Page 86 of The Fate Factor

I greet another customer, feeling my blood start to buzz. This is my wheelhouse—working the crowd, describing how different ingredients work together, toting our community initiatives. I’ve always been good at this part. Always loved it. And maybe that’s more important to our success than I thought.

Noel and Cara duck under our tent, each holding a cup of something clear and carbonated, and definitely poured at someone else’s tent. “Cheating on me?” I joke, nodding at Noel’s cup while I hand off the one I’m pouring.

“Another beer will never touch my lips, Jamie.” She presses up to kiss my cheek, but I turn at the last second and steal her mouth instead. It’s not exactly work appropriate when I slide my tongue over hers, but I’m the boss, right?

“That’s not beer,” I say at the taste of fruit on her mouth.

“It’s hard seltzer.”

Em and I exchange twin looks of disgust, and Cara taps the brim of Em’s hat. “Don’t be a beer snob, babe.”

Noel runs her fingers over my back as she takes the stool I haven’t had two seconds to sit on yet. “Hey, were you able to check in?” Our luggage is still in the truck since we had to be here before breakfast.

Noel shakes her head. “They said the room won’t be ready until four.”

Exhausted as I am, I’m not disappointed. When she agreed to come here with me, I called to change my reservation from business economy to a mountain view room. Having her check in alone wouldn’t have the same effect as walking in together and seeing her face. I want her to know that it matters to me to be good to her. That I’m successful and serious.

The crowd thins for a brief hiatus, and I step between her knees, dipping to press a long kiss to her forehead. When I pull away, she blinks up at me with wide eyes, her mouth pushed into a pout like she can feel the weight of my thoughts.

“Hi,” she says again, just for me.

“Hi.” I press my nose into her neck, huffing the scent of the lodge that’s baked into her hair—fire and cocoa.

She pushes the brim of my hat up and scratches her nails through my hair. “Why are you rubbing on me like a cat?”

“I’m trying to get pet.”

I feel her giggle against my cheek. “Fresh.”

I take her cup and sniff it, making a face. “Dump this out and drink my beer.”

“So jealous.”

“Can’t help it.” I slide my other hand down to the hem of her sweater and tug. “This too. Wear my brand. Let me put my mark on you.”

Her lashes flutter into a playful eye roll. “Whatever you want, love.”

Love. The word is a swift dropping in my chest, a whooshing sound in my ears like something flying by that I want to catch. Which is entirely different than the last time I felt it, when I was cutting any thought of loving someone out of me.

“Well?” She tilts her head, and I realize I’m staring.

“Right.” I pull away, reaching beneath the merch table to pull one of our hoodies from a box.

She takes it and slips it over her head, pulling her ponytail free. “There you go,” she says. “All yours.”

Ireallylike the way that sounds.

twenty-eight

Noel

I’vecometoadmitthat Jamie is full of good ideas but asking me to tag along on this trip might be my favorite. Cara and I spend the whole day outside, breathing mountain air and accumulating enough samples of beer and seltzer to leave my cheeks red and my body warm.

At seven, the beer garden closes, and Jamie packs up for the night. We make up an excuse, flimsy and barely worth the lie, and ditch Em and Cara, practically running to our hotel room to be alone.

“Come here,” Jamie says, his hand snaking around my stomach while I try to open the door.

“Stop.” I giggle and bat at him. My brain is static, swirling with need, and unable to complete rudimentary tasks. Anyonewalking by will think we’re breaking in with the way my fingers fumble. “Let’s get behind this closed door, please.”

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