Page 1 of On The Rocks

Chapter 1

Lennon

The Hot Honey Life

Gravel popped and tinked against the undercarriage of my Jeep as I turned into the orchard’s main entrance.

A barn owl in mid-flight spread across the Brothers Three Orchard sign. The vintage Happy Acres sign had been relegated to the bottom of the massive, handcrafted statement piece. A firm statement that the Manning brothers were keeping in tradition with their parents and grandparents’ legacy, but truly setting off in a new direction.

The barn owl logo echoed through the storefronts that dotted the main road. The brothers had repurposed and renovated the old buildings built through the forty years since Happy Acres had been formed.

An old apple barn had become the hub of Laverne Ronson’s creations. Jarred, freeze-dried, and fresh versions of every variety of apple you could think of were paired with fresh-baked goods made with their homegrown fruits and vegetables.

Laverne was the matriarch of the orchard. She and her husband Fred had started the evolution of Happy Acres orchard into more than just the apples. They had expanded the orchard to include lodging, eateries, and shops.

The Mannings were responsible for the trees and the growing. Christopher and Sarah Manning had built up the orchards alongside the Ronsons, creating a family unit that shared the space.

But now their sons had taken the lead on the next iteration of the orchard, which had become the Brothers Three Orchard. Beckett, Hayes, and Justin had taken the reins of the company.

Beckett was technically my boss. He’d added a taproom to the orchard’s legacy to show off their hard ciders and spirits made from the apples they harvested. I was the head bartender during the in-season time at Brothers Three.

I’d been away for most of the winter, since Central New York became little more than snow and ice as the orchard slipped into hibernation.

Behind the scenes, plenty was still running strong. Hayes, the head of the spirits’ creation would be playing in his laboratory, while the orchard slept under snow.

Justin and Beckett were more hands-on in the orchard’s various businesses. Most were shuttered up during the winter because people didn’t come out to an orchard when the snow deterred most from travel.

Add in the rural roads and Turnbull, the small town where Brothers Three was located, became quite inhospitable to tourists in any fashion in the less weather-friendly months.

Which left little for me to do here off-season. It had actually been the lure, since it allowed me to stretch my wings with jobs outside of the orchard. I’d worked my ass off to become a highly regarded flair bartender. The bold, acrobatic, and showy style I’d made my signature meant I could live my entire life as a guest bartender at many of the most famous bars in places like Miami, Vegas, and Los Angeles. Not to mention, the private parties which padded my bank account nicely

And yet, the moment I’d rolled onto this property two seasons ago, the orchard had felt more like home than anything ever had in my entire life.

The manager of the Brothers Three Taproom, Kira Parrish, had tempted me in with the offer of carte blanche to run the bar as I saw fit. While I’d lived a wild life of traveling for the last ten years, I was essentially a hired gun.

I had no control over the bars I guested at other than my flair techniques. While that allowed me to rake in plenty of money, the fun aspect had been waning for a lot longer than I wanted to admit.

I’d had one goal for as long as I could remember.

My own bar.

And now I had many decisions to make.

But I still had some time to puzzle out my future—not much time, but for now, I could concentrate on my role here at the orchard. I rolled by the café, which was still closed for the season, and slowed as I neared the Lodge. It had formerly been a bed and breakfast, evolving like the rest of the orchard to become a jewel of the property. Now it was open all year-round for weddings and large gatherings.

From the state of the parking lot, I assumed a wedding was going on in the beautiful chapel on-site. Instead of checking in with my friends who ran the event planning arm, I kept on moving.

I followed the winding road that led to the taproom and concert stage. There were a surprising number of cottages mid-build since the last time I’d been here in November.

Some were old homes intended for people who worked at the orchard, and others were repurposed buildings used for harvest before the Mannings had modernized the orchard.

I swiveled my neck to stare when a large crane pulled an obviously damaged tree from the land. The buzz of power toolsand chainsaws, along with shouts, had me hitting the gas to get up the newly paved road with the quickness. I didn’t need a tree crashing into my baby.

I checked my rearview mirror, picking out Justin and Beckett Manning in the middle of it all.

Another addition to the orchard? I guess I’d find out.

At the top of the hill, the Brothers Three Taproom came into view. It was a converted barn that had been expanded upon with a wraparound deck that gleamed in the sunlight.

---