Chapter 9 #2
“Hi.” Jarred can’t be older than twenty-six but the blond beard has him looking closer to thirty. There’s a seriousness buried in his brow too, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
I try not to let that worry me as I take a breath, my words rushing out. “So, this is random I know, but I wanted to talk to you about a business proposition.”
“Oh.” Jarred glances at his watch and rubs his palm on the back of his neck. “I was actually just heading out.”
It’s only then I notice the suit trousers and the pristine white shirt he’s wearing.
Not exactly working the orchard attire. Not exactly Pine Rock attire period.
A bad feeling squirms in my stomach. I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard rumors that Felix, the youngest North brother, ran into some trouble last year.
The kind of trouble that involves court dates and jail time.
Jarred has always been the most put together of the North brothers, the golden boy, but dark bags hang under his eyes and the lines of his jaw are a little too sharp. He looks tired. Bone tired. Shit. I shouldn’t have just turned up here.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I would have called but I didn’t have your number, and I just thought…” I trail off and take a step back. “Never mind. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hang on,” he says as I stumble down the porch steps.
I look back at him.
“I’ve got a few minutes.” He nods at the folder I’m still clutching to my chest like a baby koala. “And you look like you came prepared.”
He leans against the wall by the bench swing and crosses his arms.
I hop back up onto the porch, ready to take this opportunity and run with it.
I can do hard things.
“Okay, so I’m happy to arrange a sit down and talk over the details but essentially I’d like to offer you the opportunity to sell your unsellable produce for a discounted rate.”
Jarred’s brows dip in confusion and he straightens up. “Lola–”
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. “Shit, sorry. I’m doing this wrong. I practiced this like a hundred times, I swear.”
I close my eyes and take a breath. “I’m opening a coffee shop in town and we’re going to be selling apple fries–”
“Lola, just wait a second.” Jarred holds up his hand.
I step back and try to stop the tears pooling in my eyes. I can’t believe I messed up so fast. “I should work on my pitch, huh?”
Jarred shakes his head, my rough around the edges joke met with pity. “Your pitch is fine, but I don’t own the orchard anymore.”
I drop my arms. My folder knocks against my thigh. “What?”
“We sold it a few years back.” He shakes his head. “I figured you would have known given how close your family is with Roman.”
Fingertips walk up my spine and I tighten my grip on my folder. “What does Roman have to do with anything?”
Jarred’s eyes crease, looking at me like I might be short a screw or two. “He’s who I sold the orchard to.”
My stomach drops to my feet. Jarred carries on talking, waving a hand towards the trees out back. “He lives in the old stables.”
And there goes my heart too. Splattered against the porch. I didn’t even know Roman had moved. He never told me. He bought an entire orchard, and he never told me.
I know that’s not fair. I’ve spent the last six years trying to avoid anything and everything to do with Roman. I saw him maybe twice a year and anytime my parents or Mase brought him up in conversation I changed the subject.
But still.
How did I not know?
“Lola, are you alright?”
I blink at Jarred in a daze. “Yeah. Fine.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help, but I’m sure Roman will hear you out. It sounds like a good deal.” He’s watching me like I’m a live wire. His voice soft.
“Yeah. Of course,” I say, even though pitching my idea to Roman is the last thing on Earth I want to do.
I barely spent half the day with the man yesterday and it was enough to have me dreaming about him.
About us. There is no way I can work with him.
In fact this morning I’d come to the conclusion I need to stay as far away from him as possible.
Mid panic, I notice Jarred’s eyes drop to his watch.
“Oh my god. You have to go. I’m so sorry.” I move down the steps, pushing myself up against the banister to get out of the way.
Jarred eyes his truck, then looks back at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I wave a hand in front of my face, like I can brush his words away. Like he hasn’t just turned my entire business plan to dust. “Totally. Like you say. I’m sure Roman will hear me out.” And he would too. If I had any intention of actually pitching to him.
I back up farther down the steps and Jarred follows me down.
“Thanks for your time anyways.” It occurs to me I should probably stop walking backwards because I’ve had enough close calls on roadsides today, so I salute Jarred (because of course, I do) and turn around.
“Hey Lola,” he calls.
I look over my shoulder.
Jarred stops with one hand on the handle to his truck. “Good luck with the coffee shop. I’ll be sure to grab a drink when you open.”
I grin at him, because even though my plan is now swimming in the deep end surrounded by sharks—unfairly attractive, teenage crush eating sharks—Jarred just became my first customer.
The happy feeling lasts right until my phone buzzes. I’m not sure why, but I know before I open the message it’s going to be from the unknown number. What I’m not prepared for is to see a photo of me sprawled on the sand bank on the side of the road.
Unknown Number: Careful, Lola.
The folder slips out of my hand and hits the ground.
I glance around, suddenly feeling like I’m being watched, but Jarred’s driven off and there’s no one else here. I almost call Scott again, but I don’t want him to worry and if I’m going to stay in Pine Rock, I need to figure out how to solve this myself.
My fingers tremble as I go into my contacts and find a number I haven’t messaged in years. I know I shouldn’t be talking to Max, but I can’t go to the police, and I don’t know what else to do.
Lola: I need your help. Can you trace this number for me?