Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,6

local businesses as much as we can. I like proposal number three, but I’d prefer to do it on consignment rather than buying outright.”

Nerves tickled my stomach. I love running my own business, but these kinds of negotiations were not my favorite thing. I'd known they might ask to put the arrangement on consignment.

That didn't work for me. First of all, the accounting would be way too time-consuming, and second, I couldn't afford to front the materials in the hopes I'd get paid for them eventually. Not right now. I needed to get paid when I dropped off my stock, not when they eventually sold.

“These are perishable goods, and on the low end of the price range. I don't think consignment makes sense. If you're worried they won't sell I'd rather start with smaller, more frequent orders and be paid when you receive delivery, not later.”

“Is this a deal-breaker?” Royal sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his flat stomach.

“I think it has to be, yes.” I wished I sounded more confident and authoritative. Wished I'd said Yes, absolutely, and wasn’t terrified he was going to turn me down.

A regular order from The Inn wasn't going to change my life. It certainly wasn't going to solve my cash flow problem. Not on its own. But every little bit counted, and placement in The Inn’s gift shop was added exposure to the many tourists who flowed through The Inn at Sawyers Bend.

The Inn was a local landmark, and a lot of people who couldn't afford to stay there still visited the restaurant, gift shop, and bar. They might not buy one of my treats at The Inn, but they'd see the package and recognize my sign when they walked through town.

My free hand curled into a fist in my lap, betraying my nerves. I forced my fingers to uncurl and reached for the cappuccino, pretending this was all no big deal. Like I regularly had breakfast with Royal Sawyer in his office at dawn. Sure, and I'd have tea with the Queen of England later in the day.

Nothing about this was normal.

Without saying anything, Royal unwrapped one of the brownies in the basket I'd set on his desk. Salted caramel. My favorite. He broke off the corner and popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes as chocolate and caramel melted across his tongue, the sharp bite of sea salt making the sugar sweeter. When he opened his eyes, he took a sip of coffee, swallowed, and shook his head.

“I can't say no to those brownies. And we owe you one. Let's do it, starting with orders twice a week. I'll expect you to coordinate with the gift shop to make sure you're keeping us stocked and adjust that timing as needed.”

“I don't want you to say yes because you think you owe me,” I said as every instinct for self-preservation urged me to shut the hell up. It didn't matter why he said yes, it only mattered that he did. If my foolish recklessness had helped me get their business, then everything had worked out for the best.

I couldn't help myself. My pride was stronger than that sense of self-preservation.

Royal flashed a grin that had me pressing my knees together, and this time that grin reached all the way to his deep blue eyes.

“I would have said yes anyway, but I would have pushed harder on the consignment thing. What you did this morning was incredibly foolhardy. It was also very brave. Sweetheart Bakery is a lot smaller than The Inn, but we both know what would have happened if that guy had managed to dump all those cockroaches into the building. You saved us a lot of trouble. I understand you don't want us to owe you, but the fact is that we do. And your proposal is a good one. It's a win-win. So, smile and say, Thank you, Mr. Sawyer, and finish your breakfast.”

He winked at me. ‘Thank you, Mr. Sawyer.’ I couldn't help the quirk of my mouth. I was impervious to flirting by handsome men. The wink, that smile—none of it would work on me. I absolutely did not smile back. This was business. That was all.

Dutifully, I said, “Thank you, Royal,” deliberately using his first name to prove he didn’t intimidate me.

Never mind that he did. A lot. Far more than I wanted to admit. Something about Royal Sawyer left me off-center. Restless.

To cover my discomfort, I took another sip of coffee,