Hearing the steel creeping into her voice, he realized she must already know what he wasn’t telling her. It wasn’t about hiding the truth, just softening the blow. And maintaining discretion for his client.
“Oh, sure,” he said, going for casual coincidence. He didn’t want to annoy her or give her a reason to doubt him. “Levi is a major sponsor this year. Totally invested in the community. He brought me in to help fine-tune a comprehensive marketing strategy. We’re presenting a slate of new ideas to the committee president and treasurer this afternoon.”
The smile fell right off her face and her eyebrows snapped into a sharp frown. “But the kick-off meeting for this year’s festival is tomorrow.”
“The hope is to show a comprehensive strategy at tomorrow’s meeting and get everyone onboard with the fresh ideas for significant growth.”
“I see.” Her voice turned chilly. They’d reached the shop and she pulled the key out of her purse. “Well, that’s going to make things interesting.”
It was as if she’d dropped a wall between them. Wary, he asked, “How so?”
“Because.” Her eyes flashed with cold fire. “The Beach Belle has a legacy committee seat, as long as the business remains in the family. This year, I’m not only on the festival committee, I’m the chair for local outreach and small-business partnership.” She paused, a challenge in her gaze. “So, Calvin Lynwood, your firm’scomprehensive strategyis likely going to clash spectacularly with my local, independent vision for the number one annual event in Brookwell.”
Her declaration landed like a punch. He should’ve known that, but her being the chairperson hadn’t shown up in his research. Now it was him against her—at least in her mind. The last thing he wanted was to be at odds with competing ideas and dueling expertise.
If she kept glaring at him like an enemy, she’d never let him help her. She wasn’t just the one that got away. Now, she was the one who stood directly in his professional path.
“I disagree.” He heard the professional edge creeping into his voice. “We don’t have to clash at all.” Her auburn eyebrows shot upward.Challenge accepted. “My plan—Levi’s plan—is focused on expanding the festival’s regional reach, maximizing ticket pre-sales, and bringing in a younger, more affluent demographic.”
“Mm-hm. And mine,” Grace countered, leaning in with a fierceness that tempted him more than it warned him off, “is focused on supporting the community, ensuring the local vendors are prioritized, and preserving the small-town charm thatattractspeople here to the island in the first place.”
The air crackled between them. It wasn’t the sweet tension of a long-overdue reconnection with the possibility of a romance. No, this was the intoxicating high-stakes conflict of competition. He saw the challenge in her eyes, and suddenly, winning the argument, and maybe winningherback, became the only two things that mattered.
Something loosened in his chest, and it felt as if he could breathe deeply for the first time in years. He smiled. “Game on, Teague.”
She met his gaze, her own lips curving into a smile that was equal parts defiance and delight. “You better believe it, Lynwood.”
Then she turned her back and walked into her shop, flipping the sign to open.
He nearly followed her in, catching himself at the last second. Better to let her temper fade before he tried to suggest anything. He only had a few hours until his meeting with Levi, and after that, about twenty-four hours before he’d be facing off with Grace again, this time in public.
If he didn’t have the right answers or counterpoints to satisfy her concerns by then, he’d be fighting an unwinnable battle for sure.
CHAPTER 6
Just ahead of one o’clock, the front door chimed as another customer entered the Beach Belle. Grace barely heard it over the rhythmic thrum-hiss of her industrial steamer. She was currently locked in a battle with a stubborn bolt of vintage-inspired lace, as if trying to smooth out the wrinkles of a past she wasn’t ready to revisit. “I’ll be right with you,” she called out.
Thankfully, the morning had been busy, preventing Grace from dwelling on the rather ugly end to her earlier conversation with Cal. But as the day moved on, she found herself wondering if the committee president and treasurer were enamored with his ideas.
“If you steam that any harder, Grace, you’re going to vanish in a cloud of vapor like a Victorian ghost,” a friendly voice called out from the other side of the counter.
“Hey, Holly.” Grace straightened, wiping a stray curl from her damp forehead before she set aside the steamer. “How did the interview go with Connie?”
“Excellent as always. She always makes me laugh, whether her stories are old or new.” Holly tipped her head toward the fabric. “What’s with the lace?”
Grace glanced over her shoulder. Lace wasn’t typically on offer. “I’m brainstorming a few things for Willow’s wedding,” she said.
Holly inched closer. “It’s beautiful. Is it antique?”
“No.” Grace shook her head. “Just modeled after a vintage design. But it’s been on a shelf somewhere long enough to develop an attitude.” She waved off the troublesome fabric. “So how can I help with your interview?”
Holly had a camera slung around her neck and a digital recorder already peeking out of her pocket.
“I have a sixth sense for interrupting at the right time,” Holly said with a sympathetic smile. “For this article, I want to talk about the legacy seat and your thoughts on the traditions around our annual music festival. Off the record, I’m checking on you.”
“Because?”
“We check the police activity, Grace. I know Lt. Frasier was here last night.”
