Page 14 of Better Luck Next Time

No…she didn’t get that vibe. Just a casualsometimeif I run into youkind of thing.

“Yeah, sure.”

He grinned, his blue-green eyes lighting up. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Then he turned around, answering his phone as he walked away.

She was surprised by how much emptier her table felt without him.

Chapter Six

Finn had spent half the night thinking about all the ways he’d screwed up with Adalia, only to find her in his path. Dottie would call that fate, he was sure, and he had to admit he liked the idea. He’d approached her table thinking he should apologize and maybe take a different tack, the kind where he didn’t attack her life choices and act like her self-appointed guru. The thing was, seeing her in Dottie’s workshop had done something to him he didn’t fully understand, and he didn’t just care about Adalia accepting his offer—he also wanted her to do what was best for her. And there was no denying she was an artist, through and through.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he’d looked her up on social media. Not the Buchanan account, hers. And the pieces she’d created were all nearly as evocative as the one he’d watched her tear apart.

But it had taken him all of five minutes to realize the direct approach wasn’t going to win him any favors. And another five minutes to discover he liked sitting and talking to her too much to fight with her. Yet. Because he hadn’t given up.

Truthfully, the reason he was downtown in the first place was because he’d met with a realtor friend to discuss which warehouses were available for lease in the next few months, something he’d known better than to mention to her. It wasn’t that he intended to strong-arm Adalia into the idea—clearly she was not the kind of person who could be strong-armed—but his plan had grown on him enough that he intended to follow through even if she’d meant it when she’d said, “It’s never, ever going to happen.” Plus, a part of him thought the temptation might be too great for her to stay away if the show was already a go.

No appropriate spaces were available, which had brought him to his next idea: Gretchen wanted an image rehab for Big Catch. Why not open there? They had an event space, which would eliminate the need to pay rent, plus the charity angle would do wonders for their rep. So he’d texted her to call him, saying he had something good for her.

But then Adalia had mentioned Jezebel, and it had propelled him back in time a few months to that awful night he’d broken River with some hard truths and a handful of supposition.

What the hell was he thinking? River had only just forgiven him (mostly) for making the decision to push forward with the sale without first discussing it with him. There was no way Adalia would jump on board the Bev Corp train, and truthfully, River wouldn’t be pleased either. No, if he was going to open the show anywhere, it should be at Buchanan. Maybe the suggestion would even be enough to get Adalia on board. Dottie would certainly be pleased.

But first he had to think fast and throw another idea at Gretchen.

“Hello,” he answered, striding away from the coffee shop. He’d been heading back to his car, parked in one of the public garages, when he’d spotted Adalia.

“Slay me with your brilliance,” Gretchen said. “Your former employees woke up this morning to a spray-painted wall. ‘Big Catch STDs.’ Real smart.”

Well, that one was easy.

“There’s your first opportunity for some good community engagement. Why not hire a local artist to paint a mural? Something that beautifies the street.”

She made ahmsound. “Okay, not bad. Not that they deserve it. Do you have anyone you can recommend?”

Not off the top of his head, but he could ask Dottie.

“I’ll send you a couple of recommendations later today.”

“Good deal.”

An old man sitting at an outdoor table at a restaurant, about the age of “Merv” from earlier, scowled at Finn like he’d trampled his daisies. He grinned at the guy, and the man threw a half-eaten dinner roll at him. That was a first. He kept right on walking like nothing had happened.

“And this idea you wanted to talk to me about?” Gretchen said. There was an eagerness in her voice, and he knew a moment of panic. What was he supposed to tell her?

He flashed to River again—to the devastation on his face the night he’d learned about the bizarre terms of Beau’s will. The outright fury that had bloomed in his eyes after being informed of the sale of Big Catch. And it was River who made him think of what to say next.

“How about holding a beer festival? Heavily discounted tickets for locals. You can give tents to all of the breweries in town without charging them. It would send the message that you’re not here to shut them down. You just want to peacefully coexist.” He’d met River at a beer festival, and Bev Corp certainly had the money to put on a good one.

“Interesting. As much as I hesitate to reward these ingrates for their behavior, you might be on to something. Put together a proposal for me and get it to me by early next week. Tuesday would work. Monday would be even better.”

“Will do,” he said, lingering outside the car garage in case the signal died when he entered it.

“Good work, Finn.”

She clicked off, and he felt a rush of warmth. Handing the art show over would have been a mistake—maybe on par with not telling River about the sale. He was glad he’d thought of another idea on the fly, and hell, it was a good one. Maybe it would even help River and Georgie.

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