Page 29 of You Had Me At Valentine

“Your grandmother would be happy that you’re making the inn your own.” The words come out gruff, reluctant.

Something warm unfurls in my chest, but I keep my voice steady. “I hope one day you will be, too.”

I walk out with my head high, leaving behind a decade of trying to be what someone else wanted. I make it all the way to the parking lot without throwing up in the bushes, so I feel pretty good about that.

The inn’s library becomes command central for Operation Figure Out How to Buy an Inn. I’ve got spreadsheets cued up across three laptops, bank websites open on my tablet, and enough coffee in my system to fuel a small country.

“The Douglas family can put in twenty percent,” Tabitha says, hanging up her phone. “Mom’s calling in favors from the Heritage Trust board members.”

I add the number to my growing list of potential investors. “That’s fabulous, thank you. It’s still a really short list, though.”

“I’ve got three more calls to make.” She eyes the empty coffee cup by my elbow. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“Breaks are for people who don’t have a VC firm to impress in...” I check my watch. “Twenty minutes.”

The Valentine’s Day party decorations sparkle around us, reminding me that I still have to clean up. I’ve been channeling all my hurt into action since before dawn: refining the business plan, researching venture capital opportunities, typing up my resignation letter.

In between confronting my father, I’ve been reaching out to every contact I have. Calling in my own favors.

Turns out running a resort for a decade gives you connections.

“Your presentation is solid.” Tabitha taps the business plan I’ve been working on since I first learned my father wanted to sell. “The party numbers alone show the inn’s potential. Add in your experience—”

The library door opens and Judy pokes her head in. “The investor guys are here early. In the lobby.”

I straighten my jacket and gather my materials. Time to prove my decade in the hospitality industry is worth something.

I’m in the middle of explaining projected revenue streams when Byron appears in the library doorway. My heart does a gymnastics routine at the sight of him, but I refuse to let it stick the landing.

“Gentlemen.” His lawyer voice slides through the room like silk. “Apologies, but your services are no longer required.”

The representatives from Forty-7 Capital exchange glances.

“What are you doing?” I counter heatedly. “We’re in the middle of something that doesn’t concern you.”

“Actually, it does.” His eyes lock with mine. “Give me five minutes. Please.”

The VC guys are already gathering their bags and printouts, clearly already sensing this is not the investment opportunity for them. They vanish the way they came before I can protest.

“You owe me a meeting with another venture capital firm.” I cross my arms and glare at Byron. “I’m not interested in whatever you have to say.”

My eyes did not get the message that I find him repulsive now and they drink in his casual jeans and t-shirt. It reminds me so much of teenage Byron that my eyes sting for a second.

And I realize then that no matter what, my heart has his name written on it. Forever. It’s like a fatal disease I can’t cure.

“You’ll change your mind very soon.” He pulls a folder from his messenger bag. “I withdrew from representing your father this morning. Then I made some calls.”

I blink. “You what?”

“I’m in the market for a new position, as it happens.” His lips quirk. “This will explain.”

He sets the folder on the table. Inside is paperwork for a business partnership. With my name on it. And his.

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re buying the inn.”

“We?” I spit back. “There’s no I in we.Weare not buying anything. What are you talking about?”

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