Status Updates From Grumpily Ever After (Stick ...

It was never like this. Never so good. It never made me feel like the earth was spinning, yet everything once askew was righted all at once.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he grabs a glass and sticks it under the Neutral Zone tap.

“Cartwheels. What the hell does it look like I’m doing? Getting us drinks.”

Despite what most people think about the Pacific Northwest, the summer tends to be sunny and dry. We haven’t been hit like this in a while.

Thunderstorms are rare here—we lack sufficient humidity—but when they happen, they cause significant damage because people are unprepared.

Do you think Peaches names all her kittens after food? Is that like a thing because she’s named after food?

“Noah! Stop threatening to eat your pets!”

“She’s not a pet.”

“She has a name. She’s a pet.”

It’s just a basic lunch, but everyone knows sandwiches are better when someone else makes them. Just like they’re always better with pickles.

~~~~~

“You don’t like pickles?”

“Unless they are battered and fried, no.”

“Besides, kids will love it. You could even put scarecrow or something behind wheel. Dress it up to match holidays. Like big, cute eyelashes and heart eyes for headlights for Valentine’s Day.” “Absolutely no to eyelashes and heart eyes.” Dammit. I knew I’d pushed it too far. “But rest?” I ask. He grunts, but it’s not no. In fact, I can tell he actually likes idea, since he doesn’t argue further.

I’m right about keeping tractor and moving it to side of barn won’t look tacky. And it won’t make you look like you’re trying to play Old MacDonald either. You’re paying homage to original purpose of land, like you’re paying homage to your love of game by naming cidery Stick Taps, giving hockey term names to your ciders, and your decor—even if it is hideous for weddings.” He narrows his eyes at dig.

I have no idea how Noah takes his coffee, but black seemed appropriate, given his usual demeanor. It matches his soul and all.

~~~~~

“Chocolate banana?”

A brow lifts. “Would it [fritter] be anything else?”

Leave it to Noah to be so overbearing this early in the morning. He’s always played the big brother role to a T. If only he knew that I’ve had thoughts about him that certainly aren’t brotherly at all.

I heard rumors that time existed in the morning, but I’ve never seen it before. Sleeping until nine or ten is a luxury I’ve afforded myself since starting my business, and I’ve taken advantage of that as often as I can.

The sun is barely up, so things are still calm, but if I give it thirty minutes, the place will be buzzing. Port Harbor might be small, but it’s mighty. The townsfolk are always out and about, supporting the local shops. We take pride in backing up our own.

“It’s not that I don’t like mushrooms. They don’t like me. Allergic, remember?”

Ezra knows that better than I do, being raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to make ends meet. Training centers like the one we’re trying to create are what got him to the NHL.

We want to buy it, renovate it, and offer free ice time and training to low-income families. Maybe even run a special training camp out of it in the summer.

although she’s five foot eight, she’s still short compared to my six-foot-four frame.

There’s no way I’d ever think I could be better than her just because I’m a man.

Noah Stevens.

~~~~~

“I’m extremely handy, thank you very much.”

“Yes, you look it with your Jimmy Choos and fresh manicure over there.”

“These are Manolo Blahniks, for your information.”

I’d be willing to bet she’d blame it all on the curse her family suffers from, and a part of me gets it. I’m a hockey player, so I understand superstitions better than most. Maybe it is a curse. Or perhaps she’s just letting it get inside her head. Either way, she’s in trouble.

forearms … My gosh, were they defined. Not just from all his years of playing hockey—thank you, stick handling exercises—but also from his labor around the farm and cidery.

I also have a contingency plan in case it rains—this is the Pacific Northwest, after all—

Peaches. She’s our resident hippie, and while she’s a hoot half the time, the last thing you can do is trust your bag around her. Not because she’ll rob you—she would never—but you can expect her to dump a cat in there. She has a hoard of them and always tries to get residents to adopt one. She slipped one in my bag six months ago while I was working on the Stewart wedding, which is how I got Beans.

We might be a small and close-knit community, but a few people here are just . . . odd. They don’t mingle well, to put it nicely.

Face Off … green apple cider,

Stick Taps’ bestselling cider, Neutral Zone, … semisweet apple-and-strawberry mixed cider.

As good as the cider is here, I must admit that the view is my favorite part of Stick Taps. It looks like something ripped right off a postcard.

My eyes immediately go to the barn, which looks like it has seen better days. Where some may see a lost cause, I see good bones.