Page 55 of So Close

“And Auburn?”

She found him looking at her intently, an expression she couldn’t quite read on his face. “Mmm?”

“It wasn’t jealousy. The thing with Patrick. I mean—” The corner of his mouth turned up, that rare Trey smile that she’d already learned to crave. “Like any sane man would, I wish I were the only person who’d ever felt you come apart in his arms—”

She made a small involuntary sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and his smile brightened another notch.

“But I meant what I said. I don’t want you to take his money, because—because I have nothing but respect for the fact that you walked away from him. And the last thing I want is for you to have to turn to him.”

She couldn’t believe—couldn’tbelieve—that she’d thought him icy or power hungry orlike Patrickin any way, and she was about to say so when an eardrum splittinghonk—the firetruck going by—made her jump. The parade was passing them now, and she turned to watch for a moment as the firefighters tossed saltwater taffy and other candy toward the curb, and Trey’s nephews and her two young guests dove after it. When she turned back toward him, he was watching the parade, too, and his smile had bloomed into a disbelieving grin. “Is that alawn chairtwirlinggroup?”

“Indeed,” she said.

“If I were not already in love with Beachcrest and Tierney Bay, I would be now.” He turned the grin on her, and she felt a little weak in the knees at the wattage of full-on Trey amusement.

She caught her breath, rallied her sanity, and said, “We’re going to figure this out. We are.”

“We,” he repeated.

“Yes. We.”

His gaze found hers and held, and held. There was so much warmth there that for a moment she lost all sense of time and place—she just wanted to turn herself over to it. Then his face cracked with mischief. “If you can stop fighting with me long enough for us to work together.”

27

As the parade goers drifted back to Beachcrest for the afternoon’s barbecue, Trey and Auburn hid in the lobby and called Trey’s friend James, the cloud-sourcing expert.

“You need better incentives,” James said bluntly, as soon as Auburn was done explaining the situation and the need for speed.

They spent a while brainstorming, and Trey multitasked on his email, calling in what he described as “the last favors left on earth” to get some of his business buddies to donate subscriptions and services.

“Who’s going to support some inn in Oregon because they want a Home Base subscription? Or cloud computing services?” Auburn demanded.

“It’s a long shot,” James admitted. “But it’s better than what you’ve got there. You need people willing to give five hundred dollars. Or a thousand. Ideally? More.”

When he put it like that, it made Auburn’s stomach curl in despair.

James frowned on screen. “The real key is how you get the word out. I’d suggest running both Bootstrapper and social media ads. Hundreds of dollars a day of each, if possible.”

“It’s possible,” Auburn said.

“Are you good with creative?” James asked.

“Creative?”

“The design for the ads.”

“Um—yes?” Auburn hazarded, shooting Trey a look.

He nodded. “My assistant can do them.”

Thank you, she mouthed.

James ended the phone call shortly after that, and Auburn hung up and buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t,” Trey said. “Please. Don’t give up. It’s only Thursday.”

“Or, if you look at it from a different perspective, it’s already Thursday,” she said.

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