Page 30 of The Love Audit
The table fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the shuffling of cards and the occasional clink of a glass. I felt a pang of guilt. Here I was, pretending to be someone else, competing for a job to please Edward Mason, a man who would likely never fully understand or respect what this community represented.
“So, Derek.” Geoffrey broke the silence and gave me a sly grin. “How’s married life treating you?”
The question caught me off guard, and I nearly choked on my whiskey. “Oh, you know.” I scrambled for a response. “Ups and downs. Just like any marriage.”
The men laughed, clearly amused by my discomfort but not fully understanding its source. “Better watch out,” Bubba said. “Jasmine looks like the type who doesn’t play around. She’ll have you sleeping on the couch if you mess up.”
I let out an involuntary chuckle that was a genuine reaction toBubba’s statement. He had no idea how on the money his assessment of mine and Jasmine’s relationship was.
“She’s…” I hesitated, unsure how much to say without giving myself away. “She’s definitely… strong-willed.”
Roger smirked. “Translation: she’s got him wrapped around her finger.”
The table erupted in laughter again, and I couldn’t help but join in, even as my cheeks burned. The truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. Jasmine had a way of getting under my skin and keeping me on my toes. And lately, pretending to be her husband had started to feel less like a charade and more like… something else. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
David dealt another hand, and we settled back into the game. I glanced at my cards and suppressed a groan. A pair of fives. Not exactly a winning hand, but I’d learned quickly that poker in Miller’s Cove wasn’t just about the cards. It was about reading the room, catching the banter, and knowing when to bluff.
“So, Derek.” Eric leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in market research,” I replied carefully, sticking to the truth as much as possible. “Jasmine and I are working on a project together.”
“Work and pleasure, huh?” David remarked. “Could be a dangerous mix, but it works well for me and Eleanor.” He smiled.
“What kind of project?” Roger asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Just, uh, analyzing trends and demographics. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds boring as hell.” Bubba earned another round of laughter.
“It can be,” I admitted, “but it pays the bills.”
“Well, you’d better hope it pays well.” Geoffrey eyed the growing pile of chips in the center of the table. “Because if you keep winning like this, we’re gonna need a rematch next week.”
I grinned, feeling a surge of confidence despite my terrible hand. “Deal me in.”
As the night wore on, the conversation shifted between lighthearted jabs and deeper discussions about the town’s history. I learned about the annual Founders’ Day picnic, the reverence the community has for firefighters, efforts to preserve historic buildings, and the local legends that gave Miller’s Cove its unique charm. By the time we played the last hand, I felt like I’d gained not just a better understanding of the town but a deepening respect for the men around the table.
“All right, gentlemen.” David gathered the cards and chips. “Same time next week?”
There was a chorus of agreements as we stood and stretched. Bubba clapped me on the back. “You’re all right, Derek. For a New York City boy.”
“Thanks, Bubba.” I smiled despite myself. “You’re not so bad, either.”
As I stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of the evening settled over me. The laughter and camaraderie of the poker game had been a welcome distraction, but the stories of Miller’s Cove’s founders lingered in my mind. Those men had risked everything to create a safe haven for their families, and their descendants were still fighting to keep that dream alive.
And here I was, a stranger with secrets, pretending to belongwhile working to derail everything Pike, Hodge, and Walker sacrificed to build. For the first time in a long time, I wondered if the job I was chasing was worth the cost.
I never thought I’d wake up before sunrise to spend the day grinding wheat, but then again, I’d never been to Miller’s Cove before. The town was charming in a “too perfect to be real” kind of way, but it was also full of surprises. Like David Pike. The man had the confidence of someone who knew every last detail about you before you even shook his hand. And now, for reasons I still wasn’t clear on, I was spending the day at his water mill.
The air was cool, the sun barely making its debut as I trudged toward the old wooden structure on the edge of the stream. The mill itself looked like something out of a storybook—weathered but sturdy, with a giant waterwheel creaking rhythmically in the current. David was already there, predictably chipper, dressed in overalls and a plaid shirt like he’d stepped out of a farmer’s calendar. You would never guess he had a near-genius IQ and held a handful of advanced degrees. However, I was quickly learning that looks could be deceiving. I only had to look back at my time spent with Jasmine to learn that.
“Morning, Derek!” he called, waving a hand that held a steaming mug of coffee. “Ready to make yourself useful?”
“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in,” I replied, yawning for effect. “But sure. Let’s grind some wheat or whatever we’re doing here.”
David chuckled. “Oh, it’s more than ‘whatever.’ You’re about tolearn the fine art of milling. We don’t just grind wheat here—we perfect it.”
“Can’t wait.” I tried to muster enthusiasm, hoping my exhaustion wouldn’t be perceived as boredom.
