“Harper, you’ve outdone yourself,” Mrs. Brooks beams. “The lemongrass lotion is to die for. I’ve been putting it on my husband’s heels every night, and did you know they’re as smooth as a baby’s butt now?”
I hold back a snort. “That’s amazing.”
“A baby’s butt?” Mrs. Jefferson shrieks, adding three more lotions to her basket. “Jack has a bunion on his toe. Wonder if this will fix him right up?”
“It’s a miracle lotion, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Brooks confirms.
Mom greets everyone, and soon, a small line has formed in front of the shop because so many people are inside. “Did you announce online that you were bringin’ new inventory in today or somethin’?” Mom whispers.
“Swear, I didn’t. The only person I said anything to was…” I pause briefly. “Ethan.”
“Bet he told Rose.” She knowingly smirks. Ethan’s grandmother, Rose, loves to support local businesses and charities. The woman has been raising thousands for the food bank by running an annual bachelor auction. She has connections no one else in town has—her own little town gossip mill. If he mentions it in passing to her, Ethan knows she’ll spread it around faster than any post on social media could. It's the best free local advertisement I could ask for.
Soon, all the summer soaps and every bottle of lotion are gone.
“Do you have more comin’?” Mrs. Darla asks me after everyone’s paid and the shelves are bare.
“I should have some by the end of the week,” I confirm, realizing it’s only Monday, and I’ll be working overtime to make more.
She lowers her voice. “Do you know what day and time? I don’t want to miss out again.”
“Friday. Ten a.m.”
She smiles wide. “My credit card’s ready.”
Once the store is empty, Mom laughs. “We just sold over two thousand dollars worth of soaps, lotions, and T-shirts.”
We exchange a high five.
“That’s awesome!” I beam, kinda shocked. I recently upped my prices due to the high demand but also knowing my worth. However, it hasn’t deterred anyone from purchasing them.
“Did you at least save some of the summer scents for your online orders?” Mom asks, tidying up the pile of shirts that she’ll probably fold another ten times before the day is over.
“I did. I’m launching the rest tonight. People are already messaging about getting early access. I’m gonna have to figure out how to increase my productivity. The cure time of three to four weeks is killin’ me. I need more hands on deck so my inventory is always stocked.”
“You’ll sell it with no problem. You’d still make a profit after paying your employees,” she says. “Might just need a bigger space to store it all.”
“Time to get a she-shed in the backyard,” I tease, though that’d help me out so damn much. I live in a small cabin behind my parents’ house and make all of my products there. It takes a lot of space to store everything, but I could make it work for now if I had more shelves and bought more supplies. Since I live alone, I’m the only person who has to deal with the racks being everywhere. Hell, I already do. But at this rate, I need double the inventory to meet my demand.
“You could post a sign about needing help on the information corkboard at the grocery store,” she tells me. I’ve always been wary about hiring outside help because I don’t want my recipes or secrets getting leaked. I don’t need any more competition in this industry or in the area. Hadleigh helps me on the days she’s not working her nursing job at the hospital. Her shifts rotate three days on and four days off, so she comes over on her days off.
I love when Hadleigh works with me because we’re able to catch up and chat, making the time pass faster. It reminds me of when we were teenagers, doing crafts and talking about boys. Even though we’re both painfully single, it’s still fun to gossip. However, since she’s close friends with Kane Bishop—who also lives on the ranch—I have to share her with him too.
I tell Mom goodbye, then go home to get ready for my launch tonight. Listings are scheduled to go live every ten minutes, and I’m excited to see how this works out. Being different from the other soap companies has really helped me double my social media presence and build a real brand in a short amount of time. Well, that and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.
Once I’m in my driveway, I text Ethan and let him know what happened at the boutique.
Harper: Hey, assface. You could’ve given me a warning that you were gonna tell your grandma I was bringing new inventory in today! But also, thank you. It was a nice surprise.
He sends me a winky emoji before sending another message.
Ethan: What’s the fun in that? Gotta keep it spicy for ya. And you’re welcome. I’m glad it worked.
Harper: Those women bought everything! Stock is now completely out till Friday.
Ethan: It’s because you’re amazing and your products are great.
A smile touches my lips. Ethan’s always been my biggest fan and supporter, and it’s why he’s my bestest friend in the entire world. I don’t know what I’d do without him, considering he’s always been my hype squad.
Harper: And that’s why I love you.
Ethan: Because I tell the truth?
Harper: Because even when my recipes weren’t quite right and my sales sucked, you were still my cheerleader. You’ve always been my ride or die!
There’s a pause before I see his bubble pop up.
Ethan: Isn’t that what best friends are for?
Harper: Absolutely. BFFs for life!
Best friends. My eyes focus on the words for a moment. It’s a reminder of what we are and will always be even though Ethan’s the only man who’s ever given a damn about me.
Chapter Three
ETHAN
After I check on the goat's milk production this morning, I go home and get ready for the Fourth of July party. The big yearly celebration on the ranch is a Bishop family tradition, and the whole family attends. It always brings back great childhood memories, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Along with a ton of food and music, my uncles always put on a great fireworks show.
When I’m out of the shower, I put on shorts and a T-shirt since it's so damn hot outside, then grab my baseball cap. Mom’s sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee while scrolling on her phone.
“Hey, hon,” she says when I grab a bottle of water.
“What’s goin’ on? Dad gonna make it on time?”
“Oh yeah. He’ll be home any minute actually,” she tells me just as the front door slams.
Dad walks in and kisses Mom on the cheek, then turns to me. “Headin’ over?”
“Yes, sir. Gonna pick up Harper first, then meetin’ everyone.”
“If you can, let Jackson know I’ll be there in a bit. And tell him I said no water balloons this year.” He gives me a stern look to pass onto him, though it’s pointless. Uncle Jackson still acts like a teenager and will do whatever he pleases.