Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,62

with people. His people, neighbors and friends, all of whom had the same town pride that he did.

“My restaurant is going to serve great beer and great food,” he said to the council members. “It’s going to bring a ton of people downtown.”

“I’m excited for the possibilities,” the mayor said. “Now we just have to get Maddy on board.”

“Why do I have the feeling that getting Maddy on board means getting Hadley on board?” Nick, who’d been helping him out, asked in a low voice.

“Right.” Cam hoped his tone didn’t indicate how impossible that seemed. He’d stepped back to try to let Hadley and her grandma work this out. He wasn’t one to pressure, even if he had just signed a contract with the restaurant executives for the branding and naming of the restaurant chain. Now his butt was really on the line.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Ian. “Hey, Cam. I’m just calling to give you a heads-up. The LA execs wanted to send some reporters over to your local festival today to drum up some interest in the new venture. It would just involve taking some photos at your booth, maybe giving a general statement about the restaurant. Sound okay?”

“Sure, thanks, Ian. I’ll look out for them.”

“Uh-oh.” Nick gestured with his head just as Cam hung up. “Here comes Hadley. And she looks like she’s definitely not on board.”

Cam looked up suddenly to see Hadley standing there. “Want one?” Cam waved his hand over the carefully lined-up beer samples, wishing she wasn’t looking at him like he’d just robbed the bank. He wanted to tell her how excited everyone was about the beer and pretzels. And about his restaurant. But of course he couldn’t.

It took less than a second to see that she was, indeed, royally angry. She stood there, fidgeting a little, doing this nervous thing with her hands she always did when she was mad, and frowning deeply. Yep, he was in deep trouble.

“No thanks.” Her voice was whisper-low but sharp. “I’m here to ask you to please stop glad-handing influencers.”

“Influencers?” He looked around, half expecting to see young fashion icons with huge Instagram followings modeling expensive clothing. But, no, it was just everyone they knew eating and drinking and having fun. She pointed toward the mayor, who was across the aisle visiting with the pie ladies, a few members of the town council by her side. “Oh, you mean the mayor? I just handed her a beer.”

“Exactly.” She crossed her arms. “You’re schmoozing the town council.”

Cam leaned in. Unfortunately, doing so gave him a whiff of her scent, summery, fresh, ocean-breezy, and it threw him. “You’re forgetting your grandma holds the keys to the front door.” He tried to sound firm, but inside his emotions were everywhere. He loved seeing her. He hated that they were fighting, hated more that he’d started driving along this road and couldn’t find a way to exit.

And even worse, it was getting harder and harder to fight his crazy impulses. Like the one he was having right now to reach out and kiss her frown away. He used to have the power to do just that. Crack a dumb joke, say something to make her blush, and nine times out of ten she’d abandon her bad mood and laugh.

Wait. What was he doing? He was supposed to stay safely on the other side of this chalk line they’d drawn between them. But he kept dangling his toes over into her territory.

“Look, Hadley,” he said, giving a smile and a wave to the people gathering in line behind her. “I intend to give every single person who passes by here a sip of beer and one of my sister’s outstanding pretzel balls and tell them about my restaurant because my strategy is winning. You’re welcome to employ your own strategy.”

She planted her feet in a stance that clearly signaled he should back down or else. “My strategy doesn’t involve political bribery.”

His anger flared. Instead of backing down, he went ahead and threw gas on the fire. “Yeah, well, you were apparently entertaining the vet school over there.”

She tossed him a you idiot look. Which he deserved. But he still couldn’t help egging her on.

“That was strictly business,” she snapped back. “Fuller was giving me suggestions.”

“And he was holding your hand for, like, three minutes.”

She gestured in frustration. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Right. Single and holding hands and checking out your butt.” He was really burying