“Oh. For that, you wanna ask Gabby. She’s been there a couple of times with Aspen.”
“Thanks, Emerson,” I say and slide out of the booth.
He picks up his paper and continues reading it, giving me a knowing “uh-huh” as I head to the kitchen.
I walk in and see Gabby. Her back is to me as she cooks a giant skillet of bacon. “Excuse me, Gabby? Good morning.” She turns around and smiles at me.
“Hi, Ryker. Aspen’s not here. She headed to the Cherry Festival.”
“I know,” I say and smile back. “That’s why I’m here.” I know Aspen’s close with her mom, so I decide to be honest and direct. “I upset Aspen the other night, and I need to apologize. I want to go to the Cherry Festival and find her. But I have no idea where to look. Can you help me?”
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment. “You know, Ryker, Aspen hasn’t said a lot to me about you, but every time she does, her face lights up somethin’ special.”
Hm. I guess she didn’t tell her mom what happened.
She turns back to stir her bacon. “So, you say you messed up, huh? Well, I gotta tell ya. I’m on Team Ryker, so I’m going to help you out.”
24
Aspen
The weather is pure golden sunshine and clear blue skies, as I bounce around the attractions and activities at the Cherry Festival. There are so many things I want to do, and for the first time in months, I’m taking calm, deep breaths. I’ve accomplished so much, and I finally have my bed-and-breakfast. I’m continuing the celebration here, in this amazing lakefront beach town with cherry orchards everywhere. I’m in cherry heaven.
It’s hard to be sad here.
Even if I am alone.
I’ve gotten used to my own company. And being at the Cherry Capital of the World all by myself suits me just fine. I can do the things I like best, like the cherry pit-spitting contest, the parade, and the cherry wine tents. After checking out the concerts, I’ll top off my night on the rooftop bar of Hotel Indigo, where I’m staying. I love having a drink and overlooking the Grand Traverse Bay, with all the sailboats.
I check into my room, which I reserved six months ago. I intend to make the most of the next twenty-four hours, as this is the last time I’m going to let loose and party for a long time. Come Monday, I’ll start a schedule of 16-hour days until we open The Rose. I freshen up and change into a red sundress, hoping it keeps me cool enough under the sun. I slather on sunblock and put on my sun hat.
I go into the bathroom and add my red lipstick. I check out my reflection, and happy with what I see, I use the toilet, grab a bottle of water, and sling my small purse across my chest. Time to go!
Six hours later, tired from the walking, the sun, and my excitement from running around the festival, I say goodbye to the Uber driver who drops me off at my hotel. I smile and think about how I accomplished everything on my Cherry Festival list, including buying five pounds of dried cherries and three bottles of cherry wine.
I take my treasures to my room and place them on the dresser. Then, I throw my hat in the closet and flop onto my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I tried not to think about Ryker, but he still popped into my head constantly. I miss him. I guess time will heal that. And beer. I step into the bathroom to freshen up before heading up to the rooftop bar.
I’m standing by the railing of the rooftop bar, drinking a Traverse City Cherry Wheat beer, as the sun, a ball of golden fire, sets over the bay.
“Hey,” a man says as he steps up next to me.
I turn to face him. He’s young, maybe early 30s, and good-looking with inky black hair, eyes like blue topaz, and tan skin. Tattoos, too.
“Hi,” I say and smile back.
“My name is Zak. I saw you in the cherry pit-spitting contest. Nice job. I thought for sure you were gonna win,” he says and laughs.
I laugh with him. “I know, I almost had it in the bag, but that old lady with the missing teeth beat me.” I hold my hand out to shake his. “My name is Aspen.”
“Where ya from?” he asks, and I turn back to the railing to keep enjoying the sunset.
“Dixie Holly,” I reply. “You?”
“I’m from ‘round here. A local.”
“Aspen.” Another male voice says from behind me. Not believing my ears, I whip around to see who it is.
“Ryker,” I whisper and swallow. My pulse quickens as I look into his eyes, and we stare at each other.
“Ahem,” Zak clears his throat. “Well, Aspen, it was nice meeting you. If there’s anything you need while in town, I work here. I’m happy to help.”
I blink, having already forgotten Zak, then I turn to reply. “Um, OK. Thanks. Nice meeting you.” He turns and walks away.
Ryker steps forward, and he’s right in front of me. His masculine scent hits my nose. I close my eyes and inhale sharply, holding it in my lungs, and then I let it out. When I open my eyes, I turn back to the view of the bay. The sun is lower and reflecting off the water like a million tiny diamonds, and I’m distracted by the beauty before me.
“What are you doing here?” My stomach twists, my skin tingles, and my heart hopes.
“I’m here to apologize,” he says, and he moves to stand next to
