Page 49 of Spicy Ever After
This may be the best date of my life.
Chapter Seven
BECK
She’s even prettier than I remembered.
As if that were possible.
And she’s here—even though I nearly blew it.
Grif knew I was meeting someone, but I should’ve reminded him she was on her way. I had to go back to the truck for the second case of vodka, and I thought I’d only be a minute. But on the way back, I ran into Ms. Hanson, my high school 4-H sponsor, and when she asked about setting up a field trip to the farm for her current club, time got away from me.
When I got back to the stall to see Hattie bolting, my heart dropped into my boots.
But she’s here now. Letting me hold her hand.
No, not letting. Demanding that I hold it tight.
Damn.
She’s like a freshwater spring shooting up from the earth. The most natural thing in the world, yet still a surprise.
Beautiful. Mysterious. Goddamn refreshing.
Locking her hand in mine, I lead us back to the market. We snake through shoppers who push strollers, walk their dogs, and eat their kettle corn without looking where they’re going.
The line is five-deep at our booth, so I tug Hattie with me as I duck beneath the canopy. Smiling, Grif calls a distracted hey, but he’s ringing up a customer, and he’s been so busy, he hasn’t had a chance to open the case I brought back.
“Just give me a minute,” I tell Hattie, squeezing her hand tighter before letting go.
She looks from Griffin to me, nods tightly, and swings her gaze back to him.
And I’d be a liar if I said the move doesn’t take a swipe at my ego. But I shrug it off and pull four bottles from the crate—nearly the last case of my stash.
I blame Griffin.
And Javier.
But mostly Griffin.
Javier might have suggested we give away free samples today, but Griffin was the one who insisted. Who pushed until I had to give in.
And now the first ten bottles are gone—five of the original and five of the pecan and maple infused—leaving us with the two we opened for samples. Which is why I had to go back to the truck.
It was also my brother’s idea—after his third vodka and soda—to break out his laptop, open Canva, and “design” a label.
This brainchild put us at Walmart after ten o’clock last night, buying Avery shipping label paper.
Honestly, the end results aren’t terrible—for a last-minute, over-the-legal-limit effort: Olivier’s Organic Farm-to-Bottle Sweet Potato Vodka. For the original blend, Olivier’s is printed at the top of the orange label and Vodka near the bottom, both in a large, heavy sans serif font that seems to take itself seriously. And between those two words is the lighter but still distinct: Farm-to-Bottle Sweet Potato.
In lettering that looks like a stamp, he’s included the alcohol content, batch numbers: 001, a bottled-on date, and then, in tiny print: Distilled in Carencro, Louisiana.
I must admit, it looks legit.
The label for the pecan and maple infused blend is essentially the same, but instead of an orange background, the label is white with orange and brown lettering. Nothing fancy, but clear.
Maybe that’s why we’ve sold half of my stock already.
