Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,115

and was there any chance she could come to town earlier than planned?

She’d said two things: “Sure” and “This is that woman from the flower shop, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” he’d agreed easily. “The woman from the flower shop.”

And then he’d texted Holden Hampshire, that asshole. This is Ben Lawson from Lawson’s Lager House. Can you do me a favor that’s actually a favor for Maya? A way to make what you did less shitty?

He’d followed that up with meetings. Eve and Sawyer and Nora and Jake, first, who had embraced their assignments readily, if with a large dose of teasing.

And then Pearl, Karl, and Eiko. Of course, they’d all come through. That was the upside to life in Moonflower Bay. The meddlers could be counted on to meddle for good when you wanted them to. There was an existing meddling infrastructure just waiting to be activated.

Brie arrived Tuesday morning, and he showed her around the bar.

“I know this is quick, and I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to hold down the fort through Saturday. I’ve got Carter, who you’ll meet when he shows up later, all prepped. He knows you’re here, and he’s going to be working as much as he can.”

Then he took Brie upstairs. Like Maya had done with Holden, he was lending out his apartment. Brie had done him a solid by dropping everything and coming, and he owed her.

Also, he didn’t want to see Maya.

Well, he did want to see Maya. It was all he wanted, basically. But he had to sacrifice her for the short term in order to make things right—really right—for the long term. He hoped.

“I’m sorry this is sort of a trial by fire,” he said to Brie.

“I’ll figure it out. And I can text you if I have any questions, right? It sounds like you’re going to be helming a major logistics push in addition to doing the grant stuff. I don’t want to bug you, but I assume you’re not going totally off the grid?”

“Definitely text me anytime. And thank you. I appreciate this.”

“No problem.” He started to thank her again, but she waved him off. “Go.”

So he went—to his parents’ house to hunker down.

On Tuesday afternoon, just under the “Give me twenty-four hours” plea Ben had made, Maya received a very surprising text.

Holden: Hi. Have you blocked me, lol?

Maya: I should have blocked you.

Holden: Right. Okay, so I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’ve had a change of plans. Benedick will be there Saturday.

Holy crap. Ben had done it—whatever “it” was.

She wasn’t prepared for this. Her first impulse was to fire off a Screw you, I don’t need your charity text, but she made herself ponder the offer with her businessperson hat on. Which, she reasoned, probably meant it was okay to text her business partner.

Maya: Holden just texted and said he can do one more show. What did you do?

Ben: I had a chat with him.

Maya: Did you break any of his bones?

Ben: I did not.

Maya: Did you have anyone else break any of his bones?

Ben: Still no.

Maya: I want to tell him to eff off, but I shouldn’t, right?

Ben: Well, you know how much I loathe the guy, but if he does Saturday, you don’t have to cancel that show AND you get the Globe review, right?

Maya: Yeah, I know. You’re right.

Ben: Uh, what did you just say?

Maya: You were right. Once. Don’t let it go to your head.

Ben: Hold off on canceling Sunday, too. You never know how things will work out.

Maya: Why? Are you going to break his bones in person on Saturday?

Ben: I can say with 100 percent certainty that I will not break any of Holden Hampshire’s bones.

Ben: 90 percent.

Maya: But if I wait to cancel Sunday, I’ll only be giving those people twenty-four hours’ notice.

Ben: Trust.

So she trusted.

They spent the next few days writing the first draft of their proposal—and bantering. But not the same way as usual. It was more like…bantering about spreadsheets? And also not in person, because Ben was gone.

She went to the bar Tuesday night, only to find Brie working alone. She went up the back stairs and knocked on his door—no answer. And there were no lights on in his apartment. Judging by Ben’s texts, he was working hard on the application. But he wasn’t doing it at home.

Well, okay. He was allowed to be somewhere else.

And it wasn’t like he wasn’t in touch. The next day, he started emailing her ad budgets