A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  He blinked, still staring. “You . . . you came up with all of that? Right then?”

  She blinked too, her heart pounding, eyes starting to mist. “I . . . I did. Oh my god, Dev. I did it! I came up with a slogan.” She threw herself into his arms, squeezing him, squeezing her eyes shut.

  A few minutes, and she’d brainstormed something that didn’t suck. Months of dull, uninspired, crap ideas, and now this. Her dry spell was over. She’d found her spark.

  “I’m impressed.” Dev’s voice brushed against her ear.

  “Thanks. I am too. I used to be able to do that all the time, and now . . . maybe it’s back.”

  “I knew you could sell. I heard you with the locals, but not like that. That was . . . damn.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll tell Madison. I’ll give her your idea and she’ll know how to get the graphics together. Probably take a few days, but I can show you the finished ad when we have it.”

  Warmth surrounded her. Even sitting out on an overlook, cold rock beneath her, the light of the sun slowly fading, she was warm inside.

  “This festival is going to knock people’s socks off.” Dev smiled, pride making his eyes even brighter.

  Seeing him like this, surrounded by all the beauty of the mountains—the view of the sunset, of the valley and ridgeline beyond it—he remained the best sight she’d seen since she got here.

  Anna’s spirit grew lighter as the sky grew darker, her soul buoyant. Like she could fly right off the side of the mountain and ride on the wind.

  Dev was a blast of fresh air that blew through her worries, scattering them to the wind, chasing her reservations away. With him, she could be carefree. She’d been able to find a bit of the peace and calm she was searching for, and the relaxation.

  In the least restful way possible, she’d learned how to relax. Working with Dev, real manual labor with him, going on adventures, and having sex—and through it all, she’d been revived.

  She was dealing and healing, and he was realizing who he could be. They were helping each other, and nothing had ever felt so right.

  Or so real.

  Chapter 23

  “What are the pink Post-its for again?” Dev flicked the edge of one back and forth.

  He’d been in Sophie’s room, staring at the poster boards with her, for over an hour. They were trying to figure out where to put all the vendors that’d signed up, with more joining every day.

  “Stop jiggling them.” Sophie slapped her hand over the Post-it. “You’ll mess them up and they’ll lose all their sticky.”

  “Someone’s been working with Roark for too long.” He threw both hands in the air and backed away from the table. Mostly, he was kidding. Sophie was invaluable, working extra hours to get the logistics ironed out.

  When he’d asked if she was sure she wanted to add so much to her workload, along with everything else, her answer was the more work the better. That’d set his brotherly radar on alert, but she insisted she merely wanted to help.

  With Sophie’s help, and a little creativity, he’d managed to still see Anna in between his festival responsibilities.

  He’d seen Anna every day since he’d told her the good news about the festival.

  Since she’d gotten him to open up about his past.

  Something he never thought he’d do, never wanted to do, until her. At first, opening up was like the time he had a tooth drilled, but then, everything came pouring out, and she didn’t hate him for it. Didn’t condemn or judge him. Best of all, she still wanted to be with him, so they could spend every free moment of her vacation together.

  But it wasn’t enough time. Three days was all she had left of her stay. They’d hiked, ridden his bike. He’d made her paddle-boat out with him to the floating dock to assess the work required to get it back up to code—a lot, it turned out.

  And they’d eagerly had sex every time the mood struck them, on every one of their adventures. Except for the paddleboats.

  Tomorrow, Anna’s ad ran in all the local papers. He wanted to celebrate with her, and he had the perfect idea how.

  “Come back here.” Sophie waved him over and straightened the boards on her work table. “Don’t touch the Post-its, but I need you to look at them.”

  Dev carefully approached the table, hands behind his back. “The pink ones are for food vendors, because that makes sense.”

  “It does?”

  Sophie bumped him out of the way and went on explaining. “Blue is for crafts, merchandising, et cetera. And green is for produce, plants, livestock.”

  “Livestock.” He chuckled.

  “Hey. The Greenlees will bring some chickens to sell. They always did before.”

  “I know. I seem to remember a little redheaded girl rolling back up to the resort with a guinea hen and Mom having a fit.”

  “And I remember my dear brother telling me a hen was a great idea, and giving me money so I could bring Gretel home.”

  He laughed. Even now, the guinea hen story was funny as hell. Gretel was a diva hen if there was one, and she refused to stay in a roost. Ever.

  “But Mom let me keep her.”

  Of course she had. Their mom had a soft spot for Sophie. Not as rowdy as the boys, at least not when their mom was looking, and orphaned.

  Sophie had been their chance to do something right, together, as a family. One of the few times, but they’d done pretty good.

  “You’re doing a great job with the layout, Soph.” He bumped her with his elbow, which resulted in her bumping him back, twice as hard, and this went back and forth until it ended in her knuckle punching him in the arm.

  “When are you going to grow up?” Dev rubbed his arm. Sophie punched hard.

  “That’s not immaturity, that’s revenge.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s something and I’m sure you deserve it.”

  A knock at her door stopped him from getting her back. “Who the . . . Who is it?” she called out.

  “It’s Wright.”

  She spun on Dev. “Why is Wright here?”

  “Because I asked him.”

  “Why?”

  “To help us look over the layout.”

  “I thought that was my job.”

  “It is, but we’ve got about two dozen food vendors and not enough space. He’s our foodie. I figured he could give some insight on what should go where and who’s on what end of Main. How we could consolidate. I don’t know.”

  A furrow formed between her brows.

  “Is that . . . okay?” He was almost afraid to ask.

  Wright and Sophie had always been friends. Wright was basically part of the family, but judging by the frown putting all of her freckles in a twist, Soph wasn’t too pleased with his appearance.

  “I’m not giving him your job, Sis. You know I trust you to handle this. It’s nothing like that, but I thought he could give us an opinion.”

  “He’s got opinions all right.” She rolled her eyes.

  The last thing he wanted was for his baby sister to think he was stepping over her, not trusting her or superseding her in any way. He knew all too well how that shit felt, and he’d be damned if he’d do it to someone else. But he got the feeling her issue with Wright’s presence wasn’t all about treading on her role in planning the festival.

  Her scowl disappeared; in its place a smooth, placid calm—that was twice as disturbing as when she looked angry. “It’s fine. Wright can be here if he wants. And he can give us his recommendations, but I’m not guaranteeing I’ll take them.”

  “Okay.” Dev frowned as he went to answer the door.

  She always took Wright’s advice. In the past, Dev had actually gotten Wright to suggest things to Sophie, knowing she was more likely to listen to Wright, when she’d flat out told Dev to shove it.

  “Hey.” Dev opened the door and found a man who looked like he was being led to the slaughter.

  “Okay. What’s going on?
You look scared, and Sophie is in a foul mood. It’s messing with the balance of my universe.”

  Wright waved him closer. Stepping back from the door and keeping his voice low, he scrubbed a hand over his hair.

  “Listen.” His face was a muted pink. “Now’s probably not the best time for me to weigh in on the tent setup and stuff Sophie is handling.”

  “Okay, but why? First she looks ready to spit nails when I say you’re coming over, and now you won’t even come inside.”

  Wright crossed his arms, swiped at his face, dropped his arms and shifted around. “I think I pissed her off.”

  “Yeah, no shit. What’d you do?”

  “Nothing really. I said something stupid. She’s not going to listen to a thing I have to say, and I can assure you she doesn’t want me here.”

  Wright was a good guy, and had about the most even-keeled disposition of anyone at Honeywilde. With him, things always seemed to be “okay.” The only time he got in a twist was about food—be it really great food, or when things turned out really, really bad. Otherwise, he was at chill level ten.

  To see him on the back foot now didn’t sit well.

  “Well, tough shit. I want you here, and I want to hear your opinions. I also need the both of you to do something for me.”

  “Something with the festival?”

  “No. Later tonight.”

  “Dev. Now is not the time—”

  “Soph owes me one and I’m calling in a favor from you. A small one. Won’t take you an hour. Now get in here.” He shoved his best friend toward the door.

  Wright dragged his feet, but eventually made it inside. Sure enough, Sophie gave him a look that’d kill a lesser man.

  But Wright didn’t wither. He stared back at her, dead on, like he was ready for battle. “I told Dev I’d give him my opinion, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  Sophie didn’t so much as blink, and Wright faltered for a second, but caught himself.

  Dev imagined tumbleweeds blowing through the room, saloon music in the background, that’s how ridiculous this was. They weren’t the type to keep grudges or hold on to their anger, so whatever little spat they’d had, they could both hurry up and get over it.

  Wright was the one to break off the stare to look at Dev. “What is it you want to know about the festival and tonight?”

  “What’s tonight?” That got Soph’s attention.

  “First”—Dev pointed to the large board on the table between them—“the festival.”

  He got both of them to focus enough to work on the layout of the tents, and eventually they found a way for the big vendors to all fit on Main Street, but he’d have to get approval from the city to set up on two or three side streets.

  “They used those streets when the festival was at its peak.”

  “They close these down for the Christmas parade too.” Wright pointed to the board. “The application for closure is simple, and it’s easily approved.”

  His parents headed up the Christmas parade every year, so he’d know.

  “Perfect. I applied the other day. Is there anything else we’re not thinking of?”

  They glanced back and forth at each other over the table, but no one could come up with anything.

  “Great. Then I need you both to do me a favor.”

  “Wary” wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the looks on their faces.

  “Soph, I need you to take my shift at the restaurant tonight. Wright, I need you to cook that steak thing I love.”

  “The flank steak with the field greens and—”

  “The crusty bread. Yes. To go.”

  Wright’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

  “And why should I take your shift at the restaurant? It’s your shift.”

  “Because you owe me a favor and I’m calling it in. Fifty-plus ferns and plants, remember?” He turned to Wright. “I need the dinner to-go because I’m going on a picnic.”

  “Does this have anything to do with—” Sophie caught herself, and asked the rest out of the corner of her mouth. “You know who?”

  “Maybe. Are you going to cover my shift or not?”

  Her eyes to heaven, she nodded. “I guess. But then we’re even. No more owesies.”

  “Who is you-know-who?” Wright asked.

  Sophie turned on him, her arms still crossed. “That’s Dev’s business. Are you going to make the picnic or not?” Every sharp feature of her face dared Wright to say no. Even her button nose appeared harsh.

  He didn’t know what Wright had done to gain such ire, but it’d better not be anything too shady. All the usual bickering was fine. Anything more and, friend or not, Wright would catch hell from him.

  “I’ll make the picnic. Damn.” Wright crossed his arms as well.

  “Excellent. Thank you. Now, excuse me. I’m going to get ready.” Dev backed away from the table.

  “I’ll go with you.” Wright turned and beat Dev to the door.

  Rather than wait and, with his perfect manners, hold the door for whoever was behind him, Wright marched through it and headed down the hall as fast as his overlong legs could carry him.

  From the open doorway, Dev tossed a glance back at Sophie. “You care to tell me what the hell that was all about?”

  “No.” She grabbed one of her boards off the table, then seemed to catch herself and held the presentation gently. “It’s nothing.”

  “You sure?” His big brother alarms were going off. Made his hackles rise up, even when it came to Wright.

  “Of course I’m sure. I’m just annoyed. Wright’s a guy. You’re all annoying at some point.” With her board in her hands, she turned away, his cue to leave pretty obvious.

  Just as well. Dev didn’t have a decent rebuttal anyway.

  Chapter 24

  “This is the dressiest thing I packed.” No matter where she went, she always took a little black dress. Because, like now, you never knew when you might need one.

  “You look . . .” Devlin stepped back from the door, his gaze wandering up and down. “Amazing.”

  “You too.”

  He had on dark blue slacks and a crisp, white button-up shirt. In the weak light of her porch, his eyes shone brighter, his face more intent, serious, and impossibly, even more handsome.

  “If you’re ready, we can go.”

  “Since I have no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing, sure. I’m ready.”

  A small smile curled his lips. “You’ll see.” He held out his arm, at the perfect angle for her to place her hand and be escorted.

  They made their way down the stairs of her cabin and into his SUV. After that, a short drive, farther along the gravel road, until the road turned to dirt, and then not much of a road at all.

  “Are we on a path of any kind here or merely hoping for the best?”

  “There’s a path, trust me.”

  Eventually he stopped and put the car into park. “It’s right through those trees.”

  From all she could tell, they were in the middle of the woods, certain to lose the car if they wandered more than a few feet from it.

  He grabbed a big basket from the backseat and opened her door, his hand out for her to hold. “Follow me.”

  “I’ll have to.”

  Dev had brought a flashlight—thank goodness—because the woods were pitch-dark, but they hadn’t walked far before she saw light, flickering through the trees.

  As they got closer, the dots of light became little solar lamps, stuck in the ground, lighting a path down to the lake’s edge. This side of the lake didn’t have a beach area, but the forest gave way to a small grassy opening, reeds and willows lining the water.

  In the middle of the opening lay a huge plaid blanket with solar lamps at each corner.

  “Hang on.” Dev set the basket in the middle of the blanket and walked in a wide circle.

  For a second she thought he’d dropped something and was searching, but then she saw what he was up to.

  With
a long barbecue lighter, Dev lit candles all around them.

  Anna put her hands to her mouth, but a small squeak escaped. “You did all this?”

  Devlin flashed a grin. “A candlelit dinner. You said you wanted one.”

  “This is so—”

  “Don’t say it. I know. But the candles are also functional. Citronella. In case any mosquitos think they want to snack on us.”

  He could say all he wanted about function. Anna saw through to the romance. If he wanted function, he would’ve taken her for a meal inside. Instead they were outside, by the lake, with candlelight. Between taking her sightseeing, rides on his bike, ice cream and long walks, Dev was clearly a dreamer and a doer, and a lover of passion and sentiment—and she adored that about him.

  “Here.” He knelt next to the large basket and patted the blanket. “Sit down.”

  She wanted nothing more.

  From the basket he pulled cream-colored china plates, a silver setting, and linen napkins.

  “This is—I’m so . . .” Words couldn’t do justice to the way she felt.

  No one had ever done anything like this for her before. She’d been on plenty of dates, usually one that acted as first and last, and that was the end of that. Never anything special and definitely not a picnic arranged especially for her.

  He finished unpacking, a spread of Tupperware between them and two mason jars full of tea over ice. “I wanted to take you on a date. A real date, with a nice meal and dressy location, but lately, by the time I’m done with my day, most places are closed. I can’t take you to the restaurant here. This seemed like a good alternative.”

  “This is better than good. Dev, this is amazing.”

  “You deserve it. The festival is going to be a hit, thanks to you.”

  She shook off the credit. The thanks were all due him. He’d helped her find her shiny ideas again. Her inspiration. Brought her back to life. “I only helped. It’s thanks to you, and your family.”

  Rather than argue, he lifted his mason jar. “Okay, then . . . how about us? We made this happen.”

  “Here’s to us.” She tapped her glass against his.