a nutritional business?” I ask.
“Exactly,” Hannah spits the word out while glaring at Britney.
The brunette next to Britney leans over the counter. “You’ve got a lot of nerve going after us like this. After me like this. You and I both know you were in my gym just three weeks ago sampling my smoothies.” She glances down at the samples sitting on a tray and the labels just below that. “Strawberry Booty Boost? Mango Booty Tango? And Berry Booty Blast?” A choking sound comes from her, and her ponytail bounces like the tail of a piglet. “You stole my flavors and the names I use to market them! The only difference is you stuck the word booty in there. You’re a bootylicious thief!”
Britney growls at Hannah in a way that spells out danger. I’ve been around Brit enough to know what her growls mean, and if I were Hot Hannah, I’d hightail my booty-ful booty to the hills.
“How dare you.” Britney slams her hands down over the counter. “You are going to pay for this, Hannah Beckham. You haven’t seen the last of us yet. Expect my attorney to be contacting you soon.” She snaps her head in our direction. “Essex, this is my colleague, Reese Underwood.” She points to the woman with the pink streaks in her hair. “Consider yourself on retainer for the both of us.” Brit grabs her brunette counterpart and they stalk off into the crowd.
Britney has never been Essexed, but she let me know ages ago she was going to call Everett whatever she liked. She’s strong-willed and stubborn that way, and just a little bit scary. I’m not all that shocked things didn’t work out for her and Noah.
“How do you like that?” I huff as I look to Everett. “I think Hot Hannah is living up to her name. It sounds as if she not only lifted their customers, she’s lifting their smoothies, too.”
Everett glances to Maizy, the blonde in question, as she removes her apron and stalks off into the crowd.
“It looks like she’s getting the message,” he whispers. “Hopefully, when things cool down, those women can figure out a way to make things work for everyone involved. Let’s find that man in the red T-shirt, Lemon. We don’t need this day going from bad to worse.”
“Agree,” I say as we move into the flow of the crowd. “Ooh, right there!” I point to the Bees Knees Honey Farm booth next door.
“Do you see the ghost?”
“No, but I see waffles slathered with honey butter.”
Everett generously picks up a couple of soft, delicious honey treats for the both of us before we scoot to the Tex-Mex booth next to that and indulge in a couple of cheesy chicken quesadillas, then to the Thai booth where we eat our weight in ramen. Wicked Wok has a booth, and I’m not one to walk away from Kung Pao chicken and a bowl full of Four Seasons beef. Then there’s the vegan place where I’m practically obligated to snatch up a broccoli and rice bowl for the sake of the baby. Everett wanted to try a few Kobe beef sliders at the booth next to that, and I wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. We end up at Mangias finally and the two of us split a bowl of linguini with Alfredo sauce, and it feels as if we’ve come full circle considering we started the day off with pizza.
Everett moans. “I think I’m going to have to roll myself home.”
“You don’t have a home.” I point out with a frown. “And neither do I.” Tears spring to my eyes as I whine out the words. I can’t help it. My emotions have been just as volatile as my appetite.
“Don’t worry, Lemon.” He pulls me in with his good arm and gives me a slight twirl. “I have a plan. In fact—”
Something between the Busy Bee Craft Shop and the florist next door to them catches my attention.
“Everett, quick”—I point to the crack between the two buildings—“look at that.”
At the end of the narrow pathway toward the alley in the back, a tall man with a fedora has his hands placed firmly over Hot Hannah’s shoulders and he’s giving her a good shake. Definitely not the kind she’s used to.
Everett’s body tenses as he takes a step in that direction, but the man takes off, and soon Hot Hannah is headed this way again.
“I guess it’s over,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest as