3. The Best Vendor Award

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At the end of the day, Sabina packed all the unsold jars of honey into the plastic bins. Thanks to the terrible spot and the lack of crowds, there was far too much product left. She frowned as she squished the lid shut. Step two of her plan might be in serious jeopardy.

Riley heaved the folded table into the back of the van with a grunt. "I could sleep for a week," they said. "And you're telling me we have to do this all again tomorrow?"

"Every day except Sunday and Monday." She hefted the bin onto her hip, then slid it in next to the table.

They shook their head. "I don't know about this whole having a job thing. It seems like a lot of work. This is really what you want to do for the rest of your life? Sit out here in the hot sun all day selling honey?"

"It's not just the market. I love the hives and the jarring and all the rest, too. I like working with my hands and actually making something useful. I would die of boredom if I had to sit in an office all day. No, put the fridge behind the front seat. And use the bungee cord so it doesn't tip."

"It's too heavy to tip."

"Better safe than sorry."

Behind her, a truck engine revved, and then a horn blared. Sabina stuck her fingers in her ears.

"Hey, Engberg. You got some kind of problem with my cousin?"

"Ugh," she muttered.

The Verger Orchards truck had stopped behind her, trailer filling the whole lane. Leaning out the driver's window was Otis Verger, a baseball cap tipped back over his perfectly coiffed hair. The annoying girl from that morning watched from the passenger seat, looking bored.

"Did you stop just to gloat?" Sabina made a face. She had known since birth that the Vergers were all trouble, but with Otis it was personal. The fact that he had been the only other out queer kid for those interminable middle school years hadn't made his slimy charisma any less detestable or his know-it-all attitude any more palatable. Gay-lesbian solidarity was nice in theory, but Otis Verger was a jerk. "Well, congrats, you won. You stole my spot. Now business is terrible. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"You always act like you're the queen of the market," Otis said. "There are like three spots that get any shade. We had as much right to it as you. And you were out of line coming for Mel like that."

"Did she ask you to come defend her honour?" Sabina scoffed. "Very classy."

The girl—Mel—rolled her eyes.

"I thought you said this was over." Sabina narrowed her eyes.

Mel groaned. "I didn't ask him to do anything."

"You didn't have to ask." Otis smacked the side of his truck. "You mess with my family, you mess with me."

"You're the ones who declared war by stealing my spot!"

Riley chuckled, then covered their grin when Sabina shot them a venomous look. "Okay, I know you've got like, an ancient family feud or whatever. But you two sound like a freaking Shakespeare play."

"Riley! Hi. I didn't see you there." Otis' cheeks pinked. "Hey, uh, did you get my invitation?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Cool." He rubbed a palm over his tanned bicep. "So I'll see you there?"

They shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."

"What? What is this? What invitation?" Sabina looked back and forth between them. Since when were her best friend and her worst enemy on friendly terms?

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