Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Two scoops chocolate chip, Denny?” Mr. Weller asked, holding up a cone.
“Yes, please.” I hooked my thumb at Hank. “My friend is—”
“I know who your friend is. He’s here almost every day.” Mr. Weller winked. “Two scoops vanilla and pecan pralines and cream, Hank?”
Hank grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“Comin’ right up.”
I smiled at the teenagers I recognized from camp as I shuffled to the register with Hank. “I didn’t know you were a regular.”
“I like ice cream and they have the best—” He paused, angling his head toward the window. “I think your friends are here.”
Sure enough, a group of my buddies were waving like goofballs from the picnic table on the side of the shop under a string of fairy lights. Niall, Abe, Micah, Harry, MK and a few of her friends. I waved, handing over a wad of cash and thanking Mr. Weller for my ice cream.
“I should say hi.”
“Yeah, go on,” Hank urged. “I’ll see you later.”
“Nah, come with me. They’re cool.”
“I know they are, but they want to be with you—not their boss, and not the guy they think is making moves on their girl’s boyfriend.”
“They don’t think that.”
Hank snorted. “I’m sure they do. Besides, I need to ice my ass.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”
“The ice or my astute observations? You know I’m right, Den,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll see you later.”
He was gone before I could respond and that was…fine. I mean, we weren’t dating, we weren’t a couple. We were the very definition of temporary.
But that motley crew out there were my people, and they would always be part of my life. I licked my ice cream, ignoring the pang in my gut at the thought of losing Hank…of meeting him after a game next year or bumping into him on the street and pretending we never happened.
Okay, that was bleak.
I forced unhappy thoughts from my head and pushed open the door, smiling as my friends greeted me with a round of “Yo,” “ ’Sup, man,” and even an annoying, “Here’s the hot shit…I mean hotshot.”
I flipped Niall the bird and sidled next to MK on the bench.
“You made it!” Mary-Kate scooted to make room, elbowing me playfully. “How are you? I haven’t seen much of you.”
“Just busy.”
“No one’s seen much of this guy since he started riding horses in his spare time,” Micah piped in, crunching into his cone.
“Riding horses?” Harry asked. “In Fallbrook? Why? I didn’t know you liked horses.”
Harry had played hockey with us in high school, but he’d never been into it. His passion was food, and he’d spent the last year in Paris studying at an elite culinary institute and was currently visiting Elmwood for a short vacation. We had a secret bet that he’d be working for Jean-Claude and Nolan at C’est Bon when he came home for good. His time out of the country had left him out of the loop and the guys were happy to fill him in.
“Our boss is his instructor.” Niall scraped the bottom of his cup with a plastic spoon and shrugged in a universal “Don’t ask me how that happened” gesture that made me want to kick him under the table.
Harry’s brows creased in confusion. “Huh? I thought you worked at the mill.”
“Don’t remind us,” Micah griped, polishing off the last of his cone. “Hey, the pay is good and the work is steady, but you can’t help feeling like you’re selling your soul.”
I bristled on Hank’s behalf. “What do you mean?”
Niall rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Den. This isn’t news. The Cunninghams are chopping up our forest to give that new construction company supplies to build houses on every open bit of land in Wood Hollow. A bunch of outsiders are going to buy places in our area, take our jobs, and where the fuck will we be? Twenty years from now, will we even have a forest?”
“They wonder why they’re having a hard time hiring,” Micah huffed. “No offense to your new buddy, Denny, but let’s be real, this is some grand-plan bullshit. They stole the mill from the Larsons and they’re brainwashing us into thinking they’re doing us a favor.”
“No one stole the mill,” MK reminded him. “The Larsons sold out. And how are they brainwashing us, moron?”
“They sold it for a song, which means they probably got cheated. And the new owners brainwash us by sending over a slick cowboy who fucking brown-noses his way into everyone’s good graces.” Niall pushed his empty cup aside, gaze hardening as he warmed up to his list of grievances. “Look, I know you like the guy, Den, but you gotta admit it’s suspicious that he showed up, befriended a successful hockey player, and started volunteering for homegrown causes out of the blue. This is how corporations plant the seeds for mass takeovers. They buy a small business, ingratiate themselves in the community, then buy another business…and another. Little by little, they own more and more of the land. And natives, like us, are shit out of luck.”