A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  “What the hell?”

  “Shh!” Sophie reprimanded him.

  He read the letter again, certain he’d misread.

  For Main Street and all adjacent streets.

  The pressure began at the base of his skull. As he stomped into Roark’s office, the pain only got worse.

  “Crawford is pulling the plug on us.”

  Roark stopped sifting through papers. “What?”

  “The weasel at the tourism office. He’s trying to shut down the festival because he knows it’ll be a success.”

  “Wha—” His brother shook his head. “Slow down. Who and how can he shut us down?”

  Dev tossed the letter on top of the other pile of papers on Roark’s desk. “Crawford is the head of the tourism office, the one who wouldn’t give me any information on the festival’s financials, and he’s a little shit.”

  Roark picked up the letter, reading quietly as his expression turned graver and graver. “Shit.”

  “That’s what I said. And he’s causing us a world of it by trying to block the road closures.”

  “But we already had approval for Main Street. How did this happen?” Roark waved the letter at Dev. “This came from Transportation. Crawford isn’t part of that office.”

  “I know, but they all know each other. They all get in each other’s ears. Bastards.”

  He should’ve known this would happen. Something somewhere was bound to go wrong. It always did. Since when had anything ever been easy in his life?

  “We could work around not having any side streets, but Main Street has to be closed. It’s where all the vendors set up; all the pedestrian traffic.”

  “I know, Roark. That’s why Crawford is blocking it.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Makes plenty of sense to me. He doesn’t want this festival to happen.”

  “Why wouldn’t he—Dev, that doesn’t make any sense either.”

  “Yes, it does. Remember when I went to ask him about the books? The profit and loss numbers for the festival?”

  Roark ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I remember.”

  “He acted suspicious about the whole thing, and basically told us not to hold our breath on getting any help from him. So we move ahead without pressing him, and I hear from the shops in town how much they used to get charged to participate. Thousands of dollars, Roark. It’s outrageous. But everyone wants in again, because we aren’t charging that much, we’re down to the home stretch, and now he’s blocking us. Why wouldn’t he want this for the town?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do. The guy skimmed money off the festival for years, and shut it down when he couldn’t cover his tracks anymore. He doesn’t want the Blueberry Festival to happen, because for years his office claimed the thing was a big loser. We bring it back and it’s a raging success, he either looks suspicious as hell or incompetent.”

  Roark shook his head, mouth open, set to argue.

  “No, I mean it. You should’ve seen him that day, and all we did was ask politely. And as the planning has gone on, we’ve seen the money people are willing to invest. The vendors all say the festivals were profitable; you’ve seen yourself the kind of crowds the festival draws. If that many people and that much sales end in a loss, it’s got to be because someone is misusing funds.”

  “Misuse of—Dev, you can’t throw around terms like that and not know what you’re talking about.”

  “I do know what I’m talking about. I went to business school, same as you, just you got the piece of paper and I didn’t. I’ve been out there, talking to the shop- and store-owners. I know what they went through. I also got this copy of the books, probably from Crawford’s admin, and nothing adds up. Vendors were paying a grand, and tourism only tracked two thirds of that. Where’s the rest?”

  “Dev.” Roark threw his hands up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Crawford. I know he’s up to something and I think his admin sent me proof.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

  “I was handling this myself. And I was going to follow up later, but now he’s shutting us down.”

  He and Anna had talked about it. How, if the festival was a failure, it had to be because of something shady. He hadn’t run to his brother, because he didn’t want to. He wanted to do this without Roark carrying the load, but if he had to take on the tourism office, he couldn’t do it alone.

  “You can’t insinuate misappropriation of funds and expect anything to happen except for the whole thing blowing up in your face.”

  “News flash, boss.” Dev grabbed the letter and shook it under Roark’s nose. “The whole thing has already blown up in my face. Who’d say no to something that draws in people and money and business and helps everyone? No one.”

  His brother’s shoulders slumped as he paced behind his desk. “Maybe we should’ve . . .”

  “What?”

  “We moved forward on this event without having all our T’s crossed. I never do that, and I shouldn’t have this time either. If we didn’t have a contracted green light from the city, we never should’ve moved forward. I should’ve stuck with my policy and waited, but you were so excited—”

  “So now it’s my fault you’re giving up?”

  “I’m not giving up. You said it yourself. Crawford’s office is shutting us down.”

  “But—”

  “They said no, Dev. We can’t force the powers that be in Windamere to go along with this, and I am not going to push back with accusations I can’t prove. We can’t accuse people of breaking the law without proof.”

  “Why the hell not? They did it to me. For years.” The knot twisted tighter. Filling him until the pressure against his ribs made it hard to breathe. Blood rushed into his ears, making it hard to hear.

  This wasn’t fair. They couldn’t do this to him again. He was doing right by people now, and if this festival fell apart, he’d be that same loser, all over again.

  Roark settled a hand on his shoulder, making him look up.

  The sympathy in his brother’s eyes made him want to lash out even more.

  “I know you got blamed for stuff. And I hated it.”

  But plenty of the stuff he did do. The worst of it was all true. Roark didn’t say the words, but they both knew.

  “You can’t do the same to someone else because the festival didn’t work out. The last thing we need is to get on the bad side of the local government. We piss this guy off and he can make it difficult to get anything accomplished for years to come.”

  “Piss him off? What about us? What about everybody else? If he’s up to something, he’s going to screw everybody over. Maybe you should think about that.”

  “I have to think about protecting Honeywilde, and our future. This place doesn’t keep moving on the positive path we’re on, we’re all lost. And homeless.”

  “Dammit, Roark. You don’t get it.” And he never would.

  They had a chance to actually call out the bad guy here and do something right, but it meant stepping out on a ledge and taking that chance. Risking safety because he knew something was right or wrong.

  And as much as he admired his brother and respected him, they were two totally different people. Roark wasn’t going to take that risk.

  He saw the world organized in black and white. Things you did, things you didn’t do. Authority was usually right, and people were all as stand-up and honest as he was.

  But Devlin knew better.

  He’d had plenty of people, including those who were supposed to love him, those in authority, do wrong by him, all because it made their lives easier. Most folks weren’t as honest, caring, or forthright as Roark.

  Hell, no one was as honest and forthright as Roark, but most didn’t even come close.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” Dev demanded.

  Roark dropped his hand, a rough sound of frustration as he turned. “Help you what, Dev?”


  “Help me figure out what this guy is up to and go on with the festival. Make this right.”

  If Roark wouldn’t help him, he was screwed.

  He’d have to go to all of those businesses, all of those people who’d finally looked at him like he had a clue, like he was somebody, and tell them there’d be no festival.

  He’d have to tell them they were right all along. He was a screwup, and he’d failed everyone, again.

  Chapter 26

  She was halfway packed; the rest remained scattered upstairs in her bedroom or downstairs, all over her kitchen and bathroom.

  But those weren’t really hers, were they?

  Anna looked around the cabin. Not her kitchen, not her cabin, and not her sofa that she sat on, denying her checkout date was two days away.

  Her sofa was back in Atlanta. Perfect and rarely used, with the accent pillows picked out by someone she’d paid way too much money.

  Here, she’d relaxed on the sofa. Napped, watched television. Made out with Devlin. She’d bathed in the tub, made grilled cheese and hot chocolate in the kitchen, and had sex in the bed. And in the kitchen.

  How could a tiny log cabin feel more comfortable, more personally a part of her, than her condo of over five years?

  And upstairs, on the chest of drawers by the bed, sat her father’s ashes.

  Before she left, she had to do this for him. She’d found the perfect spot, and still she put off fulfilling his wish, but now she had to say goodbye.

  Goodbye to her father and goodbye to Devlin.

  She was an idiot for leaving, but she had no choice. This place wasn’t real life, and even though they’d talked about her coming back to visit, once she left, nothing would be the same.

  She knew how distance worked. Her father was often gone with his job, and while he was there for Anna, she’d seen what it did to her parents’ relationship.

  You couldn’t be close while being miles apart, and that’s where she’d be. Hours away, working—maybe not eighty-hour weeks again, but certainly more than forty. With her commute, she’d rise before dawn, work until nightfall, and maybe have a few weekends free. She could come see him some, but it’d rarely happen vice versa.

  Dev worked more on the weekends than any other time, and with the festival a month away . . .

  “Dammit.” Anna put her socked feet on the sofa and pulled her knees up, resting her head on them.

  This was real life. And it sucked.

  Outside of Honeywilde and her vacation, she had responsibilities, an identity. She was Anna, from Atlanta, advertising genius and youngest executive at the agency.

  When she first saw Devlin, she saw the opportunity for fun, distraction. Even when they’d first kissed, her opinion remained the same, but sometime after, between hauling plants and picnics at midnight, everything changed.

  How, during the course of learning how to take it easy, had she fallen so hard?

  She knew better, she was smarter than this, but the fact remained.

  Her chest ached with the inevitable loss.

  Maybe she could deny that she was leaving, but there was no denying the feeling of desertion already in her heart.

  It made no sense. She was the one leaving, not him. But Dev had a rich life here.

  For all his talk about her having a life and success, he was the one with a family, a future, possibilities, and happiness.

  She had a career, a wildly successful one, but the job didn’t care about her. It didn’t help her through her grief or appreciate her. And she didn’t love her job the way she loved Dev.

  Because she did. She loved him.

  And as scary as they were, her feelings were real, and she knew how much it’d break her heart when he let her walk out of here.

  She had to tell him. Whether or not it’d change anything, he deserved to know she loved him. But then... she’d only hurt them worse by speaking her heart and then leaving.

  “God.” Anna scrubbed her hands through her hair, the way she’d watched Dev do a million times, and pulled hard.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  Three rapid thumps on the cabin door made her jump.

  “Who is it?” She unfolded herself from the couch.

  “Dev.” The rough edge to his voice wasn’t the good kind.

  Before she got the door completely open, he was inside. “That son of a bitch shut us down.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Crawford. He got the transportation department to decline our application for closing Main Street.” A white piece of paper was thrust toward her.

  She read the letter carefully, and Devlin was right about the declined application. Whether or not it was Crawford’s doing, the letter didn’t state.

  “They’ve always approved the closure in the past, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s always been the tourism office applying.”

  “Is there any way to appeal? Someone you can talk to about reconsidering?”

  “In a town the size of Windamere? No. Crawford is probably drinking buddies with the head of transportation. We’re screwed. The festival is off.”

  “No.” The word burst out of her with certainty. “It can’t be off; people are expecting a festival. They’re counting on you.”

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I want to go around to all those people who finally trusted me, look them in the eyes, and tell them I failed?”

  “You didn’t fail. There has to be something we can do.”

  “What can we do? You’re leaving in two days. What can you do from Atlanta?”

  The truth was harsh, stealing her breath, but it was still true.

  Dev turned his back on her, walking over to the fireplace and the little wooden bear. “Sorry. That was . . . sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she muttered. Lying. None of this was okay. “I’m here now. Maybe I can help. What did Roark say?”

  “That we’re finished. He’s not about to accuse Crawford of any wrongdoing, so we’re sunk. Roark won’t get the resort involved in something that could be a money pit or upset the powers that be. Not now that we finally have one foot on solid ground. Not after what my parents went through, almost losing the place.”

  “But if Roark knew the whole story, if you told him how shady the guy was, he’d listen. You’d have his support, I know it.”

  “No, you don’t. After what he’s been through with me?” Dev’s laugh was acidic. “Roark is not going to go against Windamere and cause a stink with the town, over me.”

  Anna marched toward him and stood in front of the bear. “Then you do something about it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If you can’t confront Crawford or go through him, go around him. You don’t need Roark. Go to the business owners in town and tell them everything is set to go, but the permit was denied. And you’re still having the festival.”

  Dev shook his head. “I can’t face them and tell them I failed.”

  “You haven’t failed. You can show them the accounting information. See if any of it jibes with their records. If the money doesn’t match up, you could threaten Crawford with a formal complaint.”

  He stared at her, eyes wide. “My word against Crawford’s?”

  “Why not? You’re the honest businessman trying to hold a legitimate event.”

  “I . . .” He shook his head again.

  “You’ll have to face the local businesses regardless. Even if threatening Crawford doesn’t work fast enough, they still deserve to know. In the meantime, you keep advertising the event exactly as is. Worst case scenario, the festival takes place in their respective shops. They can put things on sale. That kind of thing.”

  “Worst case scenario? Trust me, that isn’t the worst case. You’re talking about me taking on the city. Me. Asking the people in town to trust me over a government board.”

  Anna moved closer to him. “You know he’s guilty.”

  “Yes, but Roark said he couldn�
�t—”

  “I’m not talking about your brother. I’m talking about you. What you can do.”

  “I told these people I’d get them the Blueberry Festival they used to have. Not that they’d need to redline items and host it in their shops. I’m supposed to have downtown blocked off to cars, open to pedestrians, lots of foot traffic.”

  “You can still have foot traffic.”

  “But I told them—”

  “I know what you told them. I was there. Even though I’m some big secret and no one is supposed to know I exist, I do. And I was there.”

  Dev went completely still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She blinked, realizing what she’d said. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. But I know those shop owners will believe in you and accept any changes that have to happen. They’ll understand. They know the event won’t be perfect the first year out. Della even said she wasn’t expecting much, but any move in that direction is what matters.”

  Dev stared through her, his focus on something far beyond her, and beyond her control. “You don’t get it.”

  “I get that you don’t want to go to these people, hat in hand, asking for their help and trust. You’re afraid to open yourself up to any kind of judgment, but you’re not that screwed-up kid anymore. And they won’t think you are.”

  His jaw went rigid.

  “I know it won’t be easy.” She took his hand. If he’d just look at her, she could make him understand. “Those people might think you messed up, but that doesn’t mean you’re still that same guy. You’re not a teenager causing trouble, you’re not hurting anyone. You’re trying to help, and they know it. They’ll understand. You’re the one who can’t accept it.”

  Dev pulled his hand away, refusing to look at her.

  “You can do this, you know. Plan this whole festival and make everything happen, all by yourself. You could’ve done everything these past few weeks. You don’t need your brother and you don’t need me.”

  Finally his gaze crashed into hers. “You’re so wrong. You have no idea.”

  “Then go to your brother and I’ll back you up. I spoke to Crawford too, I saw those ledger entries. I’ll support you.”