Page 204 of Spicy Ever After
He goes silent for a moment. I do too because I’m still thinking about the impossible outcome of Beck losing his farm. He can’t lose his farm. There has to be another?—
“When are you coming home?” The question startles me because for the first time since I picked up the phone, I hear hunger in his voice.
“Friday.”
“What time? I want to be the one to pick you up from the airport.”
My heart does a little jumping jack. “You do?!”
“Hell, yes, I do.”
I bite my bottom lip. “You’re not still angry with me?”
Beck makes a kind of strangled growl. “Hattie… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still pissed… hurt… whatever. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.” His voice is rough with emotion. “I’d sell a kidney to see you.”
The heart in my chest pounds like I’ve been running. Suddenly, Friday is too fucking far away.
“Let me check with the airline. Maybe I can fly home Thursday instead.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BECK
I’m pacing outside of security at the Lafayette Regional Airport, waiting for Hattie’s flight to land, when my phone rings.
It’s Griffin.
I should’ve guessed.
I answer. “Hey.”
“I can’t believe you won’t let us help you,” Grif launches in. “That you’d rather sell everything than let us pitch in.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. “Putting a second mortgage on your house is not pitching in, Grif. It’s risking your home along with ours. I won’t do it.”
Of all the possible negative outcomes, this one’s the worst. That we’ll hit a hard patch, I’ll default on the loans, and we’ll lose everything.
All of us.
It fucking scares the hell out of me.
I can’t be the one to risk the homes and fortunes of the rest of my family. No way.
“Beck, if you do what I think you’re going to do with your vodka business, Kennedy and I stand to make money, not lose it.”
He sounds so sure.
Meanwhile I’m sure of nothing.
“Grif, I’d have to borrow even more to get the distillery off the ground. It’s too much.” I shake my head. “It’s too risky. And I don’t see any other way. I really don’t. Selling to Steadman is the only path that makes sense.”
Grif groans in frustration. “There has to be something else we can do. Have you thought about crowdsourcing?”
Honestly, I have thought of crowdsourcing. But when I think about asking the world at-large for that kind of money, I want to scrape off my skin. How could I dare?
“It’s too much, Grif. Seriously, I could never raise that kind of money just by asking for it.”
“So don’t try to raise all of it,” my brother argues. “Just try to raise what you need for the distillery. We can?—”
