Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(106)

“Right.” I paused. “What’s this about? Do you need a kidney or something?”

He smiled. “No. I was just thinking that I’m really lucky to have you in my life. No matter what happens with the business, I hope you know you can always come to me if you need something. I’ll always be there for you.”

A little shiver moved up my spine. “Thanks. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I mean it. I know our friendship hasn’t exactly been conventional, or even consistent, but I care about you, Chloe.”

“You do?” Who the hell was this guy? He didn’t sound at all like the Oliver I knew. It was disorienting and highly suspicious—but … it was nice too.

“Yeah. You cross my mind all the time.”

“Well, thanks. I care about you too.” I hesitated before going on. “I’ve spent years being angry with you, and it feels nice to let that go.”

The smile he gave me was sweet and boyish. It made my stomach do quick, fluttery things, and I had to look away.

“So what do you say we continue on?” he suggested. “Maybe sit on the beach a little to dry off, eat something, and then head inland?”

“Sounds good.”

We made our way back to the sand and sat down to let the sun and warm breeze dry us off. We ate our sandwiches and chatted a little more about the rye, about what buildings we’d need at Cloverleigh and where they might go, how many people we might have to hire, when all of this might happen, how expensive it would be.

“I’m sorry I don’t have money to invest,” I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “But I could look into getting a loan if that would help us.”

“Leave the money to me,” he said confidently. “We won’t have to deal with loans or banks.”

After getting dressed and applying another layer of bug spray and sunscreen—I would be glad when I finally got a real shower—we slipped our packs on our backs again. Retracing our steps back along the trail the way we’d come, we took a left after passing the shipwreck. The trail leading inland cut across the island’s center and took us past Florence Lake, the ruins of an old cabin, and the one-room schoolhouse where Rebecca Hofstadt Feldmann had taught, complete with a bell on top. We left the trail to peek in the windows, but they were boarded up.

“What do you think of naming the whiskey after her?” I suggested as we continued on. “Rebecca’s Rye.”

“Rebecca’s Rye.” Oliver thought for a moment. “I like it. It has a nice, alliterative ring to it. I wonder if she had brown eyes.”

“I bet we can find out. Maybe the Feldmanns will even have a photograph of her,” I said excitedly. “Although it would for sure be in black and white. But if it’s good, maybe we could even use it on the label. With the family’s permission, of course.”

“We can ask. I like the idea.” He elbowed me playfully. “Are we partners yet?”

I sighed. “I suppose we are.”

“Finally! I was starting to get worried.”

“Really?”

“Truth? Nah. I knew you’d come around.”

I elbowed him back. “When we get back home, Oliver, we need a contract laying out exactly how this partnership is going to work. I don’t want to work for you, I want to work with you. We’re equals in this, and we both bring value to the table.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “We’ll work it out. Do you want to become a partner in Brown Eyed Girl Spirits? Or would you prefer to form a new LLC for anything produced at Cloverleigh?”

I stopped walking and grabbed his arm, making him face me. “You’d bring me on as a partner in Brown Eyed Girl?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He hesitated. “That’s what I want.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I shouldn’t have done it without you in the first place. And I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry for that. Brown Eyed Girl was always supposed to be our thing. I was wrong to do it alone.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s named for you. You should be part of it.”

Meeting his eyes, I wondered if he, like me, was thinking of the night he came up with the name. My pulse started to race.

“Say yes, Chloe,” he urged. “Let’s do everything together.”

But I couldn’t say anything at that moment. All I could do was stare at Oliver’s mouth and think about what a good kisser he was. I felt hot and dizzy, assaulted by memories of being skin to skin with him, his body moving over mine. My vision started to cloud as his words circled through my head.

Let’s do everything together.

I took a step back. I’d been at this crossroads before and made the wrong choice. I couldn’t get swept away again. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“Great. When we get to Detroit, I’ll set up a meeting with my financial advisor, and we’ll make it official on paper.” He offered a hand. “Partners in everything?”

I put my hand in his and shook it, wishing I could blame the heat for the erratic way my heart was beating. “Partners in everything.”





We made it to the Feldmann farm by about six-thirty and knocked on the front door of the house—an old, weather-beaten, two-story structure with flaking white paint, a sagging front porch, and a black-shingled roof. Our knock was answered by a stout, pot-bellied guy whose bushy beard was about half gray. He wore a yellow T-shirt advertising a charter fishing business in Wisconsin, and his skin was ruddy from years in the sun.