Page 7 of Peyton

CHAPTER7

Chloe

More bees with sugar? Was Peyton Manos deliberately baiting me? Of course he was, and it worked. I couldn’t help but correct him. I looked down the line of entrepreneurs operating a hut this summer. I wasn’t surprised to see Peyton show up seconds before the opening ceremony.

I noticed Peyton’s family had come to support him.

Peyton’s mom always insisted I call her Haley. Her family and friends had been supporting Catherine’s Sweet Treats since I was only a child passing out free samples. I had to stand on a chair to reach over the counter. I wondered if that support would now go to her son and his Shake Shack.

God, I needed to stop rolling my eyes every time I say that name, Shake Shack.

I’d often wished my parents would make an effort to attend at least one opening ceremony in all the years I’d assisted Aunt Catherine. I thought perhaps they would last summer, knowing that I was attempting this venture without her. But I knew better than to get my hopes up.

They never RSVPed to attend the graduation ceremony when I completed my final year of college. Instead, I got a bouquet with a polite note of congratulations and a check with an ungodly sum. How could I, their only child, possibly compete with their rewarding careers?

They should have saved a tree and not bothered with the check. I’d never spend the amount I inherited from Aunt Catherine.

And now, instead of smiling and being excited about today, I’m scowling. And it’s all Peyton Manos’ fault. It wasn’t that he opened a hut that was in direct competition with me. I’d often thought the boardwalk could benefit from having more than one place that served cold treats. No, my discontent was with the man himself.

I had no valid reason to dislike Peyton. Except for the glue incident, he was never outwardly mean to me. That honor had always gone to Nancy, which frustrated the hell out of me. Guilt by association.

I wanted to hate him. I really did. But Peyton had to return to Tranquility looking like a Greek god. I was no longer a little girl looking for acceptance. I was a red-blooded woman, and I wasn’t immune to his hotness.

On second thought, I did have an excellent reason to dislike Peyton Manos. He stole my recipe.

The crowd applauded, and I realized I had missed the mayor’s speech. She gave the same one every year, so I wasn’t concerned I missed anything important.

Until I heard her call my name.

I smiled and stepped beside her. I prayed she hadn’t asked me something. How embracing it would be to falter in front of the enemy. But then, the mayor called Peyton Manos to join us.

“We have a friendly competition between Catherine’s Sweet Treats and Shake Shack.” I stared blankly at the audience. “I see the tweets are already pouring in.”

I quickly whipped out my cell and opened the Twitter app. The one where I posted my tweet about Peyton and his sugar shack. OMG. What had I started? I expected people to see the tweets, but the responses were nothing I could have imagined.

I bit my lip to prevent a giggle from escaping. After all, we were still standing in front of the large crowd that had gathered to take part in the opening of the boardwalk. I returned my cell to my back pocket. Then, I did a side glance to find Peyton smirking while reading the same tweets I had. Then I saw his thumbs fly across the screen on his phone.

My cell pinged.

Peyton looked my way, wearing that cocksure grin I wanted to kiss off his face. No, wait, I want to wipe it off his face.

I abstained from checking what he wrote. But from the snickers and giggles from the bystanders who had read it, I wouldn’t like it.

As soon as the mayor announced the boardwalk officially opened, I headed to my hut, unlocked the door, and turned my sign to open.

Then I promptly checked what Peyton Manos tweeted.

Catherine’s treats might be sweet, but its owner could do with a bit of sugar. #ShakeShack#SugarShack.

I wanted to retaliate, but I didn’t have time to continue this Twitter war. I had customers to serve. And I had to come up with a fitting rebuttal to Peyton’s last tweet.

It was nonstop for the next forty-five minutes. Socializing was as much part of this job as selling ice cream. The Tiger Stripes was a hit. I was afraid I would run out before the end of the day. I had hoped I made enough for the weekend, but I would be spending my evening recreating the delicious treat.

When things slowed down, I pulled out my cell. Should I respond to Peyton’s sarcastic dig or should I be the bigger woman and keep it professional?

Was it too much to hope that milkshakes needed artificial flavoring? I didn’t use any, and suggesting Peyton did was petty and childish. But that didn’t stop me from posting my tweet.

Successful start to the season. Customers lined out the door. #Natural Home Made Goodness For The Win. No preservatives or food coloring.

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