So Wrong It Must Be Right

by Nicole Helm

  His dark eyes studied her and she didn’t know what he was looking for. She found she didn’t know how to act around him this morning, what with the coffee and the possible ideas for him and Gallagher’s rolling around in her head. With reality a possibility.

  “Um. Yes. Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” she managed, turning from him and focusing on pouring herself some coffee. She had to find D, and all that effortless flirtatious charm that came out when she was around C.

  Who’d bought and made her coffee. Of his own volition. Yeah, she’d need at least this full cup to find some sense of calm over that.

  She stood with her back to him, staring at the inky brown liquid. It looked to be a little weaker than she preferred, but how could she care? He’d made her coffee. No one made her coffee.

  Seriously, you’d think he’d showered you with millions. Calm it down.

  “So, what farm business have you been up to this morning?”

  She could hear him moving around the kitchen behind her, but she wasn’t quite steady enough to watch him yet.

  “Spraying down the pumpkins with some mold killer. Harvested a butt-load of zucchini. Some broccoli and beans. Market day tonight over in Maplewood.”

  She took a breath and turned to face him. He was pulling slices of bread out of a bag. “Toast?” he asked, holding up a piece of bread. “I’ve got some jelly my neighbor made out of my blackberries.”

  “You’re quite the pioneer, aren’t you?”

  He smiled, and it didn’t have that sexy, predatory edge his smiles normally did. It was just a sleepy, morning smile and her heart pinched. She probably needed to get the hell out of here.

  “As I opt for indoor plumbing and electricity, pioneer doesn’t seem quite apt.” Since she’d nodded her assent on the toast situation, he placed the bread into the toaster and pushed the handle down.

  She sipped her coffee and considered the rumpled farmer before her. Farmer, of all damn things. “I might stop by the market tonight.”

  Something in his body froze, almost. Certainly stiffened or stilled. He was silent for too many seconds and Dinah couldn’t help but wonder if she’d said something wrong. Maybe he didn’t want so much of her time.

  You shouldn’t want so much of his.

  Finally his eyes met hers, eyebrows furrowed, mouth grim and serious. “As D or Dinah Gallagher?”

  Dinah shifted on her feet. Fair question, but that didn’t mean she particularly liked it. Because she didn’t know. Dinah Gallagher should visit other farmers’ markets. It might even help crystallize her idea on how to keep Carter’s farm in one piece.

  Which was a D thing, most certainly.

  “Look, things are getting a little . . . blurry,” Carter said, the gentleness in his tone doing nothing to assuage the roiling conflict inside her gut.

  “We need to keep these lines clear,” he continued, staring at the toaster instead of her. “You know that as well as I do.”

  Unless . . . But she didn’t want to offer him that unless. Not until it was a certainty, and maybe not even until she was sure she wanted an unless.

  He bought and made you coffee. Yes, but he was still part enemy, part stranger. Part friend, part . . . more. Bottom line, she wasn’t sure of much of anything Carter related, and that made her uncomfortable. Surety had always been her strong suit.

  So, she forced herself to find some surety, or at least fake it really, really hard. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  She could tell he didn’t like the answer, but he didn’t say anything else. She kept drinking her coffee, he made toast, and they ate breakfast together as though it was normal.

  It wasn’t normal in the least little bit, but it was nice. It was comfortable, even with the whole D-versus-Dinah and C-versus-Carter issues.

  She decided then and there she would have a real answer for him by the end of this week. That was her deadline, and she always met her deadlines.

  * * *

  Carter was used to working farmers’ markets without anyone he actually knew ever coming up to visit him. Which was probably at least partly why he’d been weird when Dinah had suggested she might stop by.

  Of course, it was far more complicated than that, but what the hell wasn’t these days?

  When Jordan showed up at his booth though, Carter could only look at his friend with confusion. “Hey, man. What are you doing here?”

  Jordan smiled amiably. “Just thought I’d drop by.”

  “You never come to the farmers’ market. I’ve seen you shudder and then rail for thirty minutes about hipster nonsense at the mere mention of one.”

  “Well, they are hipster nonsense,” Jordan replied, and his friendly smile was quickly dying. “But Grandma mentioned you had a woman over this morning.”

  Carter blinked at his friend, surprised, confused, and then a little bit more confused at the odd note of accusation in Jordan’s tone. “I didn’t realize my sex life had anything to do with you.”

  “I didn’t realize your sex life had anything to do with Dinah Gallagher.”

  Carter didn’t have anything to say to that; probably couldn’t have managed a word, the way his breath seemed to leave him.

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I suggested fighting dirty.”

  Carter bit back the nasty things he wanted to say. Things that would probably prove a few points he didn’t want proved. “It’s not fighting dirty. I don’t know what your grandma told you, but it’s none of your business.”

  “Because you’re going to sell, aren’t you? Because of a pair of tits.”

  Carter ground his teeth together to keep from reaching across his table and possibly punching his friend. Which was a strange reaction. He’d never been a particularly jealous guy, and he’d definitely never been a violent guy. But anyone talking about Dinah that way . . . Damn it, he was screwed up. But that didn’t mean Jordan had any right to talk about this.

  “What are you doing here? I told you I’m not going to sell, and I’m not going to. I don’t need to fight dirty to do it, and my sex life is completely and utterly separate from anything to do with selling.”

  “No, it’s not. Certainly not if you’re fucking Dinah Gallagher.”

  “Listen . . .” Except Carter didn’t know what to say. The guy was worried that if he sold his farm, it would hurt Jordan’s grandmother, and Carter got that. In Jordan’s situation, he’d be worried too, but he couldn’t imagine going to the guy’s place of business and interrogating him about his romantic entanglements. Fuck, had he really just thought the term romantic entanglements?

  “You want to buy something or you want to interrogate me? Because this is my place of business, so an interrogation will have to wait.”

  “I was pretty surprised to hear it, Carter. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends, and this has nothing to do with my business, or your grandmother’s house, or being friends. Who I sleep with has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with my land, and it has nothing to do with your grandmother.”

  “My grandmother is just trying to keep her house.”

  “So am I!”

  Jordan shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “This is un-fucking-believable, you know that, right?”

  He opened his mouth to tell Jordan to leave, except he realized that Jordan wasn’t looking at him. Possibly not even talking to him. He was looking across the way, and when Carter followed his gaze, it landed right on Dinah Gallagher.

  Fuck.

  “You can go now,” Carter ground out.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I have a little something to say to Dinah Gallagher.”

  “Don’t. If you’re really my friend, I don’t need your help on this.”

  “I thought we were friends, and now I think you’re really just screwing over us all.”

  “My land isn’t going anywhere and neither is your grandmother’s.” The anger bubbling inside of Carter wasn’t
proportionate to the situation, but this wasn’t exactly new either. When people befriended you because of a cause, the friendship rarely lasted. Because at some point, that cause was going to drive you apart.

  “I’ve been used enough in my life to know what that feels like, so if this is about friendship, I’d tone down the neighborhood and land talk. And if you have anything to say, I suggest you say it to me before she gets over here.”

  “Because of course she’s coming over here.”

  Carter squared off with Jordan, feeling both angry and irritated, and a little guilty. He didn’t know how to handle those conflicting feelings. Because he’d always pursued his causes to the end of the earth, and he’d never had to stop and wonder if he’d faltered.

  But Jordan was making him question his cause, his life, his guilt.

  Dinah approached his booth in her Gallagher’s business best. A floral skirt that skimmed her hips and went to her knees, high heels that showed off her slender calves and the red color she’d painted her toes, all with a matching silky blouse, and brightly painted lips.

  No matter that things were weird and complicated and that Jordan was standing there staring daggers at both of them, Carter just wanted to sink into that gorgeous mouth and think about nothing else.

  But everything else was right here. All around him.

  “Good evening, Dinah.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Trask. I don’t want to interrupt. Feel free to finish with your customer before you talk to me.”

  “Dinah, you remember Jordan.”

  “Oh, right! The charter school teacher.” She smiled brightly at Jordan. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “I’m also a Washington,” Jordan said, his tone flat.

  Dinah’s eyebrows drew together and she looked at him questioningly. “A Washington?”

  “Mila Washington is my grandmother. Your father tried to, you know, con her out of her house so you guys can expand.”

  “You mean my uncle,” Dinah returned, her business smile still in place, though it tightened.

  “That make it better for me?” Jordan said.

  Dinah’s smile didn’t waver, but it did change. “I’m sorry if my uncle wasn’t as kind as he should have been, but I assure you, Gallagher’s has nothing but the best interests of the neighborhood at heart. And it seems as though you’ve retained your land. No harm, no foul.”

  “Barely, and only because I stepped in when she told me Gallagher’s was intimidating her. You guys like intimidating elderly women? Well, we’re not going to let you do it. We’re not going to let you ruin this neighborhood and turn it into some white-bread, suburban bullshit. This neighborhood is real, and we’re not going to let you guys come in here and suck the life out of it.”

  “Mr. Washington, Gallagher’s has been here for over a century. We’re just as much a part of this neighborhood as anyone. All we want to do is bring in more revenue and more—”

  “Fuck your revenue,” Jordan spat.

  Carter couldn’t take it any longer. No matter that Dinah could handle it; he couldn’t sit here and let . . . Well, he just couldn’t. “Jordan, come on. You don’t have to be an ass.”

  “Nice side of the street you’re walking on these days. See you later, man.” Then Jordan strode away.

  “I’m sorry,” Dinah said, frowning after Jordan’s retreating form. “Did I cause a problem with you and your friend?”

  “No. I caused that problem.”

  Dinah was quiet a few seconds. “When you hooked up with me, you mean.”

  He couldn’t read her tone, and he found he didn’t want to. He rubbed his fingers on his temples to alleviate the headache that was now pounding there. “Why are you here, Dinah? I assume it is Dinah business, right?”

  “Yes. Dinah Gallagher, who would very much appreciate if Carter Trask would meet me at a neutral location for a business meeting after your market.”

  “Dinah.” He shook his head. “I’m not selling. What could there possibly be to talk about?”

  “It’s not about selling. It’s about a new, alternate option.”

  “There are no new alternate options. There is only I keep my land, and Gallagher’s does not get it. Nothing can change that.”

  “What if this business proposition includes a stipulation that you keep your land?”

  Carter’s head pounded harder at that nonsensical statement. “You said you have to get my land in order to make your mark or whatever, so I don’t see how—”

  “Please.” She reached across his table, giving his arm a squeeze. “Just meet me. You can pick the location, and the time, and we will sit down and have a business meeting. And, if you say no, I will take no for an answer and never bring it up again.”

  “You’ll never bring it up again?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Not this idea. I’ll still try to buy your land if you refuse this deal, but I’ll leave this business proposition completely off the table if you say no.” She thrust out her hand. “Deal?”

  The last thing he wanted tonight was a business dinner with Dinah. He was feeling confused and guilty and pissed off, and her in her business demeanor only served to piss him off further. But the quicker he agreed, the quicker he could tell her no and move on.

  He took her hand and shook. “I’ll meet you at Capilierries at eight, okay?”

  “Capilierries at eight. I’ll be there.” She shook his hand and smiled, and he didn’t have the energy for the tightness in his chest or the want in his gut. He didn’t have the energy for the complication of Dinah Gallagher.

  But he had the complication, and he couldn’t seem to work up the decision to give it the old heave-ho.

  She glanced down at his table of produce and selected a watermelon. “And I want to buy this.”

  “Five bucks.”

  She only grinned at him. “A steal.” She handed him a five-dollar bill before sauntering off the way she’d come.

  This was nothing but trouble and it would only serve to irritate him, so why he was smiling as he watched her sashay away he would never understand.

  Chapter 11

  Dinah sat at a tiny table in a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant she’d never eaten in before, and waited for Carter to show. She was nervous, for a lot of reasons. Considering it was now ten after eight, she was a little worried he wasn’t going to show up.

  Would that be the end of it? He’d just stand her up and . . . then what?

  She shook her head, sipping the glass of water in front of her and trying to remember she was Dinah Gallagher, future director of operations of Gallagher’s Tap Room. She was not some lovelorn email correspondent who’d be devastated if all this didn’t work out.

  When Carter finally pushed through the restaurant door, she let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t eradicate the nerves, since she had a whole slew of them, but at least he was here.

  He was here and she could lay out her plan and . . . he would say yes. He would have to say yes, wouldn’t he? What would be the benefit to saying no? Even if he wanted nothing to do with a real relationship between Dinah and Carter, this was still in his best interest.

  Is it in mine?

  That scary question kept popping up in her head, and she kept pushing it away. Of course it was. This idea was genius. Kayla hadn’t gotten excited about it, but Kayla was having her own weird thing.

  Carter slid into the seat across from her, an almost-smile on his face. Yeah, he was not helping her nerves at all.

  “So, do we have to do the dinner thing or can we just get this over with?”

  Yeah, definitely not helping with the nerves. “If that’s what you want, we can do it that way. I’ll cut straight to the chase.” And hopefully not lose her lunch in the process.

  Before she could get any more words out, the waiter appeared. Carter smiled at him, though it was still that tight, lackluster curve. Even when he turned it on her. “You know, why don’t we order some dessert? They have really great cannoli here, if yo
u like it.”

  “Okay. Yeah, that’d be great. Maybe a bottle of wine too. Whatever dry red you’ve got on hand.”

  Carter shifted uncomfortably as the waiter left, but she could see there was a certain struggle going on with him. He was here, and he didn’t want to be here, but at the same time he’d showed up and ordered the cannoli. He’d agreed to meet her. So whatever was happening, he was just as conflicted as she was.

  Which was a helpful reminder. One that allowed her to calm down a little bit.

  “Right. So cut to the chase on this whole business thing?”

  Dinah gave a sharp nod. “The fact of the matter is, neither Kayla nor I were particularly one hundred percent behind Craig’s idea to buy out the three lots behind Gallagher’s and turn them into a parking lot and a farmers’ market. But we were both very into the idea of hosting our own farmers’ market, especially in this neighborhood and with our locally brewed beer available.” She could tell he was losing interest word by word, second by second.

  She tried not to panic, because she never panicked when it came to business. She was always smooth and in charge. She couldn’t lose it now just because a guy she . . . cared about, somewhat, was involved.

  What kind of businesswoman would she be then? “I ran my idea by Kayla and our head chef at Gallagher’s, and I think I have a way to involve you in our plans without buying your land.”

  “I’m not trying to be a dick here, but I don’t need to be involved with Gallagher’s. I’m not selling, period, so I don’t need a compromise. I do just fine on my own.”

  “You could do better. It would bring us both added revenue. Because I think a lot of people are very into the local food movement right now, and if you became a food supplier, we could develop a small, but completely local menu. It would be a serious draw and solve both our problems.”

  “But I don’t have a problem. I was never going to sell to you.”

  Dinah swallowed down her frustrated comments and snarky retorts. Sure, he hadn’t planned to sell to her, and she knew how much the land meant to him. So, yes, it probably would’ve been quite the climb to get him to sell, but she wasn’t ready to concede the point that he might have sold to her if she’d found the right leverage.