Margot perked up immediately at the sight of coffee. “Are you going to come in or just stand there looking like a lost puppy?”
He shuffled forward, and she snatched a cup before I could blink. “What are you doing here?” I asked, proud of how steady my voice sounded.
“Well you weren’t at Marigold’s,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Figured you’d be at the cafe, but then—ah… Rachel mentioned you’d be here. And I thought you might want your—” Rhett’s eyes drifted across the office. “Twelfth latte of the day?”
He extended the drink toward me, a soft smile pulling at the edges of his lips. I dropped my eyes and accepted it. Our fingers brushed, and I caught the gasp in my throat as the familiar warmth bloomed in my chest.
Margot and I exchanged looks. She raised her eyebrows as if to say,ask him.My cheeks flamed.
“Is there anything I can do?” Rhett asked, oblivious.
“You’ve done enough,” I muttered and glared at the tips of my sneakers. It came out sharper than I meant.
“You could help field phone calls!” Margot chirped with a suspicious amount of cheer, swishing the ice of her coffee. “Vendors are dropping like flies. And Georgie is this close—” she pinched her fingers together. “—to having a nervous breakdown.”
“Am not,” I mumbled, though I was pretty sure I’d start crying if anyone looked at me funny.
Rhett’s chuckle was low. “Good thing I’m getting used to Georgie breakdowns.”
I forgot I was supposed to be mad. “I thought your specialty was bursting pipes,” I shot back.
“Call me a Renaissance man,” he replied.
???
The next hour blurred into caffeine, phone calls, and crisis management. Or maybe my head spun because Rhett kept leaning over my shoulder, offering suggestions in that calm, deep voice. His aftershave carried something woodsy—pine and leather, maybe—and it kept drifting closer every time he did. I shook it away and forced my eyes back to the spreadsheet.
By midday, the vendor list looked…marginallyless disastrous. A few loyal regulars had already agreed to stay, even if it meant setting up in the rain or in the somewhat depressing high school gymnasium. For the first time all week, things were starting to look up.
Margot stretched her arms above her head. “Alright, when are you going to spill about your mystery contact?”
My stomach twisted. I knew what she was doing—subtlety wasn’t part of her skillset. And if I was the type to avoid conflict, she was the type to light it on fire just to see what happened. That was Margot: self-assured, precise, and completely unafraid to cut straight to the point with a well-sharpened verbal sword.
Rhett ran his hand through his hair. If he was looking at me, I couldn’t tell—I was too busy pretending to research something on the computer.
“She’s an event planner from home. Last-minute disasters are kind of her thing,” he finally responded.
I ducked my head between my hands as a flush rose to my cheeks. The first event I was in charge of was a confirmeddisaster. Of course, I didn’t need the reminder—nervous Bluebell Cove business owners and an onslaught of disgruntled vendors kept me humble. But hearing it from him made my stomach churn.
Margot huffed. “What can she do that we can’t?” I was sure she had accompanied it with a devastating roll of her eyes.
“She has connections,” Rhett quipped.
“And she’s helping us out of the goodness of her heart?” Margot’s tone could cut glass.
Rhett hesitated. “Yes.”
I didn’t wait for her to dig deeper. My chair squealed as I stood. “Well, I’m hungry!” I announced, and bolted for the door.
The diner downstairs had mostly cleared after lunch. I slid into a booth, aiming for space, but Rhett followed and took the seat across from me. Margot slipped away, presumably to find her mother in the kitchen.
“You’re avoiding me,” he said, as casual as the weather report.
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’ve barely looked me in the eye all day.”
“That’s because I’m busy.”
