Page 122 of Holding You
“Doesn’t mean I can’t still be interested in what you do. I actually recommended you to a friend who is rebranding his restaurant?—”
“In Chicago?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Did he call you?”
She nods. “That’s my new client.”
“Good.”
“So, I got him because of you?” Her smile starts to fall.
“No,” I reply quickly. “I only told him to check out your website. You did the work, Ruby. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“Mom!” Max calls out before Ruby can say a word.
She follows her son but glances over her shoulder twice before we reach Summer Fest.
We spot her brothers, the girls, and her father instantly. It’s hard not to when Hudson has a booth outside his bar and Brooke has one outside her bakery, which are right next to one another.
Weaving through the crowd as we make our way over, I take in the music playing from the town speakers, the booths serving food, the people dancing in front of the dance studio, and a couple of the little boutique store owners who are outside with their best sellers on display. The street is lined with wooden picnic tables, and there isn’t a free one in sight.
I’ll give it to the town, for as much as I think these things are overkill, it sure does bring in good business for everyone.
Sheriff Sloan, Brooke’s father, walks out of his daughter’s bakery. He waves a quick greeting and is on his way to keep an eye on the town.
Not that much goes on here to keep track of.
“Brownies!” Susie cheers and then looks at me with pleading eyes. “Can I get one?”
“Go for it,” I tell her and hand her some cash.
She and Max disappear into the bakery, running up to Luca and Miles standing in line and leaving Ruby and I on the sidewalk.
“Ruby, hi,” a female voice says from behind us.
I turn at the same time as Ruby to see who it is.
I have no clue, but Ruby forces a smile.
“Clarissa, hey, I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“Just for the weekend.” Clarissa’s eyes drift from Ruby to me. “I don’t believe we have met. I’m Clarissa,” she says and holds out her hand.
“Declan Young.”
Clarissa gasps. “TheDeclan Young?”
I do not like the way she said that.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Wow, Ruby, from one millionaire to the next. Iloveyour taste in men.”
I glance between her and Ruby, looking for a sign, but I don’t catch on.
Even then, I don’t appreciate whatever this Clarissa is insinuating.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I practically growl at the woman, and she steps back. “I think you owe?—”
