Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(20)

“You’re leaving,” I pointed out.

“Not right away. And it won’t take long, I promise.” She smiled with satisfaction. “Then once the renovation is complete, you throw an event.”

“An event?”

“Yes.” She ate another chip, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Some kind of celebration. Like a reopening. Do you have an anniversary coming up, perhaps?”

I tried to focus on the discussion at hand instead of the way she kept licking her lips and fingers. I liked her appetite. “Sixty-five years in business? Something like that?”

Her face lit up. “That’s perfect! It’ll be a great reminder of how long you’ve served this town, how small businesses like yours are really the fabric of the community. We’ll create a feeling—a sense of happy nostalgia, remind them why they still live in a place like Bellamy Creek. Swifty Auto does not represent their values—you do. You’ve always been here for them. You’re part of their history. You’re home. You’re family. That’s the message we send.”

I studied her across the table. “You’re good at this idea stuff.”

Another smile, this one shyer, sweeter. “Thanks.”

“And then what? How does it help?”

“It helps because you’re going to get people back. Or maybe get new business. Income will go up. And then you can apply again for the loan.”

I wasn’t positive she was right, but if the cost wasn’t too much, I supposed it was worth a try. “So you’ll help me with the lobby? And the event?”

“Of course.” She sat up taller in her chair. “I happen to have excellent taste, and I’m newly familiar with . . . a budget, I think you call it?”

I grinned. “Yeah. That’s what we call it.”

“And the food—let me take care of catering this event. I’ll give them a taste of something that’ll put those Swifty Auto cookies to shame.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, thinking I’d like a taste of the baker herself.

“Any ideas when this could happen?” She picked up her tea. “Ideally, it would be great to have it coincide with a time when the town is busy—say a street festival or something?”

I thought about it as I polished off the rest of my sandwich. “Maybe Labor Day weekend? There’s always a lot going on—it’s sort of the last really busy weekend of tourist season. There’s a parade, the baseball championships, sidewalk sales, a street fair.”

“That’s perfect!” She began shoving our trash back into the paper bag. “Although it doesn’t give us much time—not even a month. We need to get to work right away.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

She stood up and pushed her chair in. “Okay, let me think some more this afternoon. I’ll write up a list. And as long as I can find somewhere to stay until then and keep the job at the desk, I’ll stick around until then.”

“Really?”

“Sure. It’s not like anyone is expecting me someplace else. And I think it’ll be good for me, seeing how you run your business. I already know how to bake—what I need to learn is all the other stuff.”

“There’s a whole lot of other stuff to running a business,” I said. “Way more than I can show you in three weeks.”

She sighed. “I’m beginning to realize how impulsive this whole leap-of-faith move was. I’m not sorry I did it, but I really should have planned better. I just . . . got impatient. I didn’t want to wait any longer for my real life to start.”

“That’s understandable,” I said. I’d felt the same way once.

“But it’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

I shook my head. “It never is.”

“Well . . . I guess I’ll get back up to the desk. Thanks for lunch.”

I watched her drop the paper bag in the trash and head for the door. “Hey, Blair?”

She looked back at me. “Yes?”

“You did the right thing. Leaving your old life behind.”

Her smile made my heart beat quicker.

A month, I thought with sudden alarm. An entire month during which she’d be right here, and it would not be okay to put my hands on her.

I wasn’t sure I’d make it.





I worked a little later than usual, long after Handme left to pick up his girlfriend and McIntyre had gone home to his dog and whatever tonight’s fight with Emily would be. Earlier I’d heard him grumbling about a couples shower, which he’d apparently agreed to one night but did not turn out to be the sexy private occasion he’d imagined.

“Guys do not belong at wedding showers,” he griped into his cell. “Even my mother agrees with me.”

My guess was that Emily had gone off on him for that comment, because he’d had to hold the phone away from his ear for a solid thirty seconds. After they hung up, he looked over at me. “Just shut up,” he said, frowning.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.”

I’d shaken my head and gone back to work putting a new tire on Blair’s MG. Luckily, the tires were not original stock so that was an easier fix than the other issues would be. But she seemed okay with the idea of sticking around while waiting for parts. And God knew I could use her help around here.