Hometown Hope: A Small Town Romance Anthology

by Zoe York

  “You didn’t think it was pertinent information for the mayor to have? Sometimes I wonder what goes through that mind of yours…” He shook his head while Willow bit her tongue.

  Deep breaths, in and out. Right then was not the time to get into it. What she needed to do was smooth his ruffled feathers, and then attack her mile-long to-do list. She’d planned to have the Fourth of July signage done up and posted before he’d gotten back, and that plan was now shot to hell. Plus, she needed to tend to the empty planters since Miss Clementine broke her hip and hadn’t been able to fulfill her landscaping committee duties. Willow only hoped he was too preoccupied to notice. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep biting her tongue if she got ripped into for that too.

  He stepped closer to her, his mouth set in a tight line. Her daddy wasn’t a tall man—well under six feet—but his presence filled up a room. Whether it was with jovial banter or scathing looks, the effect was the same: it was damn near impossible to ignore Richard Haven when in his company.

  “What’s this I hear about you helpin’ get the paperwork all done up for those boys?” He sneered the word, as if he were talking about some rebellious teenagers and not nearly thirty-year-old men who were now business owners.

  And she had no idea how to answer that question. Of course she’d been helping them. It was her job to help with paperwork, answer any questions new business owners had, and guide them through regulations, Thomas boys or not. And if she hadn’t done her job, her daddy wouldn’t have had any problem at all holding it over her head. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t, just like always.

  She kept the smile on her face, though it felt brittle. “That’s my job, Daddy.”

  “Your job is to make sure the mayor looks good. That’s why I went against my instincts and hired you instead of Jeff, figuring you’d at least make sure the Haven name wasn’t dragged through the mud.” He huffed, smoothing a hand down his loosened tie, doing nothing to help the wrinkled shirt underneath. “You think having a bar in a prime location in the square shines a positive light on me and this town?”

  Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. Willow’d had Avery pull some numbers over the past week in preparation for having this exact conversation with her daddy, comparing Havenbrook’s information to the demographics of Parkersville, the next biggest town over. She’d hoped showing him the information in black and white would help calm him. But even if she’d had it ready and with her now, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d underestimated just how pissed off he’d be.

  There was no denying the truth, though: the bar was the breath of fresh air their dying town needed. Havenbrook was hemorrhaging residents, mostly of the younger generation, fewer and fewer of Willow’s classmates or surrounding years’ sticking around in a dead-end town with nothing keeping them there. And it was because they could get the same small-town feel with added benefits not far away. Why wouldn’t they go? She wanted to stop that if she could, and she had a feeling this was a good step in the right direction.

  This town was in her family’s blood, and she loved it with all of her being. She loved the people who cared without question—even if they did get into her business more than she’d like—and she loved that she knew the story of every historical landmark in the square, and she loved that she couldn’t go to the grocery store without running into at least one person who wanted to ask about her day. She didn’t want Havenbrook to be perfect like her daddy did; she wanted it to thrive.

  She wasn’t naïve enough to think a single bar could do that, but it could go a long way in making sure the residents stuck around instead of spending their time and money in another county. Now, when they wanted a drink after work, they’d head into the square to get it. The bar would make money, and the trio of owners would pay their taxes, thus bringing in more revenue for Havenbrook. It was a win-win for them, even if her daddy couldn’t see it just yet.

  But he was blind to things like that, too stuck in his ways to believe things were changing. If they didn’t change along with them, the town that was their namesake would continue to shrivel until it was just a forgotten dot on the map. She wasn’t going to let that happen, even if that meant standing up for the bar coming into town, standing up for Finn. Even if that meant pushing back with her daddy.

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “First of all, you hired me because I was better qualified for the job. Jeff is a janitor at the elementary school, and I’m sure he does a fantastic job there. But to have you say he would’ve handled this position better than me is insulting.”

  She wanted to say more, wanted to tell him she’d worked her ass off for him and this town for the past five years. And she’d done a damn good job of it. Would it hurt him to recognize that? But she had more pressing issues right then. “And I think having a thriving business bringing in both revenue and jobs—not to mention giving us an increase in taxes for things like new parks and better roads—is a good thing for the mayor, but more importantly for the town. No matter what the business is.”

  Her daddy jerked his head back, eyes wide. Probably because Willow could count on one hand the number of times she’d stood up to him, and most of them had been during her teenage years. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw going tight. “You know damn well I don’t like that kind of business. Or that boy.”

  Understatement of the century. He’d tried to keep them apart when they’d been teenagers, though he hadn’t quite managed. Even if he’d done everything in his power to keep them from seeing each other, she and Finn had worked at the same place, and her daddy hadn’t been able to stop that, no matter how powerful he was.

  “That may be the case,” she said, “but they’ve done everything above board. Went through the right paths, secured all the proper permits, even verified with the historical society about the items they’ll need to be careful on to follow regulation. They’re doing everything properly, Daddy.”

  She waited for him to argue more, but he only stared at her for a moment, his face getting redder, before he grunted.

  “Now that I’m here, I might as well get to work.”

  “Don’t you wanna go home and change?”

  “Apparently, I don’t have time since it looks like you didn’t do much of anything while I was gone. Spend all your time paintin’ your nails or what? Those damn toys from Tina’s day care were all over the side parking lot, not put away like they’re supposed to be. The tables at the cafe are blocking the sidewalks again. And for God’s sake, when the hell are those planters gonna get filled? I thought that was supposed to be completed this week? If you don’t get it done, I’ll get someone in here who will.” With that, he turned around and shuffled into his office, slamming the door behind him and dismissing her without so much as a word.

  Willow stood there for a solid three minutes, staring at the dark wood of the door her daddy had shut between them, her hands clenched at her sides. It was getting more and more painful to bite her tongue around him. But she’d been raised with the knowledge that their family was as close to royalty as Havenbrook was ever going to get, her great-great-great-granddad founding it in 1867. Because of that, all four girls had been raised knowing there was an invisible line they needed to toe. And they were, under no circumstances, allowed to back talk their daddy—in public or private.

  After twenty-eight years, it was ingrained deeply in Willow’s psyche. But every time he said something like that, belittling her and cutting her down to size, she got a little more pissed.

  And a little more determined to prove him wrong.

  With a fire burning under her skin, she turned and stalked toward her office, stopping short when she got into the hallway to find she wasn’t alone.

  “Finn,” she said, breathless. She glanced back toward her daddy’s office, then at Finn’s face—the tightness of his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders. There was no doubt in her mind he’d heard what her daddy had said—she just didn’t know how much. “What can I help you with?”
she asked, polite smile in place.

  What she desperately wanted to do was sweep her eyes down his body, take in the clothes he wore, decide if she liked them better or worse than what he’d been wearing last night. But she couldn’t focus on holding it together in the face of her father’s cutting-down if she got distracted by all of Finn’s…Finn-ness.

  “I see nothin’ much has changed with your daddy. Still as much of a dick as his name implies.” His response should’ve surprised her, but it didn’t. The hate between the two certainly wasn’t one-sided and had never been, and it apparently hadn’t waned with time.

  “Did you have a question about somethin’?” she asked, walking toward her office. The last thing she needed today was to have her daddy come flying out and get a look at Finn. That was an interaction she wanted to postpone as long as humanly possible.

  “Yeah.” He stepped close to her, closer than was appropriate for two business associates. Reaching out, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, let his finger drop to the side of her neck, resting against her pulse point. “I wanted to see if you got the delivery.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch, the dormant butterflies in her stomach once again swirling to life when she thought about what the gift meant. Was he trying to tell her he hadn’t forgotten about her, about back then? Or that he was disappointed she hadn’t fulfilled her promise to go to art school? But that was a can of worms she couldn’t afford to open right now. Instead, she said, “I did. Thank you.”

  “You still use that brand?”

  Given he went out of his way to get them for her, she didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so she just bit her lip and kept quiet.

  He smiled, though there was still tension in his body. “Always so polite, aren’t you? That hasn’t changed.” His jaw ticked as he glanced toward her daddy’s office. “Is that why you let him talk to you that way? You deserve better than that.”

  She shrugged. “You know that’s just how Daddy is.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Did you need anything else, Finn? If you heard him, I’m sure you know I’ve got a busy day, so I should get to it.” She pasted on a fake smile, hoping like hell he bought it—or at least pretended to for her sake.

  Finn looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply through his nose. He gave a quick shake of his head and dropped his hand from her neck. “Nothin’ that can’t wait.”

  “If you’re sure.” But Willow didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she ducked her head and stepped around him, straight into her office where she had twelve hours of work she somehow had to stuff into seven.

  Finn wasn’t sure he’d ever hated another human being as much as he hated Richard Haven. The man was everything Finn despised in a person—arrogant, pushy, narrow-minded, rude. And he’d been that way as long as Finn could remember. It’d been different then, though. Back when he’d been just a teenager, someone good ol’ Dick could use his powers to intimidate and persuade and push exactly where he wanted.

  It’d been a long time since anyone had been able to do that to Finn. Come to think of it, it’d been since the day he’d left Havenbrook behind. When Dick had made sure Finn had no choice but to leave, he’d sworn he’d never allow someone to do that to him again.

  He only wished Willow could say the same.

  It’d about killed him to hear her daddy talk to her like that. Finn had stood in the hallway, fists clenched, body nearly vibrating with the urge to do something. To step in and intervene. To tell Dick to fuck off once and for all. But if he knew Willow at all, he was certain she’d hate that.

  His original intention had simply been to stop by and see if she wanted to grab lunch. See if his little talk at the hardware store had had any effect on her at all. Because it sure as hell had on him. Truth was, since he’d put it all out there, hoping she’d see things his way, he couldn’t stop the runaway train known as his desires. He wanted her, with a single-minded focus. What he should’ve been spending his hours concentrating on was getting the bar up and running, not on the probability of getting another kiss from Willow.

  But knowing with complete certainty she felt this pull too, that there was a possibility she’d give him another chance? Well, he couldn’t think about anything else. And he’d be damned if he left again without giving this everything he had. Without giving them another shot. He couldn’t live with the what-ifs for the rest of his life if he didn’t.

  “You gonna stand by the window all night like a goddamn creeper, or what?” Drew asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, tossing his keys in the air before catching them.

  “She’s been out there all damn day.”

  “Just doin’ her job.”

  “I can almost guarantee planting fresh flowers isn’t in her job description.” Finn looked out the window again, finding Willow across the square at the cafe, attempting to shuffle the heavy wrought-iron furniture into some semblance of order. No doubt on her daddy’s command.

  “Yeah, well, her daddy’s an asshole,” Drew said. “Never did think a woman was good for much else than cookin’ and makin’ babies. He’s probably made Willow sorry every single day that she took that job.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Drew clapped Finn on the shoulder, then turned to leave. “Gonna meet Nola at Rudy’s. You wanna come?”

  Go and have a drink while Willow busted her ass for someone who wouldn’t even give her a grunt in thanks? Not if you paid him. “Nah. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right then.”

  The door shut behind Drew, but Finn didn’t take his focus from Willow. She still wore her favored business attire—a slim skirt and sleeveless top, the suit jacket she’d had on that morning tossed over one of the cafe chairs. Those siren red heels she still wore called his name. Her feet must’ve been killing her.

  All day, he’d watched her from inside the bar. Watched as she’d flitted around like a hummingbird, her legs carrying her as fast as they could go. First posting flyers around the square for the annual Fourth of July parade she’d no doubt she worked her ass off to make sure was amazing, then filling all three dozen planters with fresh flowers. As much as he’d wanted to go out there and help with her duties, he knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t want it—would, in fact, bite off his head for even offering.

  But now, long after he and the rest of the crew had closed shop for the day, she still worked. It was past eight in the evening, which meant she’d been working for nearly twelve hours. Not to mention, she was attempting to heft the heavy, wrought-iron cafe tables where they needed to go, in between wrangling the child-sized playhouses and toys strewn all about from the day care.

  Well, he’d had about enough of that.

  She’d probably give him a piece of her mind for helping, but he couldn’t stand around and watch her bust her ass for another hour when he was perfectly capable of assisting her so she could get it done in fifteen minutes.

  It was quiet on the square when he stepped outside. That was something he’d forgotten about, living in California for so long. At this time of night out there, many people were just starting their evenings. Getting ready to go to supper or out with friends. In Havenbrook? The entire town had been shut down for more than an hour already. If you wanted to go out after seven p.m., you did so in Parkersville. Of course, that’d all change once they opened their doors.

  Willow was completely oblivious to Finn as he strolled across the square. Actually, she was completely oblivious to most everything but the table currently giving her grief. She mumbled under her breath, agitation and frustration etched in every clenched inch of her body.

  Without a word, he went to the other side of the table and hefted his end off the ground. She stumbled a little now that the resistance wasn’t there and stared at him, mouth agape. Jesus, even after a day of manual labor, after running around for twelve hours with barely more than a water break, she was
still so gorgeous. Her hair was mussed, strands falling this way and that around her face. Her cheeks were flushed the same gorgeous shade of pink they’d been when he’d told her he’d thought of nothing but being inside her again.

  And now there he stood, lifting one side of an iron table high enough to hide his hard as steel cock.

  “Should I go ahead and move this myself?”

  Willow shook her head then stepped into action, lifting her side of the table. “I didn’t need your help, you know.”

  “I know.” And he did. She’d spent so much of her life proving herself to people it was ingrained now. The thing was, though, she didn’t have to prove anything to Finn. Never had. “Now, where are we movin’ these to?”

  She paused for only the slightest moment before lifting her chin to indicate an area behind Finn. “Daddy wants them out of the pathway, so they need to stay close to the building.”

  He had a hundred different things he wanted to say in regard to what her daddy wanted and exactly how few fucks Finn gave about what Dick desired, but that would only start up a shitstorm between him and Willow, and that wasn’t how he wanted to play this. Not tonight. Not with her.

  They worked quietly for a few minutes, but Finn had been starved for her for so long, the silence didn’t last. “You may not use the same brand of paints anymore, but I’m glad to see you are still painting.”

  Willow’s eyes shot to his, her brow furrowed. “How do you know I still am?”

  He titled his head to the side as they shuffled another table closer to the building. Wasn’t it obvious to every single person who walked through the square that Willow had painted the backdrops on them? He lifted his chin in the direction of one awash in color, a single tree in a green meadow, a rainbow sunset as the backdrop. “Wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen anything I’ve done. How were you so sure it was mine?”

  He smiled, just a slight curve of his lips. “You think I went even a day when I didn’t think about your touch? Trust me, I can identify every single thing you’ve laid a hand on.”