My brow furrows at that. “We have to be even bigger assholes?”
“No.” She shakes her head, hair flying against her cheeks. “We have to make this boutique such a stunning success that he looks like the absolute asshole he is for suggesting it will fail. We’ll pull on the heartstrings of every Heaven local, remind them of your mother’s dream, and give them the clothes they’re dying to wear all while making them pull out their wallets again and again.”
I was obsessed with her before, but hearing her champion the boutique, defiantly defending me against my father…well, it makes my ribs ache. I look across the flickering candlelight and see a gorgeous lioness, protecting what’s hers. She’s been hurt in the past, but she still loves fiercely.
And I think I may just love her back.
Which is why I need to change course. I don’t want her fighting my battles. I’ll fight my own battles and take on hers too. She deserves that after how she’s been treated. I lean across the table and take her hand in mine.
“I don’t want you to worry about my father. He’s my cross to bear.”
Betsy snorts. “I hate that phrase. So Southern and stuffy and sanctimonious. How about you share the load with the people who care about you?”
My heartbeat stops on a dime. I’m scared to say it out loud, but I have to. “Share it withyou?” I ask quietly, needing her to admit her feelings.
Her blue eyes scan mine for a long moment. I fully expect her to retreat behind the steel-enforced wall she’s built around her heart, but she proves that I can still be surprised.
“Yeah. With me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Betsy
You knowhow eating vegetables tastes terrible, but you know you should do it, and after you do it, you feel really good? That’s how I feel about this Silas…thing. I’ve been dragging my feet, not wanting to lean into all the sweetness he shows me, but then when I do, the payoff feels really fucking good. Feels right. Feels like it’s what’s good for me.
So basically, my body and mind are at war with each other, both wanting what’s best for me, but unsure what that best thing is. With each passing day, I lean heavier on the side of Silas being my vegetables.
I roll my eyes at my own ridiculous metaphor and slam my car door shut. Oof. Not even the sleeveless top and short skirt I put on this morning will save me from this unrelenting humidity. Mr Barrett stomps by on the sidewalk, his usual frown in place.
“Good morning, Mr. Barrett!” I call out.
He glares at me, but he does take the time to answer. “Mornin’, worthless young thing.”
That makes me smile more than anything anyone’s ever said to me. I think he likes me too. When a little girl rushing by tugging on her mama’s hand accidentally darts in front of him, he doesn’t raise his cane and thunder at her. He just huffs under his breath. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.
I already have a sheen of sweat on my skin by the time I make it into Harp and Hemline. Silas is straightening a blouse on one of the mannequins, but stops to greet me with a warm smile. Goddamn, he’s handsome. And makes me not hate the mornings so much. I almost look forward to coming into work now. Of course, I tell him none of this.
“I have an idea,” I say by way of greeting. Then I point to the fresh flowers in a vase by the register. “You bring those in every morning?”
Silas doesn’t even glance at them. “Mama always did, so I decided to continue the tradition.”
It makes my frozen, shriveled-up little heart melt just the tiniest bit. After I saw his bouquet on the dinner table at his house, it hit me that Silas is a man of many talents. How on earth his father could be disappointed is beyond me.
“So, what’s your idea?” he asks when I just stare at the flowers a little too long.
I blink. “Oh! So, I was thinking about how freaking hot it is here and how I can’t wait for winter. And then I started thinking about that magical day in the early fall when the coffee shops in San Francisco would start making pumpkin spice lattes. Which then made me think about the line around the building of Starbucks when they release their holiday drinks. And I thought…we need something like that at Harp and Hemline.”
Silas’s eyebrows start to wrinkle. “We need coffee? But we already have a coffee shop just across the square.”
I snort. “No!” I forget that sometimes people can’t follow my train of thought. It’s less of a train and more like a bizarresquirrel path. “I was thinking we need some signature thing to lure people in the door. Something we don’t give them any other time of the year. We need our own version of a PSL.”
Silas’s face clears and he walks toward me. “Like a giveaway for the first fifty customers or something? A raffle for clothing?”
I shake my head, really getting into the idea now that I have someone to talk it out with. “No, not exactly. We want to train them to spend money on clothes, not get them for free. But! Everyone loves food. And women around here love their champagne. What if we did free champagne and some sweet treat for the first week of the fall rush?”
Silas grabs my hands, just as excited as me now. “Yes! I can talk to Janie Brook. She was one of Mama’s best friends and she’s on the city council. I’ll see if she’ll give me a temporary alcohol permit.” Then he frowns. “But, Betsy, the fall rush starts the day after tomorrow. And tomorrow’s the Battle of the Boutiques. We don’t really have time to do anything other than pick up store-bought cookies.”
Another idea hits me and it’s as foreign as pink ruffles on bottle-tanned bodies. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I want this boutique to be a success, not for the bonus Silas promised me, but to shove it in his father’s face. And, if I’m being honest, I want to see Silas happy. I know how much his mama’s boutique means to him.
