Page 3 of Unlikely You

“See you tomorrow,” she called to me as she shoved the kids toward the door.

Ugh, I guess I’d have to.

Arson wasinconsolable when I arrived home, but that was nothing new.

“Oh my god, I’m going to trip over you one day and fall down and die and then who’s going to feed you?” I asked as she wrapped herself around my legs and screamed her head off.

I set everything down and leaned down to pet her.

“Yes, yes, I missed you too. Even though you’re so loud. Please stop being so loud.” She answered by screaming again.

I filled her bowl and watched as she acted like she had never eaten in her life. I’d found her wandering outside a house that had burned down and been abandoned and she was orange, so naturally I had to name her Arson. She lived up to the name, adding other petty crimes to her rap sheet every single day.

Arson was an absolute pain in the ass, but I loved her anyway. Maybe even loved her more because of it. That cat didn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Not even me.

Once I fed the orange demon, I sorted out my own dinner, throwing some chicken tenders in the air fryer and tossing a frozen bag of pasta, sauce, and veggies into a pan and throwing it all together in a big bowl. Good enough.

Once I was no longer ravenous, I put my hair up into a messy bun and checked my emails and comments on social media. I did my best not to be on my phone during the days when I was at the marketplace. Seeing a salesperson with their eyes glued to their phone wasn’t a good look.

So that meant I had a million things to do when I got home and all I wanted to do was nothing. This job was still better than working in corporate arguing for hours about two different nearly identical sans serif fonts for the new website. Never again.

I waded through as much as I could stand before making myself a cup of tea, soaking in the tub for a while, and then curling up on the couch with Arson and a new ebook that I’d been saving. It was only a matter of time before I passed out and had to drag myself to bed, but as long as I could keep my eyes open, I was going to read.

Wild Saturday night.

They were singing againon Sunday. It was a good thing I wasn’t hormonal or else I might have said something not so nice. But I was just my regular annoyed self, so I clenched my teeth and did my best to block it out with my headphones and another podcast.

Could they just…not? For one day?

Honey was her radiant self, as always. Hair in a perfect ponytail, her Holloway Apiary T-shirt fitting her curves perfectly. No one should look that good in a generic T-shirt. Maybe she’d tailored it to fit her curves. Her shorts certainly were designed to make her generous hips and thighs drive me to distraction.

It wasn’t fair to have all of that so close to me for so many hours in a day.

I had to keep my eyes on my own table and focus. I wasn’t going to make any money ogling the beautiful beekeeper.

Chapter Two

Honey

She looked tired today.I wanted so much to just go over and bring her a cup of tea, but past experiences told me she’d reject it.

The kids were being especially ornery today, and I wished that Mom or Dad would take them home, to be honest. Their passion for helping with the family business lasted about an hour and then all they wanted was to be hanging out with their friends, or playing games, or literally anywhere else but the marketplace, with the exception of Ellie, who was my main helper.

It was hard keeping them entertained, but at least they were well-behaved. Sure, Ember wore a perpetual frown and glared at people most of the day, but Ellie and Archer were willing to help me keep things going. Mom and Dad would hang out for a few hours and be present, but every day they’d wander off to go chat with one of the other vendors or they’d need to be back on the farm for tours or classes or to tend things.

I always told myself the best part of working for a family business was getting to work with your family. The worst part of working for a family business was getting to work with your family.

Since I was the oldest by eight years, it meant that someone had to hold everything together. Someone had to make sure we ordered enough jars and that we had enough inventory and to take care of pesky things like “taxes” and “licensing” and the rest of the hurdles you had to jump to run a profitable business.

I loved my parents, so much, but they were so much better at being on the farm and managing the bees than here at the marketplace trying to sell anything. I’d told them that I could manage the table by myself, but they always said that we did everything as a family, so we were doing this together or not at all. Yet more often than not, I was doing it all by myself.

“Pleaseeee can I go hang out with Harper and Olivia and Kyra? Harper said she’d pick me up,” Ember said, looking up from her phone.

We’d opened an hour ago and since the weather was gorgeous, it was a slow morning. We tended to do best when the weather was cloudy or rainy, causing people to seek indoor activities instead of going out on a boat or to the beach or the pier.

“They’re going to the beach andeveryoneis going to be there,” Ember said with all the intensity of someone who is sixteen. I remembered being that age so well.

I sighed. If I didn’t let her go, she’d be in a snit for the rest of the day and I didn’t want to deal with another sulky teenager.

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