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“It’s not coffee, it’s dessert.” He took another more enthusiastic taste.
“You like it, admit it.” I elbowed him in the ribs, and he chuckled.
He grunted something that kind of sounded like an agreement.
“Not all new things are bad.” I hedged.
“You aren’t talking about coffee, are you?” The thin non-smile on his lips told me he caught where I was going with the conversation.
“It was pretty obvious you hated all the changes I made here.” I modulated my tone, no accusation, no disappointment. We needed to talk about this rationally.
“I don’t hate them… not anymore. It took me a while to understand that what you were doing wasn’t going to ruin Blue Star.” He rubbed the back of his neck and winced at his admission.
“Ha, I knew you hated all of this.” I pointed at the tent, the parking lot, and the dancehall.
“Past tense. I misunderstood the goal, and now I’m getting it. Did I tell you after that viral video of the harvest we filled all the openings for the subscription farm boxes for the next year?”
“That’s so great.” I wanted to stand up and fist pump but held back. This wasn’t the time to gloat or sayI told you so. Atley had things to explain, and it was important I listened.
“It’s magic that you’ve brought to this place. And I hope you can keep doing it not only for Blue Star. I can see you helping a ton of small businesses. Like this lady down by Blanco who is growing lavender, and the nutty hippy couple at Devil’s Backbone creamery who make goat cheese, or the young guy from Austin who’s doing all kinds of cool stuff with bees and honey. They all need the magic you’ve brought here.”
Helping grow businesses with unique stories and local products would be fun.
“It’s not magic, it’s marketing.”
“No, you’ll never convince me of that.” He shook his head hard enough that I thought he’d lose his hat. “Marketing is bigger stores and smaller prices. You’re a storyteller.”
“Thank you for that.” My heart fluttered. Being called a storyteller was a massive compliment. “I was worried you’d never be okay with my… zealous promotion.”
He squeezed me against his side and whispered a kiss over my temple. “As long as you use your powers for good, be as zealous as you want.”
The crunch of work boots on the gravel path disrupted our moment… maybe this was a work thing after all.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we need access to the main electrical panel.” The man from the tent company chugged his bottle of water while he waited for one of us to help him.
Atley stood with his iced coffee. “Sure thing, follow me.” As he walked away, he half turned to give me a smile over his shoulder as he took a drink of the coffee. I knew he’d like it.
Atley’s suggestion about helping others had my brain burning. Tourism and agriculture generated tens of billions of dollars in the Hill Country. Helping small businesses get a bigger piece of that pie sounded like the perfect antidote to selling national brand consumer products for a couple of decades. There was more in Elmer than Blue Star. Jude Morgan had already asked me about social media advertising for his real estate company.
This was a Texas-sized opportunity for me. Forget Napa. Forget E. Rossi. This was better.
It was a foundation for a new life. Ideas raced around my head faster than the two dogs chasing each other in the parking lot. An inkling of a concept grew slowly into something bigger the longer I sat there watching the tent construction. A million possibilities.
Atley made his way back to me slowly, hindered by the dogs running circles around him. He stopped to kneel and petGeorgie, ruffling his mohawk and scratching under his chin. While Georgie distracted him, Major took advantage and licked the side of his face, knocking Atley’s hat askew. He smiled and gave his dog extra pats after he fixed his hat and stood.
My heart beat so hard watching him that it almost broke a rib. Building a life in Elmer with Atley, a life that mattered to me. A life we shared.
Shit. That was huge.
My heart that, a moment ago, beat too hard seemed to stutter to a stop. I was terrifyingly close to falling utterly, madly in love with Atley Rivers. Not the boring, bland emotion I’d felt for Matthew the last few years, either. Atley made me feel alive, and my dawning realization that it was more than lust…
Shit, I should have put a shot of something stronger than Madagascar vanilla in my coffee.
Our eyes met over the distance, and the world fell away. The dogs bouncing at his feet. The tent construction. The hot Texas summer sun. All of it faded into nothing. The connection that linked us grew and flexed, wrapping me in its web. It was more than chemistry or pheromones. It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of connection.
He stopped and stood in front of me and started to speak once or twice but stopped. He paced a few times back and forth. The dogs flopped in the dust and watched him along with me.
A million reasons why falling in love with him was a bad idea raced through my head. I didn’t care about any of them. I’d spent years with the right kind of man but with no passion. Atley was a wild card. I’d never known someone like him, and I wanted years and years to unravel the reason he was so addictive.
