, but there’s no teeth.

“You hate them,” I point out.

Fuck, how she hates them. Mayer’s rants about heels are epic. She even brings the mother of whatever man invented them into the conversation. She’ll read the whole bloodline for filth.

As if she’s not the one to blame for the three or four-inch monstrosities she chooses to wear most days. Nope, it’s all on her, and she knows it.

But I can agree with her about it being a power move. She looks like a boss bitch in her heels; and when she gets going about something, usually whatever bullshit Mayor Simmons is up to now, it’s glorious to witness.

“Beauty is pain,” she sighs with an overdramatic flair that has us all laughing.

When she sits down and pulls a blanket over her, her suit no longer visible, I’m reminded of teenage sleepovers involving pajamas, junk food, and late-night movie marathons. This moment is both worlds away and yet, somehow, feels exactly the same.

Which is why I was never worried about going in on getting this business off the ground. From the start, we designed this business to be fueled by our strengths while allowing us room to grow.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Mayer will not allow emotions at our monthly meeting.

It’s one of her rules and it makes perfect sense.

These meetings are about our business; they’re never personal.

We deal in facts and projections. We make action plans and identify areas where improvement is required.

Mayer asks, “Are we ready?”

Gemma giggles and teases her, “I swear I’m getting you a gavel for your birthday.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Mayer tosses back with a smile on her face.

We chuckle, but when Mayer looks at me with expectations written all over her face, I know I’m up. I don’t go into too much detail because I don’t want anyone’s eyes to glaze over. I can geek out over strains, percentages, and hybrids.

Analyzing my data from the dispensary part of the business is a damn good time. It’s a challenge to see the patterns of what is selling and try to predict how it is going to change, and when, while trying to figure out what will be in demand when it does.

My best friends don’t find any of that information nearly as interesting. Sure, they would humor me, but I could be here all night.

I’m quite sure it’s why Mayer has me go first during our meetings. She knows I could talk about the numbers and how it relates to the product and trends for far too long.

“I’m going to nudge our inventory to be more sativa heavy to help everyone get through the winter. I’ll run some sales and see if we can give our customers a little boost.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Meadow pipes up. “I’m rolling out a citrus cookie this week that is all sativa. Between the citrus and the strain, it’ll practically be summer.”

Gemma chuckles and I have to bite my lip to stop from doing the same. Mayer teases, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more beautiful segway.”

“I know,” Meadow chirps and tosses her blonde hair back over her shoulder. “I’m going to be rolling out the apple strudel this week since I perfected the recipe. Thank you for being patient while I had you all taste test.”

Meadow is beaming and, honestly, the look on her face and the joy she puts into baking is at the heart of why we opened GMH. She has wanted to open a bakery her entire life. I’m pretty sure she came out of the womb wearing an oven mitt.

To hear her mom tell it, she had a whisk clutched to her chest.

With this business we found a way to help our best friend have her bakery. And it’s working out quite well for everyone involved.

I zone out a little bit when she talks about how excited she is for stone fruit season. Then she mentions plans to work with Rook on extracting terpenes for a new scone for spring. His operation is still small, which means he can cater to whatever Meadow is cooking, well, baking up.

It helps that we’re good clients, I’m sure. At least, it can’t hurt.

I tease her, “Working with Rook again?”

When I wiggle my eyebrows, she sticks her tongue out at me and insists, “We’re just friends.” She scrunches her face up slightly and corrects herself, “Really, more like friendly professionals.”

“Uh-huh,” echoes through the room, in triplicate.

Because Mayer, Gemma, and I all have the same response.

Meadow turns pink and we let it drop. For now.

“I’m just waiting for the next thing his most honorable Mayor Simmons tries to pull,” Mayer sneers as our meeting starts to wrap up after Gemma goes over what is going on in the event space this month, including a Galentine’s Day party.

“After the issue with our Christmas decorations, it’s been too quiet. I just know he’s up to something.”

I understand why she’s suspicious. I am too.

The man has had it out for us since the beginning.

He didn’t like seeing our county pass recreational cannabis laws in the first place.

You would think he doesn’t have a full-time job with how much time he puts into trying to figure out how to take down GMH.

Which is why I don’t allow myself to think about how Aiden is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Of course, I see him most often when he’s pulling me over. That takes down his hot factor for sure.

Gemma sighs, “Maybe we just see it as a good thing and try not to jinx us?”

Mayer hums, but I already know she’s not going to let it go. The woman is going to drive herself out of her mind trying to predict what Mayor Simmons’s next move is.

When we walk out together, we hug and go our separate ways. Which is for the best.

Even though we’ve talked about getting a place for the four of us, it would be too much now with GMH. I love those women. They’re my family, just like my brother, Elwood.

And I don’t want to live with him either.

Well, now that Hollyn is in his life and he’s happy and looking towards forever with her, there isn’t enough money in the world for me to live with him. Gross.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he’s happy. They’re an adorable couple and I really like Hollyn. She’s good people and has been teaching me about how to schedule my marketing while streamlining social media posting.

Still, the very last thing I want to hear or, gag, walk in on is my brother getting laid.

I shudder as I buckle in and notice that I’m the last in line to pull out of the parking lot to head home. Even though my friends can’t see me, I wave goodbye before turning in the opposite direction.

After driving less than a block, red and blue lights flash behind me.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I snarl the words and take a deep breath.

The desire to storm out of my car and tell Officer Simmons right where to shove it, is almost impossible to ignore. But he is a police officer. I am not.

I’m also not stupid.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel after I roll the window down, but only partway. It’s winter, it’ll have to be good enough.

“Good evening, Greylin,” Aiden’s smokey voice slides through the window and wraps around me. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I get your license, registration, and proof of insurance?”

He poses it like a question, a request, but we both know it’s not. And we’ve danced these steps before. He won’t tell me why he’s pulled me over until I give him what he’s asked for. So that’s what I do; I hand it over.

As if he hasn’t memorized my damn license number by now.

When he rests his arm against the top of my car and leans down, I consider punching him in the face. But I’m not a violent person and I’m not going to let this infuriating man affect me that much.

His mouth tips up in a smirk while his green eyes take me in. I already know whatever reason he’s used to pull me over is going to be ridiculous. And if I soak him in while acting annoyed, I keep it to myself.