For the next thirty minutes, she spits out everything she knows we need to do. It’s amazing how she can hold this much in her head. She gives me names of people we should contact and even helpful information about the business owners we’ll be speaking to.
We make a plan to meet back here, at Victoria Hall, in two days. And that’s when I start my mental countdown, knowing I likely won’t see her between now and then.
CHAPTER 20
UGH, I HATE IT WHEN HE’S CUTE.
BILLIE
I needed those forty-eight hours away from him because, I mean, why did my body decide the fact he went to the library was hot? And what the hell was up with the bubbly feelings I got when he oh-so-patiently asked me to slow down and then proceeded to make a list of all my random thoughts? It makes zero sense. Balsam Bay’s library is awesome, butdecidedlyunsexy to me since most of my memories from the place are of being told to be quiet while my mom browsed the shelves. And I could have made a list on my own, I’m sure. Eventually. Even though I hate lists.
Anyway, I’m glad I’ve had a couple of days to cool off from the absolute chaos my hormones were causing. I was so ready to cancel that meeting and stay in bed. It would have been so easy to give in, let the Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder dictate my day once again, and wallow a little longer. In the end, I couldn’t come up with an excuse to cancel that wouldn’t be a lie or wouldn’t cause Peter to ask questions, so I went. I was late, of course, but I made it. And by the time we left, I felt lighter than I had in days.
Getting my period yesterday also guaranteed I wouldn’t be a teary mess today, but nothing can be done about my time-management skills. Usually, I err on the side of caution, trying to give myself more time than necessary, but it doesn’t always work out in my favor.
Managing to be over thirty minutes early today, I decided to hop into Shore Thing for a coffee. Thankfully, Matt knew Peter’s usual order, so I got him a flat white after I reminded Matt that Darcy’s name is, in fact, Peter. I need to do a better job of remembering not to call him by his first name. Or think of him by his first name. Not that I think about him. Much.
As I absolutelydo notthink about the man I spent three orgasm-filled nights with, I walk back to Victoria Hall. While I’m attempting to balance our cups in one hand so I can grab the bag I left in the backseat of my car, Darcy pulls up next to me.
“Let me give you a hand.” He’s out of his fancy rental and taking the cups in record time, smiling down at me easily as he always does. “Thirsty today?”
I bang my elbow on the truck door, pulling my bag a little too hard. “Fuck me,” I mutter, biting my tongue to hold in the wail wanting to come out.
Why do they call it a funny bone? There is nothing funny about this.
Once I straighten, bag firmly on my shoulder, I’m faced with the tall, handsome man who always manages to smell heavenly. He’s got his lips pulled between his teeth, like he’s doing his best not to laugh. In his defense, he says nothing.
“The little one is yours,” I say, shutting the truck door and walking ahead of him toward the building.
When I don’t hear him behind me, I turn back to see where he is. The son of a bitch balances both cups in one hand, opens his car door, pulls out a laptopanda folder full of papers,and doesn’t spill a drop. He also doesn’t bruise himself in the process. He makes it look so easy.
We walk in, greeting the receptionist, who already knows we have the room booked, and she waves us in.
Once I have all my things laid out in front of me: laptop, notebook, pen, a pencil just in case, and my water bottle, Peter places my black coffee next to my right hand. He makes sure to turn the cup so the opening to drink from is facing me.
“Thanks for the coffee, Bill.” He winces. “Nope. Don’t like that. Gonna stick with Billie if Beth is really out of the running?” His stupid, hopeful puppy-dog eyes are almost enough to convince me to let him call me the name that sends a shiver down my spine every single time I hear it.
“You’re welcome. And Billie it is.” I pull up our shared document with notes from our last meeting. “Okay, so environmental assessment was one of our next steps since it’ll inform everything else, so I can reach out?—”
“Actually, I’ve looked into it. There’s a firm in Halifax specializing in marine environmental work. They can do the assessment in four to six weeks for us.”
With scrunched eyebrows, I ask, “You already found a firm?”
“I made some calls and got a preliminary quote.” He slides a sheet of paper across the table to me. “It’s all in the budget.”
I stare at the piece of paper, not seeing any of the numbers. “When did you have time to do all of this?” I don’t mean to ask it so accusingly, but what the fuck? Things do not move this fast around here. Ever.
“I’ve… had a lot of free time.” His sheepish smile fades. “Turns out you can get a lot of shit done when you’re not working eighty-hour weeks.”
I don’t like the self-deprecating tone one bit, but I don’t ask any further questions. We’re not here to be buddies. I need to keep reminding myself of that.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I ran the numbers three different ways. The conservative estimate puts us at 1.4 million for phase one, which is the parking lot, boardwalk, and vendor infrastructure. The moderate is 1.8, with optimistic coming in at 2.2.”
I whistle. “Damn, that’s a lot of money for a town of five thousand.”
“It is, but check this out.” He flips his laptop, showing me a spreadsheet with way too many numbers. “I looked at three other towns in the Maritimes that did similar waterfront development. All of them saw roughly a fifty percent increase in summer tourist revenue within two years, and a twenty-five percent increase in year-round business activity.”
I can’t help the awe in my voice. “You built an entire financial model?”
