Page 11 of Sweet Rivals

“Why come to the Cape Shore?” I finally asked. Cape Shore was a pretty popular vacation destination amongst East Coasters, but if I remembered correctly, the Wallaces had a private jet and could go anywhere they wanted.

“I heard great things about it,” he said. I lifted my eyebrows and rolled my eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course not,” I said. Normally, I would have lied, or at the very least, found a way to cushion my critique in politeness, but I didn’t have it in me to coddle some rich, famous guy.

“Tough crowd.”

“I think you are just used to adoring fans.”

“Like your mom?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said.

“You don’t like me?”

“I don’t like what you stand for.”

“What’s that?”

“Out of touch celebrity. Big money without any accountability. Giant chains that push out family-owned business.”

“My family does lots of research every time they open a restaurant. They aren’t ignorant to the local people.”

“That’s market research. How many smaller places have you put out of business?”

“That’s capitalism,” he said. “How could it be avoided?”

I snorted a divisive laugh and shook my head. It was pointless trying to explain these things to him. He clearly didn’t care about his impact so long as his pockets were lined.

“If it makes any difference to you, I am not always a fan of my family’s steam roller approach. I’d love to do something outside our brand.”

“No, it doesn’t really make a difference to me.”

“Tough crowd,” he said again.

I shrugged, crumpling up my little paper basket and crossing the alley to the garbage. “Well, this has been fun, but I’ve gotta get back.”

“I’m sure your mom can spare you a little longer. You didn’t finish showing me around,” he reminded me.

“I’m sure she can’t.”

“And if I told her that you weren’t a gracious host?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrow and a smirk.

I glared at him. As much as I wanted to pretend it didn’t bother me, it did. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine. What else do you want to see?”

Chapter Nine

“Show me something that no one else knowns about,” he said.

“But then you would know about it,” I said.

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I bet,” I scoffed.

I was ready to be done with this tour. I couldn’t help but wonder what PotatoBake888 would say when I told him about getting roped into spending the evening with that man. Was it pathetic that I was thinking about him, my online friend, even while I was standing in a crowd of people? I sighed and started walking, not waiting to see if my burden would follow.

We walked through the alley into the other side of the Main Street with more booths and shops, the sidewalk crowded with people until we reached the old church that had been repurposed into Cape Shore Museum. People moved through the open doors, but I turned slightly to the left, bringing him through the tight squeeze between the church and Bath Bubbles store around the back of the church. There was an ancient cemetery with crumbling graves, the names of the residents long since scrubbed clean, and a small gazebo. It wasn’t the most interesting or secluded spot, but I wasn’t taking him to anywhere that held special meaning to me.