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Of course! The babysitting service. Surely, they could send him someone temporarily. Palming his cell phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the number, nestled between La Dolce Vita and Pine Mountain Middle School. Highlighting it and punchingsend,he prided himself on his quick thinking. Parenting might not be instinctive just yet, but he was getting the hang of it. This was going to work out just fine. Crisis averted, no sweat.
Twenty minutes later, Murphy’s Law had ganged up on him in an epic coup.
“You don’t have anybody available at all? Not even temporarily?” Gavin raked a hand through his hair and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carmichael. The short notice makes it a bit of a challenge, and our sitters are in high demand as it is. At the very best, I’d say you’re looking at a couple of weeks. I take it you want us to call if someone becomes available in the meantime?”
“Please.” Gavin rattled off the number of the restaurant as a backup, a fresh wave of trepidation punching through his gut as he ended the call. He didn’t even have hours, let alone weeks to wait for a sitter. He’d been so focused on finding someone for the day that he hadn’t thought of the two fifteen-hour double shifts that followed. And that delivery truck was going to pass through the west gate at the resort in twenty minutes, which meant if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t make it.
If he couldn’t find someone to come to Bree, she was going to have to come to him, like it or not. Flipping the phone over in his hand and scrolling back through the numbers until he found the one for the middle school, Gavin did the only thing he could think of.
“Mrs. Wilkerson? This is Gavin Carmichael, Bree Shelton’s brother. I’m in a really big jam, and I was wondering if you could help me out.”
* * *
Sloane stirredthe steaming bowl of minestrone in front of her, propping one elbow over the table in La Dolce Vita’s empty dining room as she watched the jewel-toned vegetables swirl through the broth like New Year’s confetti in Times Square.
“Thanks for letting me come straight here. I don’t think I could’ve handled going back to the bungalow just yet.” She cast a look at her best friend, noting that Carly’s chef’s whites already bore dribbles of whatever she’d been working on in the kitchen even though the restaurant wouldn’t open for another few hours.
“Like I’m going to turn you away. Plus, the dinner staff won’t get here for another hour or so, and Adrian can handle getting the tasting menu started.” Carly waved toward the propped-open doors leading to the kitchen, where the burly sous chef in question was already creating both some incredible smells and a holy racket. Strains of Sinatra oldies filtered in around the metallic clatter of pots and pans, and although Sloane was tempted to smile, she just couldn’t work it up.
“I hate to say it, but I was wondering when that wanderlust of yours was going to catch up with you. Greece, huh?” Carly cocked her head, sending her dark braid over one shoulder.
Her friend’s amusement wasn’t lost on Sloane, who wiggled her brows even though it was mostly a defense mechanism.
“Yup. One more place to cross off my bucket list. As soon as I can figure out how to finance the trip, anyway.” Each idea she’d come up with on the drive back to Pine Mountain had been worse than the last, to the point that despair threatened to seep past the bravado she normally wore like a suit of armor.
“Your bucket list reads like a cross between a world-tour travel manual and a stunt double’s daily agenda.” Carly waved a breadstick with an accusatory flourish before taking a bite. She wasn’t embellishing. Sloane had a bucket list as long as her leg, and she added to it as often as she crossed things off, which was to say, as frequently as possible.
A tiny smile found Sloane’s lips, and she let it stay for a brief moment. “Yeah, but you’ve gotta admit. I’m the only person you know who’s hiked to the top of an active volcanoandlearned how to drive a motorcycle all in the same month.”
Carly brushed the breadcrumbs from her fingers, casting Sloane a measured glance. “I know that when I moved in with Jackson, it left you without a roommate, and I wish I could help you with the money to make up for it. But even small, intimate weddings are bank-breakers these days.” Her fingers moved absently to the engagement ring hanging on a gold chain around her neck, a definite safety precaution considering Carly’s profession.
Sloane’s gut twanged at the remorse on her friend’s face. “Don’t even think about apologizing for moving in with the love of your life. Plus, I’m not worried,” she said, feeling instantly guilty at the lie. But what kind of friend would she be if she burdened Carly with a sack full of issues a week before the woman’s wedding? “Something will come up to get me on my way.”
Carly set her jaw in thought. “Well, let’s see. Maybe you could teach another online class?”
Sloane shook her head. “They take months to organize, and that’s time I don’t have.” She swirled her spoon around the bright pops of carrot and zucchini in her bowl without taking a bite. “Believe me, I’ve thought of everything.”
“Everything?”
“Including trying to sell my eggs to a fertility clinic.” Of course her mother had been right. The age cutoff for that was twenty-frickin’-seven. Her eggs really were too old for making babies.
Carly laughed. “I hate to see you leave. I knew you wouldn’t stay forever. Hell, I didn’t thinkI’dbe here this long.” Carly’s lips twisted into a wistful smile, reminding Sloane that the original plan had been to stay in Pine Mountain for a year, tops. Until Carly had gone and fallen in love with a local contractor, her new job,andthe tiny Blue Ridge town.
“Ah, true love,” Sloane said with a dreamy sigh. “Maybe I should write you into a short story. I could probably sell it in four seconds flat.”
Carly’s smile held the tiniest threat. “Don’t even think about it. Anyway, are you sure about leaving? Maybe you could just write the book from here.”
“Only if I want to kill my career in one swift move. Let’s face it, I have to knock this book out of the park, and I haven’t had a decent idea since I landed here. I don’t just write on location, sweetie. Iliveon location, and it’s time for me to move on. If I want to spark my creativity and write a bestseller, I’m going to have to pack my bags. It’s my process. Always has been.”
Her stomach began to ache, and she kept swirling her untasted soup. Forget going to Greece to write a book. If she couldn’t come up with some money, and stat, she wasn’t even going to be able to afford her rent.
Which meant her only available option would be to move home and try to write a career-saving book under her mother’s disapproving nose. Talk about your hostile conditions.
“You know, selling a short story isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe you could try that,” Carly said.
“The whole problem is that small-town settings are off-limits, remember? And we are smack in the middle of a small town.” As much as she hated to admit it, Sloane was utterly out of story ideas, other than the one Belinda had shot down. If she wanted glamorous ideas, she needed a glamorous locale.
