Chapter 3

chapter

three

Carter

Was I temporarily possessed by the spirit of a horny teenage virgin?

That's what I sounded like when talking to Summer.

I shamble unsteadily back to my booth with what remains of my encounter with that gorgeous woman: a little cup that reads "The Little Spoon," full of the most delicious frozen treat I've ever tasted. Fruity, sexy and refreshing.

But it's all meaningless because I didn't even offer her a deal. I am the witless, charmless wonder.

As I kick myself for making dumb comments and staring like a serial killer, Cooper strides alongside me and yammers away. "I think we should give Little Spoon all our backing, right now," he says.

Any other day, I would try to bring Cooper back down to earth.

Instead, I blurt, "I think we should invite them over for dinner."

Cooper steps back from me, then cuts his eyes to the dessert cup I'm holding. "Who are you right now? Did they put crazy pills in the fro-yo?"

I gesture with the spoon and speak with my mouth full like an unmannered ape. "Have you tried this?"

"Yeah, it's really friggin' good," Cooper says. "But it's a terrible business idea."

"Awful. Ridiculous to open a brick-and-mortar gourmet dessert store in this economy," I say. "And I think we should go all in."

"Glad you and I are on the same page for once, brother," Cooper says.

"It's too loud in here to hammer out the terms," I add, glaring at the echoing crowd. "We should invite them over."

Cooper narrows his eyes at me. I wonder if he's about to examine me for a concussion. "You're talking about a totally professional scenario, right?" Cooper asks.

I toss the empty cup and spoon into a nearby trash bin. "Correct. It's not a date. Just business."

"I saw the way you were eyeing her outfit," Cooper says. "Are you sure your motives are pure?"

I was keeping an eye on the other men who were ogling her. There's a difference.

"Cooper," I remind him. "You know me. This is all too loud and too chaotic to accomplish anything concrete. I'm just…tired of this crowd and would like to go home now."

I cut my gaze to the left as something shiny catches my eye. Summer has discarded her stilettos. Barefoot, she chats up the guys at the booth across the aisle from us, accepting a free miniature frisbee. They look like a group of young upstart venture capitalists. But the name of their company tells the whole story: BHI. As in, Bryant Holdings, Inc.

Shit. There goes the neighborhood.

"Damn it. I told you we should have added disc golf merch," Cooper growls through his teeth. "The Bryant cousins are gonna be all over those girls like bees on a Coke can."

One of the two managers of the Bryant estate looks as if he walked off the set of Wall Street. Cocky and dressed to the nines. One of them takes the little frisbee, writes something on it, and then hands it back to Summer.

"Those aren't the Bryant cousins. Those are the Bryants' fund managers," I say, not taking my eyes off Summer.

"How do you know?" Cooper asks.

"For one thing, I'm a history nerd. The only Bryant heir is a woman. Aunt Gabby knew her parents."

Cooper grunts. "There's no way we can compete with old railroad money."

Wow. My brother cracked a book in American history class. Wonders will never cease.

He's also correct about our chances. Those stuffed suits over there represent the estate of W.H. Bryant, one of the preeminent railroad magnates back in the day that put this area on the map. New York has the Lyndhurst mansion. North Carolina boasts Biltmore. California has Hearst Castle. Our little patch of the U.S. has the Bryant Estate—built in 1900 by the famous railroad and shipping family. Their remaining descendant, a single woman in her late 20s, lives ensconced in mystery in the woods of Appalachia.

Summer takes the frisbee from the Bryant representative and reads what he wrote. It must've been an actual offer because she laughs. "Is that all you got? The MacKenzies are offering much more attractive terms." When she says our last name, she turns and glances in our direction.

"How'd she know who we are?" Cooper asks.

That's his question? "Why'd she say we made an offer to Little Spoon!?" I exclaim.

"That is ballsy," Cooper laughs.

I can't decide if that's a bad or good way to start a bidding war between potential investors.

"Zip it," I tell Cooper. "She's on her way over here."

Cooper turns to me and reaches for my neck, and I swat him away.

"Ow! Straighten your tie, bro. You look like an absentminded professor."

Instead, I meet her halfway. Before I can question it, I scoop her up in my arms.

"Hey!" Summer shrieks.

"You need to stay off that ankle."

"I was just coming over to give you guys the elevator pitch," Summer chuckles.

Her arms feel good around my neck.

"Not necessary," I say. "Your product is pretty good."

To my annoyance, Cooper reaches for her hand, covering it in one of his big mitts. "Cooper MacKenzie," he says. "I believe I met your business partner over there."

"Everyone knows who you are," she says, not taking her eyes off me. Her long lashes blink up at me slowly, ramping up the heat that's been slowly building since I first saw her.

"They do?" Cooper asks.

"You guys own the Louisville Dragons," Summer croons, mentioning the name of the professional baseball team.

"Yeah," Cooper says. "We do. Where's your friend, by the way?"

"We're part owners," I correct him. "Among other things."

"But we can get you and your friend tickets. We have a reserved box," my brother adds.

Cooper thinks I'm nuts. It would be far more lucrative to let people assume we're sole owners of the Dragons. But I'm not about exaggerating things. I'm about cold, hard facts.

"Cool," Summer says with disinterest in him while staring me up and down. "Anyway, here's the pitch: When did you last go to one of those self-serve frozen yogurt parlors with your friends? Never, right? Because they're for kids."

"Yeah, those places are sticky and chaotic. No thank you," I say.

By this time, Harmony, her friend in the semi-matching getup, strolls up.

"What's going on? Why is he carrying you?" Harmony says, a little alarmed.

"I'm not letting her put weight on her ankle," I say.

"This is a little over the top," says her sister.

"As I was saying," Summer continues. "What if I told you there was a place just like that, but for grown-ups? By day, Little Spoon is a next-level, family-friendly, self-serve gourmet fro-yo place with more homemade candy and cookie toppings than in Willy Wonka's imagination. But after 6 p.m., it's a date night hot spot."

Cooper grunts in approval. "Sounds fun, but I need to hear more."

Harmony is silent. We all look at her, and she swallows, glancing away nervously.

"Ah shit," Cooper says. "I was trying to put you on the spot, Shark Tank-style, but that came out as aggressive. Please tell me more."

My brother pleads, pressing his hands together. Harmony blushes.

Summer shifts in my arms, her bare midriff brushing against my ribs. She smells like a summer garden, and her bare legs are smooth and silky against my arm. My cock twitches even as my back strains. I don't care if I throw my back out; I'm not putting her down.

Summer encourages her sister, making me fall for her even harder. "Go on, tell him all about it. Making it a date spot was your idea, Mastermind."

I love that Summer didn't take the credit for her shy sister.

Harmony tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "So, we'll close at 5 p.m. and open back up at 7 p.m. with low lighting, candles, floral arrangements, live music, and all of our grown-up frozen cocktails."

"Frocktails!" Cooper shouts, punching the air.

"Don't make up words, it's not your store," I tell him, reining him in.

The girls exchange a glance, Harmony giggling. Cooper looks pleased.

"Anyway," Summer says, her gaze drifting to my chest. I'm not terrible to look at, but I wish I'd spent more time at the gym now. "All of our cocktail desserts are made with top-shelf alcohol, and fresh local ingredients whenever possible."

"And where is this place going to be? Rent for an independent brick-and-mortar shop in Gold Hill is a premium for an untested concept," I say, already mentally crunching the numbers.

Summer and Harmony exchange another look.

"We know," Harmony says. "That's why it's going to be in downtown Fate."

This idea gets worse and worse.

These girls will make zero dollars in Fate. Zip. Zilch. They'll be out of business in a year, guaranteed.

But I'm not about to say such a thing when I'm holding Summer in my arms.

"I can see by the way you two are looking at each other you think that's a bad location," Summer says.

Cooper stutters, and he never stutters. "Well, it's…not bad, per se…but it's just…"

I go hard with the twin ESP thing. Don't say it, bro. Don't say another word about that dinky little town across the river. Don't say a single shitty thing.

But he ignores me. Of course he does. He does not know when to shut up. "It's just that the last time I was there, it wasn't exactly a prosperous enough place to support a decent hotel, let alone?—"

I interrupt with, "What Cooper is trying to say is we need a lot more information and we'd like you to come over for dinner at our house."

Cooper turns to me. I ignore him.

"You would?" Summer asks, blinking at me. Her soft, supple cheek is so close I could kiss it. I'm salivating, which might make me a pig, considering that this woman is injured and can't escape me.

"Listen," I say, louder than what is my comfort level of speaking because it's too fucking loud in here. "I can't hear myself think. I hate crowds. I'm much better sitting down and having a kitchen table conversation."

A slow smile lights up Summer's face. "I like that idea."

"Good."

"My phone is in the pocket of my shorts. Hold on." My whole body burns as she shifts around, pressing her pretty boobs against my chest as she digs into her back pocket.

"Wow," I hear Cooper say, watching this spectacle. I do my best to ignore him.

Finally, Summer raises her phone to let me share my contact info with her.

"But we don't have extra clothes…I mean, we can't go to dinner looking like this…" Harmony complains.

"You look perfect," Cooper corrects her.

Harmony looks down and crosses her arms over her bare midriff.

Without taking her eyes off me, Summer replies, "Don't worry, sis. It's all gonna work out."

I return Summer's bright smile with my hesitant one as our phones chirp.

"Looking forward to talking business with you," Summer says.

"All business," I agree.

"You can put my sister down now," Harmony says. "I can help her hobble back to our booth."

"See you tonight," Summer says, then presses a quick, soft kiss against my cheek.

Carefully, I set her down. My temperature drops, and I shiver, missing her closeness. The sisters walk away, Harmony lending support.

"We're supposed to be wooing them out of their money, not finding dates for ourselves," Harmony says, assuming she's out of earshot.

"Why not both?" Summer laughs.

I only hope Summer's not kidding around.