Page 19 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

Coffee goes down the wrong pipe. I manage not to spit out what’s in my mouth, but fuck me. Twenty million dollars? For a company I started with maxed out credit cards and sheer stubbornness?

"That's..." I scramble for words that aren't 'holy fucking shit.' "Substantial."

And all I’d have to do is give up everything I’ve built and sit back and watch while he destroys it all and lords over me like he’s my boss.

"It's what you're worth." He sips his coffee like he didn't just drop a bomb. "Plus, there’s so much room to grow. Think beyond Portland. Imagine Seattle, Vancouver, San Francisco—the whole West Coast under your distribution network."

Even I can admit it’s tempting. He’s basically laying my ultimate dream at my feet and offering me an insane amount of money to make it happen. But the way he tells me to imagine it like I haven’t already done that a million times rubs me the wrong way.

He thinks I’m some little girl who couldn’t possibly have ambition that’s bigger than even his.

He’s offering me my dream on a silver platter.

Three months ago, I'd have considered it. But now? With a baby in my belly and Kasen James somehow becoming essential to my existence? The thought of giving all of this up, of figuring out how to start over or, worse, being under Miller’s thumb, makes me want to take a nap.

Throw up, then take a nap.

Something's off about this whole thing, too. It’s too easy and too much money for a first offer.

"You know, it’s funny how you're suddenly interested in my business, like you haven’t been sniffing around Portland breweries for months." I watch his face carefully. "Including Timber, from what I hear."

And I think I spot the first crack in his mask. His eyes narrow just a fraction. "I see news travels fast."

"Portland may be a big city, but this is a small community." I set down my mug. "Are you making Timber an offer, too?"

"I’m exploring all opportunities." In other words, absolutely yes. "Timber has a unique approach to the market that I can appreciate."

My stomach does this weird flip thinking about Kasen across from this vulture, considering selling the brewery he built from scratch after his mom died. Which is fucked up because I shouldn’t care what happens to his business.

Shouldn’t.

But I do.

"Here's what I don't understand," I say, leaning forward. "Why now? Cascade’s been operating for years and you’ve never once shown any interest in us. What's changed?"

Miller studies me, then shrugs. "Market conditions. The craft bubble is starting to contract. It's better to consolidate now, while valuations are still high."

He's lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth. Before I can call him on it, the room starts spinning. I white knuckle the edge of the table so I don’t fall out of my chair.

This is why I should’ve had Kieran sit in on this meeting, but I couldn’t let Nolan Miller think I needed a big, strong man to protect me or handle him.

"Are you alright?" Miller asks, concern creasing his brow.

"Peachy." I force a smile. "Where were we?"

"I was about to give you this." He slides a folder across the table. "It’s my formal offer, along with projections for the first three years under Pacific Northwest. Take your time reviewing it. I don't expect an answer today."

I open the folder, skimming the first page. The numbers are even crazier on paper, with performance bonuses and stock options that could push the total well beyond twenty million.

"This is generous," I admit, closing the folder. "But Cascade isn't just a business to me. It's my whole life."

"I understand." Miller nods. "Which is why you'd maintain operational control. Think of it as gaining a partner, not losing your company."

Right. A partnership where he owns my ass and can destroy everything I've built.

Another wave of dizziness hits me, stronger this time. Black spots pop at the edges of my vision, and I realize I'm going to pass out if I don't get some air. Or food. Or lay down. Or all of the above.

Is this normal or should I be worried about the baby? Or maybe it’s a good old-fashioned panic attack?

"Mr. Miller," I say, standing from my chair, trying not to freak out about how off I feel. "I need to step out for a minute. Kieran will show you some of our distribution data while I'm gone."

On cue, Kieran materializes at the door like the mind-reading wizard he is.

"Everything good?" he murmurs as we pass in the doorway.

"I'm about to pass out," I whisper. "Stall him."

Kieran nods, then turns to Miller with his megawatt smile. "Mr. Miller! Let me show you our Q3 projections. You're gonna love this."

I make it to my office on shaky legs, closing the door behind me before collapsing into my chair. My hands are trembling, my heart racing, and I can't tell if it's pregnancy or panic or both.

Twenty million dollars. A life-changing amount. Enough to never worry about money again, to give our baby every advantage.

But at what cost?

My phone buzzes on my desk, and Kasen’s name pops up on the screen. I hesitate, then answer.

"This isn't a good time," I say instead of hello.

"What’s wrong?" The concern in his voice makes my insides warm. "You sound off."

I blow out a breath. "Miller's here." I don't know why I tell him this. We agreed to keep business separate. But the words tumble out anyway. "Making an offer for Cascade."

A pause, then, "How much?"

"Twenty million. Plus incentives."

Another pause, longer this time. "That's a hell of an offer."

"Yeah." I run a hand through my hair, destroying my ponytail. "Did he approach you too? Kieran said you were meeting with him yesterday."

"He did." Kasen's voice goes flat. "He made a bullshit pitch about maintaining independence while accessing Pacific Northwest's resources."

So the exact same shit he said to me. "And?"

"And I told him to go fuck himself."

A laugh bubbles up despite everything, that ball of tension in my gut starting to loosen up. Talking to him is just… easy. "That direct, huh?"

"You know me, Pink. I’m allergic to corporate bullshit." There's a smile in his voice that I can almost see. "What’re you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty. "It's a lot of money."

"It is." His tone softens. "But money isn't everything."

Coming from anyone else, it would sound like a platitude. But coming from Kasen, who rebuilt his brewery after a fire and who sells directly to bars even though others disagreed with his model, it has more impact.

"I need to get back to the meeting," I say, glancing at the clock. "I just—I'm feeling like garbage. I think it’s maybe pregnancy stuff, but I don’t know."

"Have you eaten?" The immediate shift to protective and worried in his voice makes everything inside of me go melty and warm all over again. Bad Wren. What the hell are you doing? "Low blood sugar can make you dizzy and nauseous."

"How’d you know I was dizzy?"

"Lucky guess." He pauses. "There's a protein bar in your purse. I put it there this morning while you were in the shower."

This man. "Is this gonna be a thing? You being completely overbearing?”

"Only until you start taking better care of yourself." His tone is gruff. Also, why don’t I believe him? "Eat the damn bar, Wren."

"Fine." I dig through my purse and yep. It’s one of those fancy bars with extra protein and vitamins that’s supposed to taste like a brownie. "Anything else you hid in here I should know about?"

"Just that." He hesitates. "Call me after the meeting? Let me know how it went?"

I should say no. Should maintain the boundaries we agreed on. But he’s asking me instead of dictating orders and for some reason that’s what makes me say, "Okay."

"Okay," he echoes, sounding relieved. "And Pink?"

"Yeah?"

"Trust your gut. It's gotten you this far."

He hangs up before I can respond. I stare at the phone before I set it down and unwrap the protein bar. It's actually good, and there’s not a hint of cardboard.

It’s not until I’m halfway done that I realize I never asked Kasen why he was calling in the first place. Guess it wasn’t that important.

By the time I'm finished, the protein bar’s working its magic, and the dizziness has faded enough for me to return to the meeting. I fix my ponytail, straighten my blazer, take a deep breath, and march back to that conference room, ready for war.

Miller and Kieran are bent over a tablet, but both look up when I enter.

"Everything okay?" Miller asks. He’s wearing his politician's smile again, so I put on one of my own.

"Perfect." I reclaim my seat at the head of the table. "Look, Nolan. I appreciate the offer, Truly. But Cascade exists to support independent breweries, not to help corporations disguise mass production as craft."

His smile doesn't falter, but his eyes go cold. "That's a narrow view of what Pacific Northwest does."

"Maybe. But it's my view, and it's why I can't accept your offer." I slide the folder back across the table. "Cascade isn’t for sale."

Miller studies me for a long moment, then nods as if he expected this.

"For now," he says, tucking the folder into his briefcase.

"But the market is changing, Wren. Small independents are struggling.

When the craft bubble bursts—and it will—having allies with deep pockets will be the difference between survival and collapse. "

"I'll take my chances," I say, feeling my resolve cement even with his vague threat. This is the right decision. "Kieran will show you out."

They leave, and I slump back in my chair.

Exhausted doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling.

The meeting took more out of me than I expected.

As much as I want to pretend it isn’t, this pregnancy’s really kicking my ass.

This kid is sapping all my energy so it can grow, but I can’t be mad about it.

In fact, it makes me smile just a little.

Kieran comes back a few minutes later, closing the door behind him. "That was ballsy," he says, settling into the chair Miller just vacated. "Turning down twenty million without even taking time to consider it."

"I didn't need time." I run a hand over my face. "It was never going to be a yes."

"Because of the baby?" he asks. "Or because of Kasen?"

"Because of Cascade." I sit up straighter. "This is mine. I built it. I'm not handing it over to someone who'll use it to destroy the very industry I've worked to support."

Kieran nods, his expression thoughtful. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right call. But you should probably go home. You look like shit."

"I'm fine," I say automatically, even as another wave of fatigue crashes over me.

"No, you're pregnant and stubborn as hell." He stands, holding out his hand for my laptop. "I'll handle the Orson call. Go rest or I’ll call Kasen."

I know I should argue, should insist on staying, but the thought of the cloud of a bed in Kasen’s guestroom is too good to pass up.

"Fine, snitch," I relent, handing over my laptop. "But call me if anything comes up with Orson. They're still waffling on the summer seasonal commitment."

"Will do, boss." Kieran gives me a little salute. "Want me to call you a car?"

"I can drive," I insist, though even as I say it, my eyelids might as well weigh a thousand pounds.

"Sure you can." He's already on his phone, ignoring me. "Car will be here in five. I'll walk you down."

The ride home passes in a blur. Not home , I remind myself. Kasen's house. I'm half-asleep by the time the driver pulls into the driveway of the Craftsman bungalow that feels more like coming home than my apartment ever did.

Inside, the house is quiet and empty. Kasen's still at the brewery, dealing with the fallout from whatever disaster called him away this morning. I kick off my heels in the entryway, padding in stockinged feet to the kitchen where I pour myself a glass of water.

The domesticity of it all hits me hard. Standing in Kasen's kitchen. Drinking from his glasses. Opening his freezer like I belong here and taking out the bowl of ice cream and potato chips he made me in the middle of the night. It's been two days, and already he’s got me all up in my feels.

Honestly. I thought I was made of tougher stuff than this.

After my ice cream snack, I make my way to the guest room and change out of my work clothes into leggings and one of Kasen’s t-shirts I snagged out of his closet. He didn’t say anything to me about the one I was wearing last night, so I figure he doesn’t care.

The bed calls to me, and I don't resist, crawling under the covers with a sigh of relief.

Just a quick nap , I tell myself, setting an alarm for an hour. Then I'll check in with Kieran for a debrief about the Orson call.

But as I start to drift off, it's not Cascade or Miller or million-dollar offers I'm thinking about. It's Kasen. His deep, gravelly voice on the phone. The protein bar he slipped into my purse. The way he said "trust your gut" like he actually believes in me.

The last thing I register before I set my alarm is a bizarre craving hitting me hard.

Pink Lady apples sliced thin and dipped in hot sauce. With a side of butterscotch pudding.

C’mon, even I know that’s gross.

Like on a logical level, I mean, because my body is not logical with the way my mouth’s watering.

I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes and staring at my phone as my mouth waters. My stomach growls aggressively, like it's personally offended I haven't already delivered this specific combination of foods.

"Fuck my entire life," I mutter, weighing my options.

I could text Kieran. He's handled weirder requests and wouldn't ask questions. But my fingers are already typing a message to Kasen before I can talk myself out of it.

Me: SOS. Need pink lady apples + hot sauce + butterscotch pudding. It’s an emergency.

His response comes before I can even set the phone down.

Kasen: On it. Give me 20 minutes.

I fall back against the pillows, staring at his immediate response. No questions asked. No teasing. Just "On it."

I should be irritated by how quickly he's jumping to fulfill my ridiculous cravings.

I should be able to get up and go get them myself.

Instead, I'm fighting a stupid smile I'd deny if anyone saw it.

This kind of dependency wasn't part of the plan.

The fact that I'm texting him instead of Kieran is a red flag I'm deliberately ignoring.

This is bad. So bad. I'm starting to expect his support. To count on it. To want it.

And the only thing worse than needing Kasen James? Wanting to need him.