Today, he’d ask some Windamere lifers to trust him, and hope they didn’t laugh in his face.
On the drive to town, Anna kept the worst of his nerves at bay by talking. They decided she’d open up the conversation, he’d fill in details, and then he or she would go in for the close, depending on who the business owner warmed up to more.
Anna gave him a signal for when it was him and when it was her.
They went over a list of five businesses they’d visit that day. He told her what each one did and why they were top picks. If the five anchor stores would support the festival, many of the other businesses would follow suit, and he might actually pull this off.
Unfortunately, the first two took a long, hard look at Dev, and said no.
The third stop was Della’s Delights.
“How much money we talking here?” Della looked Anna up and down.
Della was almost his parents’ age, and knew them pretty well. She’d quizzed Roark when they separated, wanting to know where they moved, who got the inn, and why things hadn’t worked out for the Bradley family.
Basically, she’d wanted to know it all. Roark didn’t tell her jack, except that he ran the resort now.
“A deposit of two hundred.”
Della crossed her arms. “That’s not so bad.”
Anna angled herself toward Dev with a smile. His cue.
“Not much at all, considering.” Dev stepped forward. “We want to keep costs low for the local business owners, so after the deposit, you’d need to give us the final one hundred a couple of weeks before the Blueberry Festival.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’ve looked at the cost and that fee will cover your vendor tent, cleanup, and setup. After that, we’re only asking for a small percentage of net earnings.”
“Lord, I thought you were fixing to tell me the price was a thousand or something, like last time. I can’t swing that kind of money this year. Couldn’t swing it back then either.”
Dev blinked. “A thousand . . . dollars?”
“That was the cost the last few years of the festival. Made it so the whole thing darn near wasn’t worth it. Even if I sold all the cakes and cupcakes in the world, I couldn’t turn a good profit after paying all that overhead.”
He and Anna shared a look. They’d gone over the costs, and nothing should create that kind of price tag. If Crawford’s office was charging that kind of money to participate, what the hell were they spending it on?
“We won’t need a thousand dollars,” he assured her.
“Are you in charge of this thing, or your brother?”
That was it. The real crux of the matter. Who’d be running this show—the responsible, respectable Bradley, or that other one who almost went to jail?
After a quick glance in Anna’s direction, Dev stood a little straighter and nodded. “I am. I’m handling the Blueberry Festival.”
Not moving a muscle, Della waited. Then, “When abouts are you having the festival?”
“Third weekend in June. Same as it used to be.”
Dell uncrossed her arms, dusting some of the flour off her apron. From the way she shook her head, the answer looked like a no. He wasn’t surprised. Della knew almost everything about everyone; she definitely knew about his past.
The fact that Dev had been a manager at Honeywilde for two years now, that he helped Roark keep the place on its feet and thriving, that he fixed problems now instead of causing them—none of that mattered. All that mattered was he’d spent over a decade trying to wreck his life, and no one would forget it.
“Third weekend in June,” Della repeated. “That doesn’t give you much time, now does it?”
“No, ma’am. But I work best under pressure.”
“I’ve heard tell about the fancy wedding you-all threw at the resort last fall. Pulled it off in what? A month? Think having the resort and town in the papers and all those big magazines will get more people to the festival?”
“It certainly couldn’t hurt.”
“But in order to get the tourists and shoppers to the festival, we have to have it.” Anna went in for the close. “That’s where Della’s Delights comes in. You’re one of the most successful businesses in Windamere. If you support the Blueberry Festival, it’s sure to be a success.”
Della considered both of them for what had to be a solid minute before she nodded. “Did you know I used to sell out of every baked good I’d make for the Blueberry Festival? Every single festival. Christmas is still my top time, but I made as much in those two or three days as I would the whole off-season.”
“That’s the reason we want to do it,” he told her. “If enough people are interested, and willing to put down money to help with the overhead, we can get some advertising out. We can drum up enough visitors that everyone benefits and—”
Della flapped her hands at him, stopping him mid-speech. “Hang on a minute.”
He wide-eyed Anna as Della tromped toward her office.
Anna mouthed to him with a smile, “I told you so.”
Della returned a second later, the full three hundred in her hand, in cash. “I’m not expecting a huge return this year, mind. What with it only about six weeks away and all, but if pitching in means we can have the festival back, I’ll do it.”
He gaped as she held out the handful of twenties.
Three hundred dollars shouldn’t break her bank, but she was giving it to him. Trusting him to take that money and use it for their mutual benefit.
In the end, Anna had to reach for the cash, putting it in the little zipper bag he’d nabbed from Sophie.
Devlin wrote out a receipt for Della, his fingers trembling.
Della moved closer, watching him write. “You know, Viv told me how you got her that job up at the inn.”
“Who?”
“My daughter, Vivian. She got a part-time job working the front desk.”
“Right.” Dev nodded. He knew exactly who Vivian was. “Don’t thank me. She got herself the job.”
Della quirked an eyebrow. “She said you were the one who told her about the opening and got her the interview with your sister. Sounds to me like some thanks are in order.”
He handed over the receipt. “Well, she was always polite and professional when she helped me at the grocery store. I thought she deserved the chance if she wanted it.”
He shook Della’s hand and turned to give Anna the signal that it was time to go.
“Thank you.” Anna shook Della’s hand and followed him out, but the whole time her gaze burned a hole in the back of his head.
“That was nice of you to get someone a job,” she said once they reached the sidewalk.
He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “What about that thousand-dollar price tag?” He changed the subject instead.
“Oh my gosh, I was going to say. That’s insane! Is that really what the town was asking the businesses to pay?”
“Evidently.”
He risked a glance and Anna shook her head. “No wonder people stopped wanting to participate.”
With the next two businesses, they had varying degrees of success, but a win was a win. They were both willing to put down a deposit by the end of the week, and the family who owned the clothing boutique said they’d throw in a gift certificate if other businesses wanted to go in together and have a festival-wide raffle or silent auction.
The idea was brilliant, and he typed it in his phone to discuss later.
They headed back to his car, the positive results putting a small smile on his face.
“Going better than you expected?” Anna asked.
“Much.” The majority of the people were friendly or, at least, indifferent. Only a couple of them scowled as soon as they saw him.
Anna stopped at the bottom of a small set of stairs. “Then let’s do one more.”
“I don’t want to press our luck.”
“Come on. We’re on a roll. One more.” She nodded toward the stairs.
> His stomach clenched, pressure instantly squeezing his chest. The stairs led up to Miller’s Tool and Tackle. Even if he called on one more, it sure as hell wouldn’t be that one.
“That’s not on the list.”
“I know, but look at the size of the place. It’s one of the biggest shops in town. Surely they’d be interested, and we’re doing so well.”
He didn’t want to set foot in that place, never mind approach them for money.
“I’ll come back some other day.” A total lie. He’d go to every business in town and still not go there. He hoped they’d join the festival once they found out everyone else was participating, but if they didn’t, he totally understood.
Anna glanced at her dainty watch. “You said you had the rest of the day off.”
“So?”
“So, it’s not even two o’clock. Those last three businesses agreed like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I think we should take our good karma and keep going.”
“And I think we should quit while we’re ahead.”
Anna planted both her hands on her hips. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He dug his fingers through his hair. “Why?”
“You’ve made it very clear how important pulling off this festival is, and you’ve been killing it today. People are responding to us. You can sell one more person on the event.”
Not at the Tool and Tackle, he couldn’t.
He shrugged her off again, afraid to speak in his defense.
“Every other day, you can be late for this or that at the resort, but today you want to get back. I’m sorry, but that makes no sense.”
Anna had gotten a taste of success too, selling people on an idea like she probably did before she’d hit a wall at work. And now he was getting a taste of what she was like in fifth gear.
Ready to go. No hesitancy, like when she faced a drop-off on the side of a mountain, or kissed in public for the first time.
Anna was wide open, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t rein her in.
But he was sure as hell going to try.
“They wouldn’t be interested in participating in the Blueberry Festival anyway. What are they going to sell, fishing hooks and screwdrivers?”
“Why not?”
“I promise, we’ll come back to them later. If you want to keep going, let’s ask the guy who owns the popcorn and peanut shop.”
As he turned to go, a steady resolve settled into Anna’s gaze and she didn’t budge. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?”
“First, you don’t want to talk to the business owners because you say it’s not your skill. Then today you turn on the charm and three of them say yes. I should’ve known because you had no problem charming me too. You drive to the next town for lunch and ice cream and coffee, and now you won’t go talk to this guy. You try to act like it’s nothing, but I’ve never seen you this tense. What’s going on? I know when I’m being left in the dark on a deal, and right now, it’s pitch-black.”
He wouldn’t tell her the whole long, drawn-out story. One story led to the next, and if Anna knew everything about him, there’d be no way she’d still look at him with the same unguarded interest and desire in her gaze.
She thought he was fun and carefree. All she knew of him was the guy he was today, working hard to do something for his family and town, and playing hard in order to spend time with her. Why should she have to know that other Devlin? He didn’t exist anymore. “Mr. Miller, the owner of the Tool and Tackle, he doesn’t like me.”
The truth; in its simplest form.
“You thought the people in the last three stores didn’t like you either, and they all gave you a deposit, or more.”
“This is different. I know he doesn’t like me.”
“How?”
“I just do, okay? Let’s drop it.” He looked away, in case she could see how rattled this made him.
“Fine. Then I’ll go talk to him and I’ll get the sale.” A hard line thinned her perfect lips. A look that said he could stand out here on the sidewalk, but she wasn’t letting this go. That same determination was probably what made her so great at her job. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on here?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes with a flash of hurt and anger, then turned and marched up the stairs.
Why the hell was she so pissed? It was one business, and what did it matter that he wouldn’t say why Miller didn’t like him? The reasons were personal. An uncomfortable truth he didn’t want to share.
He dragged a hand through his hair again.
A truth as personal and uncomfortable as, say, blacking out at work and being so stressed out you couldn’t do your job, so your boss and therapist basically made you take a vacation.
“Ah hell.” He took the steps two at a time, his gut like lead.
Anytime he thought about this place, he was thirteen and being threatened with juvenile detention or jail again, and now here he was, strolling in.
They’d never put a thirteen-year-old in jail, but he hadn’t known that. He’d been scared shitless, though with his big show of teenage defiance and anger, no one would’ve guessed.
Anna startled when he caught the door behind her, but her gaze softened.
At least he’d entered the building, and the Tool and Tackle was as woody and dark as fifteen years ago. Still smelled as old too.
“Can I help y’all with something?” A feminine coo came from somewhere behind the counter.
The woman who popped up had to be Miller’s youngest daughter. A few years younger than Dev, with light blond hair, fair skin and freckles, she looked directly at him, and in her huge green eyes was instant recognition.
Wonderful.
She didn’t offer any further hospitality, simply stared them down where they stood.
Anna went still, probably caught off guard by the sudden chill in the air. Rather than give her cheery opener, she glanced at Dev.
He’d made it inside the shop, might as well let the axe swing down.
“Is your father around?” Dev asked, cracking the ice. “I was hoping we could talk with him.”
“You sure you want to talk to my daddy?”
“No, but I’m here. And that’s farther than I’ve ever gotten before, so . . .”
“Mmm.” Miller’s daughter pursed her lips, the contempt oozing off of her. She turned and yelled, “Daddy!”
After some banging around in the back, Mr. Miller appeared, and stopped right in the doorway. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Yep, the old man recognized him too. Maybe he should grow his hair even longer, try out a beard.
“I wondered if you’d ever have the brass ones to walk in this store again.”
Dev had plenty of brass, but that’s not what made him come in here.
The reason, like most good reasons, was a woman—a woman who’d shaken and shed a tear, telling Dev the truth about an ugly part of her life.
Dev’s life was much uglier, but Anna hadn’t known that when she opened up. She trusted Dev enough to show him who she really was. And the betrayal in her eyes, when he’d refused to do the same, wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see again.
The truth was, this was a visit he should’ve made a long time ago, but denial kept him away.
Karmic, really. Facing one of his biggest screwups with one of the people he wanted to impress most.
There were things he needed to say to Mr. Miller, but he didn’t have the right words. He’d replayed the possibility over and over in his head dozens of times and confronting his past had to happen someday.
He just didn’t know it’d be today.
“I, uh . . . I know it’s past time I came in here. But here I am. And I owe you an apology for what I did.”
Miller stared, unblinking.
Dev stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied the scuff on his shoes. “I know it’s been a long time, but . . . I’m sorry I stole from you and w
recked your store.”
Beside him, Anna’s gaze jerked toward him, the intensity burning like a bonfire. But he couldn’t look at her. Not yet. Not until he got this out and over with.
Facing Miller meant facing his past, and if he stopped too long to think about it, he’d freeze up. “I was young and stupid and angry. But that’s no excuse.”
In eighth grade, he’d broken in, stolen a fishing rod, lines, and hooks. The full gear. Refusing to show up at a youth fishing tournament without the gear required to enter, he’d committed a crime.
At first he got into the store to get what he needed. Miller’s son, Jacob, was a buddy of Dev’s. In some twisted way, he’d figured he might not get in as much trouble for stealing. Jacob’s parents wouldn’t mind, and Dev’s father had promised him for months they would participate.
Then Dev’s dad bailed on him. As usual.
His folks weren’t going to spend rare extra time and money on him; they never had. But like an idiot, he’d gotten his hopes up.
He should’ve known his father was bluffing when he promised the tournament, but he was still young, and still believed. Dev told all the boys at school he was fishing too, and his dad would be there and everything would be wonderful again.
Then his father looked him right in the eyes and told him to forget the tournament. Who had time for that kind of thing anyway?
Dev had been furious. And hurt. Not only about that, but everything.
The constant arguing, the tension, the long, icy silences and being ignored. At school there were always jabs and accusations. His family owned a big inn, why was he so poor? Why was he upset? What was wrong with him?
He should be at the top of his class, well behaved, like his brother Roark.
Since he was thirteen, he’d owed the Millers an apology, and he’d avoided it like a hanging.
Like so many other things, he’d dodged what he needed to do in lieu of what he wanted to do.
Now, wanting to help grow and shape Honeywilde into the success his family deserved, wanting to do something for the town he’d run roughshod over back in the day, he couldn’t ignore his past anymore.
“I should’ve come here years ago to face you, but I’m here now. And I’m sorry.”
A Date with Desire Page 13
