“Tell us more—”
“—the stock options for early investors—”
“—and in terms of marketing, how are you planning to account for—”
“—flavors does it come in?”
Hunter and I swept them away, answering their questions as we guided them towards our booth.
We left Chuck behind, the smirk wiped off his face, gaping like a fish left stranded on the shore.
#
We thought the booth had been busy before, but as we neared it now, we saw Martha’s arms windmilling in a blur, desperately trying to keep the booth stocked in the face of the mob that had descended upon her, desperate for the free samples and only slightly less interested in the business plan. People spotted us and began to push towards us, shouting to make themselves heard above the rest:
“I run a small distributing company with good connections in the Georgia area, I can—”
“—completely free all week if you’d like to speak about a substantial investment—”
“—I’d like to stock this in my supermarkets, if you’ll just meet with the board—”
Meanwhile, another mass of people couldn’t have been pried away from the table of free samples with a crowbar. I passed a journalist, caught a glimpse of some notes she’d dashed off on her tablet: bold yet earthy, full-bodied, flavorful, sweet.
Someone else shoved a microphone into Hunter’s face: “Mr. Knox! How are you planning on staffing this new venture? Will it continue to be a one-man operation?”
“Well, it hasn’t been a one-man operation for quite some time now,” Hunter said with a friendly grin. “In fact, you folks wouldn’t be enjoying this fine beverage today if it weren’t for the efforts of a small team, foremost among them these two ladies here.”
He indicated Martha and me with a sweep of his arm, and Martha threw a hand on her hip and flashed a megawatt smile at the camera, probably imagining her future fame as a bourbon-beer goddess and all the pretty new boys it would bring her.
“But to answer your question, no, this won’t remain a small operation for long. I’ve recently come into some money—” he winked at me—“that will allow me to rehire my entire team from Knox Liquors, should they wish to join me in this new venture. Nobody will be losing their job today!”
Cheers drowned out the rest of the questions and answers, and camera flashes erupted like fireworks.
Past the glare of one, I saw Chuck looking on in dismay, his face slowly registering the fact that he had overpaid for shares that would soon be dropping like Sherlock Holmes off the Reichenbach Falls.
I gave him a sweet little wave and giggled, warm satisfaction filling me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Today was shaping up to be a perfect day.
#
“Need any help finishing up?”
“Nah, I’ve got just about the last of it.” I chucked the last box of empty bottles into the back of Hunter’s car, the Rolls that Martha loved best. “There. All set.”
He grinned, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “Well, I do believe this calls for a celebration.” He offered me a bottle of the beer. “If you’re not sick of it yet, that is.”
“That’s about as likely as me getting sick of you,” I shot back, and took a long, refreshing draught.
We sat down together on the trunk of the car, passing the bottle back and forth in silence for awhile, savoring the feel of our bodies at rest against each other.
“So,” I said finally, leaning back into his shoulder. “I’d say today was a success. What about you? Did you cross everything off your list you wanted to say and do?”
“Almost,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “There’s just one thing I haven’t said yet. But I’m hoping to cross that off very soon.” And then he leaned into me, his lips pressed against my hair, and whispered: “I love you.”
Time stopped. The world ceased to turn. Fireworks burst above my head, cannons roared, angels sang.
Tears pricked in my eyes.
“Ally?” His voice was concerned now, verging on panicked. “Ally, are you all right?”
I leapt into his arms, twining my legs around him, cupping his face in my hands, his stubble scraping slightly against my fingers. “Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man.” His eyes were so wide and worried. I kissed each eyelid, and his nose, and his cheeks, and his lips. The tears were streaming down my face now, and I was laughing, and I was smiling, and I was happier than I could ever remember being. “I’m all right. I’m more than all right. I—oh, Hunter, I love you too!”
Relief washed over his face and he pressed me to him, our foreheads touching as we shook with joy and the release of our long-held tension.
“Never let me go,” I whispered against his stubbled cheek.