Page 8 of Too Sweet

“They do?” Cooper asks.

“You guys own the Louisville Dragons,” Summer croons, mentioning the name of the professional baseball team.

“Yeah,” Cooper says. “We do. Where’s your friend, by the way?”

“We’re part owners,” I correct him. “Among other things.”

“But we can get you and your friend tickets. We have a reserved box,” my brother adds.

Cooper thinks I’m nuts. It would be far more lucrative to let people assume we’re sole owners of the Dragons. But I’m not about exaggerating things. I’m about cold, hard facts.

“Cool,” Summer says with disinterest in him while staring me up and down. “Anyway, here’s the pitch: When did you last go to one of those self-serve frozen yogurt parlors with your friends? Never, right? Because they’re for kids.”

“Yeah, those places are sticky and chaotic. No thank you,” I say.

By this time, Harmony, her friend in the semi-matching getup, strolls up.

“What’s going on? Why is he carrying you?” Harmony says, a little alarmed.

“I’m not letting her put weight on her ankle,” I say.

“This is a little over the top,” says her sister.

“As I was saying,” Summer continues. “What if I told you there was a place just like that, but for grown-ups? By day, Little Spoon is a next-level, family-friendly, self-serve gourmet fro-yo place with more homemade candy and cookie toppings than in Willy Wonka’s imagination. But after 6 p.m., it’s a date night hot spot.”

Cooper grunts in approval. “Sounds fun, but I need to hear more.”

Harmony is silent. We all look at her, and she swallows, glancing away nervously.

“Ah shit,” Cooper says. “I was trying to put you on the spot, Shark Tank-style, but that came out as aggressive. Please tell me more.”

My brother pleads, pressing his hands together. Harmony blushes.

Summer shifts in my arms, her bare midriff brushing against my ribs. She smells like a summer garden, and her bare legs are smooth and silky against my arm. My cock twitches even as my back strains. I don’t care if I throw my back out; I’m not putting her down.

Summer encourages her sister, making me fall for her even harder. “Go on, tell him all about it. Making it a date spot was your idea, Mastermind.”

I love that Summer didn’t take the credit for her shy sister.

Harmony tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, we’ll close at 5 p.m. and open back up at 7 p.m. with low lighting, candles, floral arrangements, live music, and all of our grown-up frozen cocktails.”

“Frocktails!” Cooper shouts, punching the air.

“Don’t make up words, it’s not your store,” I tell him, reining him in.

The girls exchange a glance, Harmony giggling. Cooper looks pleased.

“Anyway,” Summer says, her gaze drifting to my chest. I’m not terrible to look at, but I wish I’d spent more time at the gym now. “All of our cocktail desserts are made with top-shelf alcohol, and fresh local ingredients whenever possible.”

“And where is this place going to be? Rent for an independent brick-and-mortar shop in Gold Hill is a premium for an untested concept,” I say, already mentally crunching the numbers.

Summer and Harmony exchange another look.

“We know,” Harmony says. “That’s why it’s going to be in downtown Fate.”

This idea gets worse and worse.

These girls will make zero dollars in Fate. Zip. Zilch. They’ll be out of business in a year, guaranteed.

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