Page 73 of The Fate Factor

“They do this every week. The organizers came to me a couple months ago wanting to partner. It’s one of the last of these before they shut down for the season. I think you’ll like it.”

“You’ve been right every time you’ve said that so far,” she says, beaming at me.

After a bend in the path, the huge stage comes into view. They get big acts here in the summers, but tonight an obviously local four-piece folk band is setting up on the ground in front of it. We curve around the stage onto the open grass, lined on the right with a temporary beer garden, a row of food trucks on the left, and surrounded on three sides by the Fore River.

“What first?” I ask, pressing my lips to the back of her hand. “Food or drink?”

“Food. It smells amazing.”

We order a couple of sandwiches at the gourmet grilled cheese truck, and I hand the guy my card, but when he gives me the slip in return, I immediately realize my mistake. It’s old school and doesn’t have the suggested tip amount on the bottom. Heat rushes up my neck as I try to work out the correct percent of the total, but I can practically feel the entire line watching me. Including Noel.

I’m not going to embarrass myself by pulling up the calculator on my phone, so I grab my wallet back out of my pocket instead, handing him a twenty.

The kid’s face lights up. “Thanks, dude.”

I give him a cocky nod like I’m some high roller not a guy who gets tripped up by simple math.

“That was generous,” Noel says when we step to the side to wait for our food.

“I’m a bartender. I tip well.” My palms are sweaty so I shove them in my pockets instead of holding her hand again.

“I thought you were the owner of a very successful craft brewery.”

“That’s my side gig.” I wink at her but she’s giving me that vaguely psychic look, and I don’t think I’ve pulled anything over.

I’ll have to explain myself eventually. She’ll see the pen marks on my hand when I need to keep track of beers during a busy shift. Or she’ll come with me to watch a game at Coppersmith’s,and she’ll realize I don’t know who’s winning even when the score’s showing.

“Jameson Bishop.” I’m still trying to work out how to tell her when they call my name from the other window. I pick up the sandwiches, gesturing to a picnic table at the edge of the water.

“Your name’s Jameson?” She smoothes her skirt beneath her legs to sit, and I hand her a box.

“Yup. Like the whiskey. But no one calls me that unless I’m in trouble.”

“Ohh. I’ll remember that.” Her eyes flash with a mischief I haven’t seen from her, and my heart does a tug-o-war with my dick to decide which one likes it more. It’s a draw. She’s perfect. I want to make an absolute mess of her.

I manage to tamp that down, though, because I also want to take her out tonight. We talk in between bites, her feet crossed at the ankles and tucked between mine beneath the table, trailing off when the band starts and it’s too hard to hear each other. We’re headed to the beer tap when I see Em at the edge of a blanket near the band, hand to her eyes to block the setting sun. I do a double-take when I notice Cara sprawled out on the ground beside her. Interesting.

I turn to Noel. “Em’s here. Do you mind if we say hi?”

“Of course not.”

We cross the lawn, waving when Em sees us. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” I say hi to Cara and give Em a cocky smirk that says, “and look who you brought.”

She ignores me, though, instead turning to Noel. “I know you.”

Noel slants nervous eyes at me, until Em says, “From the launch last month.”

“Right. I’m—”

“Noel,” Em says. “Like Christmas.”

She laughs. “Yes.”

I introduce Cara who’s staring at me with a too-wide grin. I know instantly she and Em have been talking about me. Before Wes’s dad, my mom was married to this guy who had two daughters, both younger than me and obnoxiously interested in everything I did. This is like that.

Cara stands to give me a side hug. Her huge mass of cinnamon-colored curls sticks to my stubble, and I make a show of pushing it down before hugging her back.

“You and Jamie went to school together, right?” Noel asks Em, and it’s fucking adorable the way she seems nervous. Like she’s trying for something she doesn’t know she already has.

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