Page 28 of Riding the Sugar High

“On this side,” he says after a moment, “we have the main buildings. Where we store produce and machines. There’s a cottage too.”

Once he parks on the gravel strip, we get out of the car, and he walks past the little cottage, then points ahead. “Vegetables there. A little bit of everything. We started growing peas last year.”

I let my eyes wander, but even from the higher point where we’re standing, I can only see more fields ahead. Crops and more crops and more crops. There’s barely any sound either, if not for a low whirring noise and the chirping of birds. Compared to this, even a small city like Roseberg seems as loud as a club in Mayfield, and I’m not used to this level of silence.

Crazy to think all of this is Logan’s place of work.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, and I only notice I said it out loud because he turns to me.

“Yeah, it is,” he says with a sad sigh. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s gone to a dark place. Probably, that same place he went to last night, causing him a panic attack.

A lock of dark hair falls in front of his face with a gust of wind, and I guess since we’re sort of talking, I should thank him for this morning. “What you did with Chloe was?—”

“Not a big deal.”

He keeps staring ahead, so I nod, but itwasa big deal. She was about to drop me, and he totally damsel-in-distressed me. “It was to me.”

He shrugs. “So, did you get the job?”

“Yes. She asked me to send her the recipe I’d like to start with so they can approve it even before I start. So... I’ll have to decide what to submit.”

He doesn’t say a word, but stares at me with the utmost focus, so I continue, “She said I have full creative control—to go nuts. But should I go with something safe? Because my bubble gum fudge never fails to go viral.” I hum. “Or maybe they expect something bold. A big company like that, they must see basic stuff all the time.”

When he says nothing, I twist my neck to check his expression.

“Okay?” he offers.

“Pickle-flavored taffy,” I explain. “That’s a bold flavor. Either you love it, or you hate it.”

“Pickle-flavored...what?” His chin jerks back. “I hate it. I don’t need to try it; I just know.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What else?” He walks, and quickly, I follow after him. “What otherbold flavorsdid you inflict on the world?”

“Jalapeño lime hard candy.”

“You’re joking.”

“Sriracha chocolate.”

He huffs out a laugh as I manage to join his side, and noticing my struggle to keep up with his impossibly long legs, he adjusts his stride.

“Well, what’s your favorite candy?”

“I don’t eat candy,” he says in a harsh voice. “Not since I turned twelve and went vegan. Candy is filled with gelatine, carmine—all sorts of animal-derived crap.”

“Notallof it,” I correct.

“No, not all of it, but most.”

Fair enough.

“Well, I make vegan candy. It’s kind of my specialty.” I raise a hand to stop him when his cocks a brow. “Notvegan— just...candy for people who can’t have candy.”

With his pace slowing down, he shoves both hands in his pockets. “What does that mean?”

“That candy should be enjoyed by everyone, including vegans, people with dental issues, IBS, allergies, high blood sugar...” I roll my wrist. “You get it.”

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