“I didn’t know I was meeting with Devin and your dad, or that a member of the city council would be there,” I say hastily. “My boss asked me to sit in because I recently researched eminent domain, the legal doctrine that would enable your dad’s plan to work, but he didn’t tell me who the client was that we were meeting or what exactly all my research was for.”
“So you were just as blindsided as I was,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry, Cass. You don’t deserve to be dragged into the middle of my family’s drama.”
I stride forward until the only thing separating us is the kitchen island. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who’s sorry. Your own father is trying to leverage his political connections to take away your business. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.”
Turning fully to face me, Perry leans his hips against the cabinet behind him, fingers squeezing the countertop. “Furious, of course. But not surprised. My dad has been trying to control me my whole life. But Devin…” His jaw flexes so tightly it trembles. “I thought he had my back.”
“He does,” I say.
Perry’s eyes flash.
I raise my palms. “I know it’s hard to believe, and you have every right to be angry with him. He should have told you right away what your dad was planning—he admits that. But he didn’t tell you because he thought your dad’s idea was so far-fetched it wasn’t even possible, and he didn’t want you to worry prematurely. Misguided, I know,” I add at his dubious expression. “For what it’s worth, he feels horrible. He said he should have realized your dad would go to any lengths to control your life, and he regrets not trying to stop him sooner.”
Sighing, Perry scrubs a palm over his jaw. When he looks at me, some of the tension has seeped from his posture, but there’s still a hard edge to his smile. “I thought you said you weren’t here to make excuses for him.”
“You’re right, I’m not. But I do think you should give him a chance to explain himself and apologize—in person.”
Perry’s quiet for a long, tense moment. Finally, he rolls his shoulders and pushes away from the countertop. “I’ll think about it.”
I exhale a long breath.
“But first, tell me how you think I can save Blooms & Baubles. Fair warning though: if it turns out you were serious about me selling a kidney, I’ll have to pass. I’m pretty attached to mine.” A flicker of amusement crosses his lips, and the knot in my gut loosens a fraction.
“No black-market organ sales required. Scout’s honor.”
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he motions toward one of the low-backed stools at the kitchen island, and I sit.
“Want a beer?” he asks over his shoulder.
I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
He fills a glass with ice water and sets it on the table in front of me. Twisting open his beer with a phfffz, Perry drags the other stool out from the opposite side of the island and sits so we’re facing each other. The tall wooden island is long but narrow—only two feet wide or so, which means even though we’re sitting on opposite sides we’re still close. Under the makeshift table, Perry’s knee skims mine and my nerves buzz at the contact.
Rather than sitting in Perry’s cozy kitchen, I suddenly feel like we’re back at the lakeshore, lying side by side in the grass, pretending not to notice our skin grazing as fireworks explode in the sky above—or the undeniable connection blooming between us.
Perry sips his beer. The movement shifts his knee away, breaking our contact, and no, that is not disappointment I feel. Nope.
Dipping his chin, he peers into my face. “Okay, talk to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I launch into my festival idea. His eyes widen with every passing minute. Soon, he’s leaning forward, his strong forearms braced flat against the tabletop, fingers clasped. It’s only when I’ve finished that I register I’ve unconsciously mirrored his pose and my hands are resting a mere inch from his. The realization ignites a wave of tingling heat in my belly. Cheeks warming, I lean back, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Cass… this… is…” He lets out a breathy laugh. “You came up with this idea for a festival all on your own—tonight?”
I nod. “It was Devin’s idea to add beer plus look for corporate sponsors, and I think it’s a good one. A well-publicized, corporate-sponsored community event would help bring in new customers and make you a decent amount of money in a short amount of time. If you can pay off what you owe in back taxes, or even make a significant dent in the amount, it would make the city’s case that much harder—”