A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  Someone grabbed his hand, and as he turned around, Anna kissed him. “I can’t believe you didn’t spill the beans and tell me this week.”

  “It was killing me. But I wanted to surprise you.”

  She held his face, her fingers dancing across his jaw. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of us.” He kissed her back—this woman who’d believed in him when he didn’t. The woman who looked at him like he was wonderful, admirable, worthy of her trust and confidence.

  Dev pulled her into his arms and made a vow, right then and there. He’d work every day to be exactly the man Anna saw when she looked at him.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later...

  “Shut your face up. Blueberry cotton candy. Who knew?” Sophie shoved a puffy, light blue cloud of spun sugar in Dev’s face.

  “There’s—” With a sigh, he took the cotton candy from her, to get it out of the way. “There’s blueberry everything else. Why not cotton candy?”

  “Yeah, but it’s normally blue raspberry or something fake. Not blueberry.” She pulled off another fluffy bite and stuck it in her mouth. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Her taunting grin was of the annoying variety only little sisters could manage.

  “You love saying that, don’t you?”

  “I love that you’re probably going to be the first old married man in the family, yes.”

  Sophie was right. The way he and Anna were going, and the way his patience didn’t hold out for long, he’d probably ask Anna by the end of the year.

  Why wait years? When he knew, he knew.

  “She got a new account in Asheville, so she drove in to meet with them. But she should be here soon.”

  She’d been working her ass off for two weeks. As soon as she quit the agency in Atlanta, a head hunter called her about a firm in Charlotte. They knew all about her, and her talent. They didn’t care if she worked remote or lived in a mud hut. As long as she came into the office once a week and helped them get the largest accounts from the competition, Anna could do what she wanted.

  Including working forty-hour weeks.

  Right now she was still averaging about fifty-five, but it was an improvement.

  And that’s who Anna was. She loved what she did, and now that she could do it on her schedule, she loved it even more.

  She was driven, and he wouldn’t change a thing about her. Same way she wouldn’t change him.

  He’d probably propose in the fall, if he could wait that long. Some people would call it impulsive, too spontaneous. But that was him. And those were things Anna loved, and she helped him realize there was no reason to change.

  He could be reliable and responsible, and still take risks. Still be Devlin.

  “Hey.” Roark’s head stuck out above a crowd of people swarming the Della’s Delights tent.

  He waved at someone behind him and eventually he, Madison, and Wright made their way through the throng to join Dev and Sophie on the corner.

  “Sorry we’re late. I had to run by the tourism office and meet the interim director. Make nice-nice with her.”

  “Yeah, I had to do that yesterday.” Dev greeted his brother by handing over the bite of cotton candy.

  After he sweet-talked Crawford’s admin into giving him the rest of the committee’s financials, she made him promise to come back after they had new staff—not Ms. Hendricks though; she’d work there until retirement, no doubt—and say hello.

  Dev met the new interim board members, including Della, who’d volunteered, and tried his best not to look shocked when they asked him if he’d ever be interested in serving.

  “Not right now,” he’d said. “But maybe someday.”

  Now that he could believe in himself and those around him.

  “What’s this?” Wright pointed at the cloud of blue cotton candy in Sophie’s hand.

  She didn’t reply, and Dev side-eyed her as he pulled off a bite for his friend. “Blueberry cotton candy. I don’t know that it’s up to your culinary standards, but it’s good.”

  Wright shrugged and chewed. “Not bad. I like it.”

  Sophie took one big, intent step away, cutting a look aside, muttering under her breath. “Yeah, but you’ll deny it later.”

  Fine lines formed at the edges of Roark’s eyes as he gave Devlin a hard stare.

  Not the stare of decades past, when Devlin had screwed up or got caught making out with the preacher’s daughter, but a new kind of stare.

  The one they shared when they were on the same page.

  Sophie had the friendliest disposition of all of them, so when their little sister grew a chip on her shoulder, it was impossible to miss. For the curt attitude to be directed at Wright though, when they’d always been good friends . . . something was amiss.

  “There’s your girlfriend.” Sophie poked Dev and pointed down the crowded center of Main Street.

  Anna approached them, still in her gray summer suit and heels, easily the most overdressed person at the festival.

  And he loved that about her.

  He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and her inability to dress down—unless tubing. He wanted her from the moment he fell off a ladder and landed on her, and all she did was laugh.

  Laughing, planning, debating, loving, and even arguing with Anna—that’s what he wanted. Forever.

  “You ready?” he asked her.

  “I am.”

  “Where are y’all off to?” Sophie looked back and forth between them.

  “Something we have to do.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Right now? Can’t it wait?”

  He hooked his arm around his sister’s neck and drew her in so she had to walk with them as he and Anna left the group. “It’s waited long enough. Get a couple of those blueberry cobblers. We’ll be back after a while. And tonight, you and I are going to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You know what. You’re not the only one around here who pays attention.”

  Arms tight around his chest, Anna clung to Dev, her face in the wind.

  The knot in her chest, the ache in her heart, they were expected. Normal. Saying goodbye was supposed to hurt, but this time saying goodbye was the right thing to do.

  Dev navigated the dirt road carefully and parked his bike near the hidden path to the overlook.

  Anna climbed off the bike first. He opened the saddle bag and handed her the plain plastic box.

  She curled her fingers around the nondescript box. Something so basic, though it held something precious.

  Her heart filled, a sad resolve, like contentment, that only those who grieved understood. Those who’d come through the grief, however long it took, to the other side.

  This side meant life and finding happiness, where she could say goodbye while keeping the memories.

  She could love and laugh without guilt, and she could let go, knowing life moved on and everything was okay. Life was supposed to move on and keep going. Her father would be happy she’d found her way.

  “You want me to stay here or . . . ?”

  “No. Will you come with me?”

  Dev held out his hand, a look on his face like he’d go with her anywhere. They picked their way down the path, where it opened up to stone and sky.

  Anna walked right to the edge, unafraid.

  She was strong enough to do this. To stand on the edge and handle the hard parts of life, and come back from them.

  With a deep breath, she took the top off the box.

  Ashes.

  All that was left of her father. Except there was really so much more.

  He lived on in her. In her determination and sincerity, in her laughter.

  He would’ve liked Devlin. The fire in Dev’s spirit, the way he didn’t take anyone’s crap, and the kindness he refused to accept any credit for.

  If her father could meet him, he’d know she was safe, secure, and loved. He’d be happy for her, because she was happy.

  Finally.


  Anna scooped her hand into the box and held her hand out.

  The wind took him. Blew his ashes across the edge of the rocks, over the mountains, into the valley.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she let go, fulfilling her father’s last wish.

  Dev put his arm around her, lending his silent support.

  Handful after handful, she gave her father rest, peace, until he was gone.

  Gone, but not forgotten.

  She didn’t leave the edge when she was done. With Dev beside her, she stood stronger. Even with the drop and jagged rocks below, she was safe.

  In life, she was going to fall. They’d hit rocky places and nothing would be perfect, but they’d survive. She’d make her way because this was her life. The one she’d chosen, with the man she chose to share it with. Forever.

  Because she knew Dev was going to ask for forever. He thought he was sly, but not when it came to her.

  What he wanted was written all over his face, now that he’d stopped hiding.

  Dev would ask her to marry him, and she’d say yes, and they’d face every mountain and valley, every summit and sunrise. Together.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  Heather McGovern’s next Honeywilde Romance

  A TASTE OF TEMPTATION

  coming soon!

  Chapter 1

  “What’s that smell? Is something on fire?”

  Sophie cut her eyes at Devlin. “Do you mind? I’m mid-order here.” She needed Steve the bartender’s wish list so she could place a call to the vendor tomorrow. Then at least this one thing would be off her to-do list. “And I don’t smell anything.”

  She went back to leaning on the bar, writing down what Honeywilde’s bartender said he wanted. At the end, she added a few extras, just in case.

  One could never have enough swizzle sticks.

  “You seriously don’t smell that?” Her brother got up from his usual spot at a nearby table.

  Like her, Dev preferred doing all of his paper work after hours. He claimed it was the only time he could work without interruption. Yet here he was, doing a fantastic job of interrupting her.

  He walked past the bar, scowling and sniffing as he went.

  She and Steve shared a look.

  All summer long, Dev had been slightly left of center. Dev lived left of center, but this summer, even more so. In the weeks since he’d met and fallen in love with Anna, he swung back and forth between being completely distracted by love and totally fixated on random things. To the point that nothing could derail him.

  Like right now, and his insistence he smelled smoke.

  “I’m telling you, something is on fire.” Dev headed to the kitchen.

  He’d always had a flair for the dramatic, but Sophie eased off her stool to follow him anyway.

  Even on her tippy toes, she could barely see through the swinging doors’ small windows into the restaurant’s kitchen, but there were no flames or smoke that she could tell. Only Devlin being Devlin.

  She rolled her eyes as his pushed open the double doors that lead to the back. “You’re imagining things. The kitchen is not—holy shit the kitchen is on fire!”

  Sophie bolted through the doors. She pushed past her brother to find the stove engulfed in smoke and white clouds, Wright standing in the midst of it as he doused the open oven with a fire extinguisher.

  Her heart jack hammered against her ribs. She opened her mouth to say his name, fear choking off any sound.

  Steve rushed in and skidded to a stop beside her.

  “I’m okay.” Wright turned toward them, answering her unasked question. “Kitchen is okay. I saw the flames in time.” He cursed and sprayed the oven with the fire extinguisher one more time, though it did appear any fire was completely out. “That damn thing catching my oven on fire is all.” He jabbed his finger toward the racks of the oven.

  Sophie couldn’t make out what damn thing he meant, because the inside of the oven was all foamy white.

  Dev moved closer and glanced inside. “What is it?”

  Wright took a step back and slammed the extinguisher down on the prep table. “It was a pie. Jesus. About gave me a heart attack.”

  Him?

  Her chest aching, Sophie braced her hands on the other side of the prep table, trying to catch her breath. Her mind hadn’t had time to fully comprehend the scene before her. All she knew was Wright and fire, deadly flames, thoughts of him being injured, or worse.

  She’d had enough loss for one lifetime. She couldn’t handle losing anyone else.

  With a steadying breath, she loosened her grip on the table.

  Now was not the time or the place to crack up. Wright was fine. A little kitchen mishap.

  For over a month now, they hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other, and even then, only if it was necessary for their jobs. She’d frozen him out, with good reason, but the idea of him getting hurt . . .

  No. Just, no.

  “Are you all right?” Dev grabbed Wright’s shoulder, looking him over.

  There was a time Sophie would’ve done the same. Without a trace of self-consciousness, she would’ve put her hands on Wright, reassuring herself he was unharmed, still there for her, unwavering and steady. Her Wright.

  But those days were gone.

  “I’m fine. Adrenaline kicked in, damn heart is racing and I’m pissed off, but fine.”

  She managed to make her way to the shelves of glassware, plucked a short tumbler from its spot and, with shaking hands, got water straight from the tap. Mouth dry, if she spoke now, her shakiness and concern would be obvious.

  Wright couldn’t know how rattled she was. Their friendship embargo was her choice and her doing. Falling apart in front of him all because she thought he was hurt, would demolish the walls she’d put up.

  Those walls were there to protect her. They had to stay.

  But she had to do or say something. Dev had already given her the inquisition about her and Wright not speaking. If she remained silent after a kitchen fire, he’d be all over her again, wanting to know why.

  She refilled the glass again. With a nod, she placed it on the prep table, near Wright.

  He stared at her as Dev kept talking, but she was not going to make eye contact.

  “What were you baking?” Steve asked.

  “The goal was a bourbon-soaked cherry pie.”

  Dev clapped him on the back. “Man, if you’re soaking shit in bourbon, you might be asking for a few flames.”

  Before, Sophie would’ve given Wright hell about causing a fire too – or taken any chance to tease or pick at him, as he would with her. She’d have done so out of reflex and never thought twice.

  Now, she over-thought every interaction, and there’d be no way she could tease him. The loss twisted the empty spot inside her into a knot.

  Too much had happened; too many things had been said between them. Hurtful, angry words that couldn’t be taken back. They couldn’t return to the role of buddies who joked around with nothing heavy, no real weight, between them.

  And, instead of saying the sight of his kitchen, thick with smoke, filled her with fear and panic, she said nothing. Her hands on her ribs like her heart might suddenly break through, she simply stood there. Silent.

  Wright lightly shoved Dev, muttering a curse. “It wasn’t the bourbon. The butter dripped out of the pan and hit the coils. I made one without any issues, so I wasn’t hawk-eyeing the second one.”

  Dev turned to the unsinged pie, cooling on the counter. “I vote you keep trying. I’m willing to be the guinea pig if you need one.”

  “I’ll keep at it. Minus the flambé.” Wright glared at the stove, his jaw tight, hands curled into fists.

  He was clearly shaken, and more than a little angry at himself, no matter how much he joked about flambés. He always joked more when something bothered him, and right now he was rattled.

  Whether she was mad at him or not, it was her unofficia
l job in the family, and at Honeywilde, to soothe raw nerves. If she didn’t calm the waters, no one would.

  She clicked into operations manager mode. “Dev. Steve? We don’t want to use the good kitchen towels to clean up once everything cools. Why don’t you grab some of the housekeeping towels in storage downstairs?” If she could send Steve and her brother on a task, it’d give Wright a few minutes to bounce back.

  “Good idea. You sure you’re okay?” Dev checked on his best friend one last time.

  “Yeah, man. I’m great. Irritated, but great.”

  With a laugh and another pat, Dev left, with Steve right behind him.

  A moment passed before Wright turned to her, yet didn’t meet her gaze. “Thanks for that.”

  Suddenly, the privacy of the moment was unmistakable. She was alone with Wright, in the kitchen.

  A million times they’d been in here, chatting or commiserating, nothing new or unnerving – except for the one time it was.

  Lifting her gaze, she studied the top of Wright’s bent head.

  He was turning the fire extinguisher around; probably berating himself for what he believed was some great failure.

  Wright took his work very seriously, and no one was a harsher critic.

  “It’s a pie. No one got hurt.” She pointed out the facts that they both needed to hear.

  Wright jerked his chin up, their gazes colliding. “I know. But they could’ve. I’m a better chef than that. I wasn’t paying attention because. . .”

  Because of things like what’d happened between them in this very kitchen? Or things like breaking up with his girlfriend immediately after?

  “So stupid. I’ve made dozens of pies.”

  She hated feeling sympathy for Wright, especially after all that’d happened, but she did.

  It wasn’t stupid for him to have a lot on his mind. After the break up and how much his parents had probably flipped out about it.