Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(23)

“So does he propose right there on the docks?”

“Of course he did. He’d just heard the voice of God. Wouldn’t you?”

I laughed. “What did she say?”

“She said no, of course, but in the ensuing conversation, he did learn her name and where she lived. Now he’s even more ecstatic because he’s at the Fishtown docks that very day waiting for a boat to ferry him over to South Manitou Island, which is a self-contained, self-sustaining agricultural society. He thinks his rye would have a chance to grow purely there. All he needs is a farmer to try it, and he finds one.”

“Let me guess—Rebecca’s dear old dad.”

“Exactly. Undeterred by her refusal of his offer of marriage, Jacob asks permission to accompany her back to the island and meet her father. She agrees.”

Looking out over the water toward the island, I imagine Jacob and Rebecca on a ferry much like this one, heading for their future together. “So how does he convince George to grow the rye?”

“Well, George wasn’t really a farmer. He’d been a sailor, which was how he wound up on South Manitou—steamer ships used to put in there to fuel up with wood for their boilers. Back in those days, the Manitou Passage was a critical spot in the journey for ships traveling on the Great Lakes. South Manitou had an important lifesaving station and lighthouse to help prevent the shipwrecks that were all too common in those days due to high traffic, unpredictable weather, and the underwater landscape.”

I nodded, remembering some of this from being on the island with Sylvia and my dad. “I think there’s still a shipwreck visible from the beach. Like sticking out of the water.”

“There is. We’ll see it today on our hike. So George decided lumbering sounded better than being a sailor, and he decided to stay on South Manitou and settle down on the booming little island. But when the ships started to burn coal, the lumber business there died. He turned to farming, mostly to keep his family fed.”

“He had kids?”

Oliver nodded. “Rebecca was the oldest of five. Well, Jacob must have been a good salesman, because he convinces George to turn over twenty acres to Feldmann rye, and he persuades Rebecca to marry him. He moves onto the island, builds a cabin, and helps George with the planting.”

“And does it grow?”

“It does. Turns out the island’s light, sandy soil is perfect for rye. They’re so successful, in fact, that they persuade the other six farmers on the island to grow nothing but Feldmann rye, as it came to be called. And to this very day, it’s the only place in the country where it grows.”

“Really?” I glanced at him in surprise.

“Mmhm.” Oliver looked smug. “And no one has made whiskey from it in almost a century.”

My insides were jumping. I saw where Oliver was going with this. “But we will,” I said before I even stopped to think.

He nodded. “We will.”

Overcome with excitement, my creative brain kicking into high gear, I grabbed his hand. “Oliver, this could be incredible! Do you realize what we have? I mean, not only the potential to make a really good whiskey, but something even better—something that would help us stand out in a crowded market. We have a heritage rye, made from seeds brought here a hundred years ago by a Russian immigrant! We have the American Dream in a bottle! We have marketing gold!”

He squeezed my hand. “We have a story.”

I met his eyes. “We have a story.”





10





Oliver





THEN



Normally, I tried to get out of going to the Cloverleigh Christmas party with my parents, but this year I gladly jumped in the car for the two-hour drive down from Harbor Springs.

It was the craziest thing—I couldn’t think of another time I’d been this excited to see anybody, let alone Chloe Sawyer. We hadn’t spoken in more than two months … since that unbelievable night in my dorm room.

Sometimes, when I thought about it—usually right before I jerked off—I wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. But then I’d remember watching her strip off her sweater. Then her shirt. I’d hear her explaining to me why she wanted me to fuck her but not call her. I’d remember the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice telling me to take her pants off.

I’d recall how good it felt to get inside her and know that I was her first, that she wanted me to be the first. Somehow it had felt like my first time too, even though it wasn’t.

I remembered that feeling afterward, foreign and familiar at the same time, because it was Chloe I couldn’t get enough of. I wanted more.

But she’d been fucking silent afterward. Had she enjoyed it? She’d had an orgasm, hadn’t she? It was too hard to tell with girls sometimes. I got distracted and lost control so easily.

But I’d tried not to go too fast. I’d wanted her to enjoy it, even if she was only doing it to cross “lose virginity” off her list. In all honesty, I’d thought her plan was pretty fucking stupid and figured she was eventually going to regret it and blame me for everything, but I still hadn’t been able to stop myself from doing it. Not only because I was eighteen and obsessed with sex, but because it was her. Chloe wasn’t just hot, she did something to me. I had no idea why or what. But ever since she’d walked away from me on prom night, I’d been thinking about her. It drove me crazy that she didn’t want me.