by A. K. Evans
Only in Dreams
Road Trip Romance Series: New Hampshire
A.K. Evans
Copyright © 2020 by A.K. Evans
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover Artist
Cover artwork © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
www.okaycreations.com
Editing & Proofreading
Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor
www.mybrotherseditor.net
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Epilogue
Preview of Break the Ice
Preview of Fragile
Also by A.K. Evans
About the Author
Author’s Note
In case this is your first Road Trip Romance read, I wanted to offer a bit of an explanation about the inspiration behind this series. Some readers have come into the series expecting the couple to be on a road trip, and that’s not the case.
If you’ve read my bio, you might have seen mention of how my husband and I are in the process of taking road trips across the United States with our two sons. Our goal is to visit all 50 states.
It was when we were getting ready to head out one of our trips when I was inspired to write this series. How cool would it be to take my readers on a road trip with me?!?! So, when you read the series title, Road Trip Romance, it’s all about you. I’m taking you on a road trip with me, and together, we’re going to find a happy ending in every state across the United States of America.
My plan is to wait to write a book set in a particular state after I’ve visited it with my family. In the end, I’m hoping to have delivered 50 unique love stories that capture some of the best things about each individual state.
I hope you’ll join me on this journey across the country in search of some happily-ever-after endings. And if you’re looking for a book about a couple on a road trip, I’m sorry, this isn’t that book.
Prologue
Calvin
Regret.
I wasn’t sure there was anything worse than the feeling of regret. Or, maybe there was. Maybe feeling conflicted was worse.
Far worse.
Right now, I felt both, and I couldn’t work out which of the two was consuming me more. All I knew for sure was that there was enough of each emotion to keep me focused on one thing I shouldn’t be focused on instead of my work.
It was Friday night, at a bar, and it was busy. There was plenty of work to keep me distracted, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t pay attention to drink orders and stock levels when the reality of my stupidity was smacking me in the face.
As much as I wanted work to be my distraction, it never would be the case. It never was when she was here.
I’d gotten used to it, though.
After nearly eight months of having to endure it, I’ve only just started to get used to the pit in my stomach that turns into a burn in my lungs and ends as an ache in my chest every time I see her like this. It was my punishment.
I deserved this.
Because I was in love with a woman who was in love with someone else. She was in love with a man who, for at least the present moment, was making her laugh and putting a smile on her face.
God, she seemed so genuinely happy. I wondered if she ever looked or even felt that happy when I had more of her than I do now. Back before he came along. Back when I had hope.
This was where the conflict always came in for me. I wanted nothing more than to see her happy. She deserved to be happy all the time. So, I loved what I was seeing. I loved that for her, especially when I had seen the very opposite on more than one occasion.
But I hated it.
Partly because I didn’t like him and mostly because I didn’t want her with him.
She was happy without me. What was there to like about that?
And every time that cold, hard truth settled in, I went back to feeling nothing but regret. It was a vicious circle, effectively eating me up on the inside.
It should have been me. She should have been with me. I should have been the one who was laughing with her. I should have been the one who was tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. I should have been the one touching her. Kissing her. Loving her.
It should have been me.
But it wasn’t.
Because I was a fool. I let the only woman I’ve ever been in love with get away.
I’d never forgive myself.
She was mine. And yet, she wasn’t.
Yeah, I’d made up my mind. Feeling regretful was far worse than feeling conflicted because the regret made me realize that I once had an opportunity to make her mine, and I didn’t take advantage.
The disappointment I felt, understanding I might not ever get that chance again, was unsettling.
So, I did the only thing I could when the pain of seeing her like this became too much.
I stole one last glance at the woman of my dreams before I walked out of my own bar for the rest of the night.
One
Samantha
Two Years Earlier
Fifteen more minutes.
Just fifteen more minutes until I was done for the day and could finally walk out of here.
What a day it had been. Frustrating wasn’t even the right word to fully describe what I’d gone through today.
Treacherous was more like it. Because in my line of work, it was safe to say there were times that I found it to be a bit hazardous.
One word: Bridezillas.
In truth, it wasn’t just crazy brides, but they certainly made up the bulk of my headaches. I worked as the event sales director at the banquet and convention center of a hotel in my hometown of Finch, New Hampshire. What this meant from a technical standpoint was that I was supposed to spend most of my days promoting and selling events. But since Finch was a small town, I didn’t really have a lot of advertising to do.
We were the best option in town. If someone had an event they needed to host, we were the top choice. Weddings, corporate parties, and baby showers. We did it all.
And surprisingly, there was no shortage of it.
Given that it was now the beginning of June and the height of our season, it was busier than ever. The upcoming weekends were filled with weddings and graduation parties. Not only that, but two different companies recently started hosting business lunches during the week. Apparently, getting the staff out of the mundane routine of the office was good for productivity.
Even better, this was all great news for my production numbers.
But it was hell for my sanity.
Especially after a day like today.
It was Thursday, and one of the companies that had been having catered business lunches had one here today. For the most part, that had gone
well. They’d been using one of our parlor rooms—rooms that were substantially smaller than our grand ballroom and perfect for more intimate gatherings—for nearly six weeks now, so I’d gotten used to how they ran their events, and they understood how we did things here.
But it seemed like no sooner did their luncheon end when things started going downhill for me. I’d spent the last two and a half hours dealing with emails and phone calls. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem. I was accustomed to having a heavy load, especially at this time of year. And I expected to have to put out a fire or two on occasion.
Today was not that.
Today had left me with only a handful of standard, run-of-the-mill items to attend to, while nearly everything else was the exact opposite. I knew it was par for the course in this line of work, but sometimes, it got to me and was a lot to deal with when multiple clients felt like being challenging at the same time.
And now that I’d just ended a difficult phone conversation with a woman who was getting married next weekend and panicking about every last detail for her wedding, details that had already been sorted, I was ready to go home.
I wouldn’t be coming in until later in the day tomorrow since I’d be staying later in the evening to cover a party. I didn’t always remain through to the end of the evening for every single event, which was a testament to the excellent staff we’d hired, but I also couldn’t leave all the late nights to those who worked under me.
That was another part of my job and what I typically spent most of my time doing. While getting out to promote wasn’t something I had to do a lot of, especially with all the word of mouth from previous clients, I did have to manage the logistics of every event. This meant I had to be in direct communication with the client and that I had to make sure I arranged for the appropriate amount of staff for each event. Some required only one or two people to check in and make sure everything was running smoothly, while others required significantly more, such as wait staff and bartenders.
Since there were no events this evening, and I’d been here since early this morning, I was ready to go home. And I had no plans to think about work, weddings, or parties until I returned tomorrow afternoon.
As I sat at my desk, watching the minutes tick by on the clock, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
Glancing up, my eyes landed on Demi. She was the hotel manager, and putting it mildly, Demi was also my closest friend. We’d been working together for the last four years, and in that time, she’d become someone I could trust and rely on, just the same as she could do with me.
“Hey, Demi. How’s it going?” I greeted her.
Demi sat down in the chair on the opposite side of my desk and sighed, “This has been a day.”
I let out a laugh. “Tell me about it,” I replied sarcastically.
“I don’t envy you, Sam,” she started. “That woman you’ve been dealing with that’s getting married next week is like no other bride I’ve ever seen before.”
“I just can’t fathom why people think that yelling at someone who is there to try to make their big day everything they want it to be is the wisest decision,” I returned. “I mean, doesn’t she understand that I have the power to ruin her entire wedding?”
Demi scoffed, “You’d never do that. But I’d love to see it one of these days.”
“Of course, I would never do that,” I assured her. “But I’ll never understand why they need to be mean. If I didn’t care about keeping this job, it wouldn’t take much to destroy their whole day.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, my friend readily agreed, “Exactly. I’ve never understood that whole bridezilla concept.”
“Well, let this stand as my solemn vow,” I declared. “If I ever get so lucky to find someone, fall in love, and get engaged, I’m going to either keep it small or elope. This nonsense of needing every little detail perfect or the day being ruined is for the birds. I won’t do that to myself or anyone who’d have to work with me. Maybe that’s the perk of working in the service industry. You start to understand not only how easy but also how critical it is to be kind.”
“I don’t understand the men,” Demi huffed.
My brows pulled together. I hadn’t really had any issues with any of the men who were getting married. For the most part, they stood by and let their bride handle everything. In fact, it was rare for me to ever interact with the groom.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“I don’t understand how any of these men can marry these women who go that crazy over the color of the table linens or whatever other ludicrous scenario they can come up with in their heads as being a detrimental problem,” she explained.
I shrugged. “Maybe the women are completely different around them,” I suggested. “I don’t know. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re now three minutes away from being able to get out of here. I can’t wait to get home.”
“That’s kind of the reason why I came in here to begin with,” Demi began. “I wanted to see what you were up to tonight because I wanted you to come out with me.”
“What?”
“Well, I know you aren’t coming in until later tomorrow, and I thought it’d be nice for us to go out for a quick drink on our way home after the day we’ve had today,” she answered.
“Oh, Demi, I don’t know if I’m up for it. I was just going to go home and work on a few new designs,” I told her.
Shooting me a look of disbelief, Demi said, “Sam, you can’t go home to work even more after what you dealt with today. If you’re going to do that, at least give yourself a little break and some fun before you throw yourself into more work.”
That was the thing.
What I planned to do when I got home didn’t feel like work to me.
I had a side hustle. My side hustle was something I hoped to turn into a full-time gig because being an event sales director was not my dream. Being an event sales director put food on the table and allowed me to pay my bills.
My passion was my shirts.
The T-shirt business was a big one—a multi-billion-dollar industry—and the idea that I could create shirts that would allow people to say the things they wanted to say without having to open their mouths was enticing.
Not only that, but I found it to be incredibly relaxing. I enjoyed coming up with new ideas. Some of the shirts I made had simple designs or images, whereas others had motivational messages or witty sayings. No matter what it was, I loved what I was doing. And most of all, I wanted to make a full-time career out of it.
So, I was fully intent on getting my slice of the multi-billion-dollar pie.
But the industry was huge, and I was a small fish in the sea. So, while I managed to sell a couple T-shirts every week, it wasn’t quite enough just yet to allow me to quit the day job. Until that time came, I’d have to continue to come in and take whatever was thrown at me each day.
And if I didn’t want to have to do that anymore, I needed to make my dream come true. Going out for a drink after a day like today wasn’t going to help me get there.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I said.
“What?” Demi replied, confusion written all over her face.
I waved my hand absentmindedly through the air. “This,” I replied. “I can’t continue to do this every day. I like making money, but I don’t like this work.”
“You think I do?” she countered. “I don’t understand what that has to do with you stopping for a drink on the way home just to unwind after a day like today.”
I took in a deep breath and blew it out before I answered, “Because every hour I don’t spend working on my shirts equals an hour or more that I’m stuck working in this job.”
Demi nodded her understanding. Then, glancing down at her watch and noting the time, she stood and declared, “It’s time to get out of here.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told her.
“Okay. Have a good night, Sam,” she said.
“You too
, Demi. Have a drink for me,” I urged as I stood and started gathering my things.
At my words, Demi stopped just inside the door to my office and turned back to look at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You know,” she started, and I could already tell she was up to something. I braced for it. “You mentioned what kind of wedding you’d have if you ever met someone and fell in love. I’m not sure how that’s ever going to happen for you if all you do is work.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “That’s cute coming from the cynic,” I murmured.
Demi moved back toward me. “Listen, I’ve seen enough in my life to know that the search for the happy ending isn’t for me. That doesn’t mean I won’t have any fun in this life. And it definitely doesn’t mean I don’t want it for my best friend if that’s what she wants.”
Working as a hotel manager had only solidified the already pessimistic view Demi had on love. Her parents were divorced, which had already marked her in a profound way. But then working at the hotel and checking people in had given her the opportunity to see a lot of unsavory things.
“And you think the place to find the man of my dreams is at a bar?” I countered.
Demi shook her head. “No. But there’s nothing wrong with having some fun and letting loose. You’ve got to start getting yourself out there if you’re going to have any luck with that. I mean, you’ve got to put a little bit of effort into your search. Besides, tonight isn’t necessarily about finding the guy.”
