A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  “Actually, the profit available from an event like the Blueberry Festival is exactly how we could afford to do extra things like renovating the lakefront and getting a brand-new dock, instead of patching things up.” Dev sat a little straighter. He wasn’t accepting his brother’s no. This meant challenging Roark, but he’d done it plenty of times before.

  Dev clutched his coffee mug until his fingers hurt. A dense knot settled in the center of his chest. He could do this. And he could do it calmly, without it descending into the yelling and arguing he’d hated so much as a boy. He could talk, civilly, to his brother and make him see the benefits.

  Somehow, he could make Roark believe in him.

  Roark rubbed at his temple, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “As the sponsor of the Blueberry Festival, we could make a few thousand dollars in less than a week.”

  “Dev.” Roark lowered his chin.

  The tired look in his eyes added an ache to the ever tightening knot in Dev’s chest. “Would you listen? Please? For one second, have an open mind about my ideas and hear me out? I have a plan and it’s already working.” And if he believed in the plan Anna had helped him develop, he had to stand up for it.

  Madison bumped her leg against the back of Roark’s chair. The move was subtle, but Dev saw, and appreciated it.

  “I know my plan for sponsoring the festival will work out, because I spent a lot of my day off, going around to local businesses, asking them if they’d be willing to make a deposit to participate. Since then, a few more have called me, directly, because they heard from others that I was asking. I have almost a dozen businesses interested and over half have already given me their deposits.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Sophie, still sleepy eyed, leaned toward him. “You went around to all of those people?”

  He kept his jaw firm and nodded, refusing to meet her gaze. She knew how he felt about the people in town and she knew how most of them had viewed Dev for years. If he looked at her now and saw even a hint of pride or hope in his little sister’s eyes, he’d probably lose it.

  For so long he wanted to be deserving of that look, but he wasn’t there yet. Too many things could still go wrong.

  “That’s great, Dev,” she said, and left it at that.

  Roark sat forward too, arms folded on his desk. “They gave you deposits. What did you do with them?”

  “They’re in the safe downstairs.”

  “You gave them receipts, I hope.”

  “Yes, I gave them receipts. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I wasn’t implying—” Roark cut himself off, tight lines forming around his eyes, working his jaw as he thought.

  Devlin could only imagine what Roark might be thinking, because his mind didn’t work that way. Roark would be considering a hundred different things that could go wrong with the deposits alone. Then, the hundreds of other things that might blow up on them by planning a festival for the whole town.

  Making it happen wouldn’t be easy, but where Dev saw opportunity, Roark would see all of the potential pitfalls.

  “Did you give them any kind of guarantee you could bring the festival back? Because we aren’t in a position to guarantee anything.”

  “No, I didn’t promise or guarantee anything. I told them the festival was a stretch, but a definite possibility.” And Anna had told them the same, but he couldn’t mention her. Not including her, crediting her, telling his family about this amazing woman who fell into his life—or vice versa, really—gnawed at him like midday hunger.

  She deserved recognition, credit, and his family would be dazzled by her.

  They’d probably wonder what the hell she was doing with Dev, but he wouldn’t blame them.

  Roark went from staring at the top of his desk, to staring at Dev. “I can’t believe you went out there and did that.”

  He didn’t mean it in the same way that Sophie had meant it. Roark’s tone was one he’d heard enough times, he knew it well. He couldn’t believe Dev would do something so ill-advised. Risky. Stupid.

  “Look, some of the business owners even said they knew it might not happen, but wanted to make deposits in case it might help things along. They want this to happen, same way I do.”

  “But you can’t take people’s money if you can’t guarantee the event is happening.”

  “They gave it to me knowing the event was a fifty-fifty shot.”

  “Fifty-fifty? Dev, seventy-thirty we can’t pull this off, and now you’ve gone and taken people’s money.”

  Madison cleared her throat. “We’ve pulled off a successful event with worse odds.”

  Everyone’s gaze jerked to Madison, still leaning back on the credenza behind Roark.

  “Well, we have,” she said, arms crossed.

  “I don’t want to have these people’s money when this plan falls through,” Roark argued. “It opens us up to quite a bit of—”

  “Risk.” Dev finished the sentence for him. And Roark said when it falls through, not if.

  But his brother’s lack of faith didn’t deter him. If anything, it charged his resolve, goaded him on. When Anna, a woman who’d known him a week, could believe in him, why couldn’t his own brother?

  Roark had been there, front row to all of Dev’s failings in life, and that was the only explanation. The problem always came back to how much Dev had screwed up in the past, and if his family couldn’t get past it, then neither could Dev.

  “I get it, okay? I get that you’re worried I might screw up because that’s all I did for most of my life. You don’t want ringside seats to my imminent failure, but you made me the hospitality manager here. Am I a part of this business or not? Because if I am, this is my idea and I have solid reasons to think it will work. If I’m not part of this business, then tell me now so I can take my ideas elsewhere.”

  The bomb of his words exploded in the middle of Roark’s office, and they all sat there and watched it burn.

  No one said a word for what felt like time eternal.

  Dev wanted to take it back, even though the truth of how he felt needed to be said. He’d held it in for too long. Roark meant well, trying to big-brother the hell out of him, but if Dev was part of this family and resort, then he should have a voice.

  He didn’t want to take his ideas elsewhere.

  His life was here, with the people who’d stood by him, loved him, and held him up for all those years. But he didn’t need to be held up anymore.

  He needed his family to trust him enough to let go.

  “Of course you’re a part of this business, that’s not—” Roark paused, the battle with himself heightening his color. “That’s not what I meant, at all. I want us to be smart about this.”

  “I am being smart.”

  “And careful. I’m trying to help.”

  “Well, you’re not.”

  “Okay.” Sophie held her hands out, a lot more alert now. “Let’s all take a minute here. Everybody stop, and breathe.”

  “Yes, please.” Trevor remained leaned back in his chair.

  After a moment, Madison pushed herself off the credenza, standing up straight. “I happen to think it’s an excellent idea, Dev.”

  Everyone stared at her again, and Roark’s mouth fell open a bit.

  “I do.” She put one hand in the air and began ticking things off on her fingers. “First, some of the businesses were enthusiastic enough to give Dev, a wonderful but admittedly inexperienced handler in such matters, deposits, so if Honeywilde made a show of sponsoring the event, I imagine most, if not all, businesses will follow suit. Two, we put a little money into the event and, as I believe is customary, ask for a percent of sales or charge for space, however it works. Even if we don’t make a profit, we break even.”

  “Advertise the hell out of it,” Sophie added. “We don’t have much time if we want to have it before the Fourth of July, but we get the word out and bring tourists in.”

  Devlin watched them go. Both of them brainstorming, both supporting hi
m, both smart as hell.

  Anna would get along with them like a house on fire.

  If they ever had the chance to meet her.

  With a smile, Sophie nudged Dev. “Good for you for getting out there and trying. I know going to all those people, putting yourself out there like that, couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  Roark’s gaze shot to his, realization finally dawning all over his face.

  Yes, Devlin had stuffed his pride in his pocket and gone to some of the same people who’d talked trash about him for so many years—and asked them for support.

  Roark didn’t say anything, but a hundred different emotions danced across his face. The protective big brother wondering if he was okay, the business owner concerned for the resort, and the man, who’d stood by Devlin for years, believing in him and berating him in equal measure.

  “I—I didn’t think about that, Dev. I’m . . .” He nodded, mostly to himself, and reached for his coffee, taking a sip before he spoke again. “Good for you. It’s great that you’re doing this. I just, I want to be sure we have all our bases covered. I want us to discuss this as a family, so we’re all on the same page.”

  “Yes!” Soph jumped into the positive opening Roark left. The hint of possibility in his tone. “We need to all be on the same page before we move forward with the Blueberry Festival.”

  Before, not if.

  “All in favor?” she rushed to ask.

  Everyone’s hand shot up, except for Roark, who appeared to be in a mild state of shock.

  Trevor kept his hand in the air, even after everyone else’s was lowered. “And we could each take on a job so it’s not too much work on any one person.”

  A telling hush fell over the room.

  “Yes, I’m offering to take on a job. What? I’m here too, right? And the festival sounds like fun. Unlike putting a new roof on Cabin One.”

  “Dev, how much money do you have in deposits, total?” Sophie asked.

  “With what we collected the other day, plus a few businesses that contacted me yesterday, almost fifteen hundred dollars.”

  Trevor let out a high-pitched whistle as Sophie’s smile grew impossibly bigger.

  “We’d need a lot more than that to cover costs,” Roark pointed out. “I’m not saying no,” he quickly added. “I’m not. Merely . . . pointing out facts.”

  “There are a lot more in deposits to be taken. We only hit six places this week, two called, that leaves more than half of Main Street untapped, not to mention the businesses off Main.”

  Roark’s eyebrows bobbed. “Okay. Just . . . let me talk through the major points and potential issues, and if it’s possible . . .” He looked around and Dev followed his gaze. This was the most rapt attention Roark had ever received at one of these meetings. “If it’s at all possible, we’ll do it. We’ll sponsor the Blueberry Festival.”

  Sophie clapped, and Madison smiled at Roark with no small amount of admiration.

  “But—and this is a big but here—if we can’t make the festival work and it looks like it’ll sink us into a money pit, we simply can’t. Every step of the way we need to be sure. Not because I don’t want to, but because we have to do what’s best for Honeywilde.”

  They reviewed the logistics, every detail from who would be best suited to cover what aspect of the festival planning, to where to rent the pop-up vendor tents, to how much of a percentage to take from sales. They all agreed that keeping the event small, its first year in revival, was best.

  Roark made a quick list of every item he could think of to worry about, and as each one was checked off by those in the room who had a solution, the knot in Devlin’s chest loosened. Hope spread in its place.

  Maybe he could do this. He’d taken on a huge task, something that he believed in and enjoyed, and maybe he could make it work. If he pulled this off, for once he would be known as the guy who’d revived the town’s favorite event, and helped local businesses, and did something positive. Not the guy who wreaked havoc all over town.

  The meeting wrapped up, and Madison took Trev’s vacated seat, leaning in to talk. “I could use some of my contacts for promotion and advertising too. Some people at a few of the magazines and papers still owe me favors for getting them pictures of the wedding. I might be able to get a last-minute spot for the festival, at no cost. Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “That’d be great.” Exposure from a big magazine could make all the difference.

  Sophie leaned over the arm of her chair too. The two of them hovering near Dev like bees. “We should come up with something clever for the ad. Something that’d entice a ton of day tourists.”

  “Yes.” Madison chewed at the corner of her lip as she thought.

  Lightning struck. Dev knew an advertising genius; all he had to do was ask her. “I might be able to come up with something really catchy.”

  “You?” Sophie cocked an eyebrow.

  “Sure. I mean . . . give me a day to think about it. Brainstorm and stuff, but yes. I can come up with something.” Otherwise known as waiting until Anna was back from her visit with her mom so she could help him come up with something.

  “When you do, ping me and let me know. I’ll see what I can get printed.” Madison got up to speak with Roark, and Sophie walked out with Dev, still studying him like he had food stuck on his face.

  “What?”

  “Since when do you know anything about being catchy?”

  “I know stuff,” Dev insisted.

  She didn’t say anything, but her expression disputed plenty.

  Dev didn’t know shit about being catchy, and they both knew it.

  “That girl who was scared of Beau was in advertising though, wasn’t she?”

  Hellfire. How? Sophie met Anna one time, for maybe five minutes. She couldn’t possibly pick up on all she did.

  “I don’t remember. Was she?”

  “Dev.” His sister stopped walking, lowering her voice and her chin.

  “Fine. I’m pretty sure she was, but that’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “When you were talking about going into town, talking to the business owners, you kept on saying we. We did this and we got that.”

  “No, I did—” Shit. Yes, he had.

  “Now, nobody else seemed to notice, but nobody else is me. Either you’ve got an imaginary friend, or someone is helping you. And my money is on the pretty girl.”

  He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. His little sister stared him down, waiting to see who’d crack first.

  “Soph, please don’t rat me out.” Of course he cracked first. “It’s not anything bad, I swear.”

  With her hand up between them, she shook her head. “I’m not going to rat you out. C’mon, this is me we’re talking about. Besides, who am I to judge anyone else’s dating habits or love life?”

  “Did you have another bad date last night? Is that why you were so grumpy this morning?”

  “Um, do you want me asking about your dates? Because I sure don’t want to talk about mine.”

  “Good point.”

  “But you better be careful. The last thing you need is some fun with a guest, flying up and biting you in the ass.”

  “I know.” But he wasn’t about to stop seeing her. How could he? He’d debated his attraction and intentions at first; now there was no other option. He liked Anna—a lot—and all he had was another week and a half with her. He wasn’t about to throw on the brakes now.

  Since when had he ever thrown the brakes on anything? Sure as hell wasn’t starting now.

  She’d be back from visiting her mom by tomorrow, and he couldn’t wait to tell her his family was behind him. He’d have their help and support, and he owed so much of that to Anna. He wanted to celebrate somehow—and then work his ass off to make the festival a reality—but first celebrate, with her.

  And prove to her she was as extraordinary as he’d insisted.

  Chapter 19

  The prospect of spending time with her moth
er gnawed at her for months, and the longer she’d put it off, the bigger the bites.

  Anna tightened her grip on the steering wheel, wishing she was already down the road and back again. Get in, get out, don’t pay any attention to what her mother might say and, no matter what happened, do not play the game.

  That was the plan, and she had to stick to it this time.

  Anna pulled up at the two-story colonial in Fort Mill, letting the engine run. The sights and the flood of memories rushed toward her, surrounding the car, filling it until she could drown.

  The tree where her father built her a tire swing—the swing was gone now, naturally. The row of azaleas where she’d had her prom picture taken every year, and every year her mother pointed out what was not quite perfect about the dress or her hair or her size, or all three.

  “Get in, get out, and don’t pay attention. Do not play the game.” She repeated the plan out loud, counted to ten, and got out of the car.

  After ringing the doorbell twice and knocking, her mother finally answered.

  “There you are.” Her mother tossed her hands up like she’d been the one waiting at the door. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show.”

  “I told you I’d be here right around lunch. It’s not even one o’clock.” Dang it. She shouldn’t have even argued that much. Any attempt at defending herself would fall on deaf ears.

  If her mother believed herself the sufferer, there was no changing her mind.

  She pushed open the glass door to let Anna in.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t lie down for a nap or I would’ve missed you. You’d have come all this way for nothing.”

  The bluster was completely for show. She didn’t nap. She’d never napped a day in her life. For one, she thought naps in the middle of the day were lazy, or something old people did. Second, and more importantly, it’d mess up her hair and makeup.

  Anna followed her mother through the foyer to the sitting room used only for formal company.

  The furniture was stiff and ornate, in pale colors that dared you to spill a drop.

  Her father hated this room and so did Anna, and she’d never once sat in here, as though she were company to be received. She might as well be a door-to-door salesperson or church deacon.