Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,95

never actually meet up with any of them.”

That was…pleasantly surprising. “How come?”

She shrugged. “It never works. You can’t tell through a screen or through DM if you have chemistry with someone.”

Did they have chemistry? Would she have slept with him if they didn’t? “Hey, I wanted to apologize for something.”

Shit. He did want to apologize, but his mouth had been faster than his brain. He actually wasn’t prepared to apologize for that. He needed to…practice that one.

But handily, there was more than one thing he could stand to apologize for.

“Yeah?” She rolled over, and she was kind of hugging herself.

“You’re cold,” he said, and before she could protest, he grabbed a quilt he had folded at the foot of the bed and shook it out over both of them. He settled himself on his side, facing her but not touching her. “You remember when we had dinner in Bayshore?”

“I’m still full from it, I think.”

“You remember afterward, we were talking about the town grant? I offered to look at yours.”

She snorted.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, all condescending. I was trying to be nice. Anyway, I’m sorry. But you were right. If anything, when it comes to grants, it should be me asking you for help.”

Another snort. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going down, my friend.”

He laughed. He also didn’t miss that she’d called him “my friend.” “We’ll see about that. You have no idea how community-minded I’ve been lately while you’ve been in rehearsals.” She shook her head, but she was laughing. “What are you going to do with the money on the very off chance that you win?” He tried to make the question casual, but he really wanted to know how bad things were.

“Not have to close the theater.”

God. It still killed him to hear that she was seriously entertaining the idea of closing the theater. “That’s kind of vague.”

He thought she was going to take offense, but she surprised him by saying, “It is, isn’t it?” She squinted at him like she was trying to decide what to say. “I didn’t get a grant I’d been counting on last year.” She blew out a breath, as if that had been a hard admission—which he got. The rest came in a single, rapid-fire sentence. “I haven’t been paying myself and I was looking at having to default on the mortgage and lay off Richard and Marjorie this fall.”

Aww, shit. Well, there was his answer to how bad it was.

“Holden was supposed to be my Hail Mary,” she went on. “And he was. He is. If I sell out the rest of the run, which looks likely, I’ll avert immediate disaster. But if I win the grant, I can actually get ahead for once. My proposal is to use it to create some fundraising infrastructure—a consultant, direct mail and social media campaigns, that sort of thing. The idea—the hope—is that an initial influx of cash will help create a more sustained flow of income.”

“You have to have money to make money.”

“Exactly. Although I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

“Maybe because we just slept together and you’re feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable?” He was teasing, but not really.

She did one of her little eye rolls. “What about you, on the extremely slim chance that you win?”

“I found a location that I really want for the restaurant, but it’s for sale, not for rent. I’d budgeted several months’ rent into my plan, but not a down payment on a purchase. For that I’d need to mortgage the bar building.”

“Ah. The weight of family legacy.”

She saw the problem immediately—of course she did. “Yeah. I’ll still need a mortgage even if I win the grant, but it won’t have to be very big. It won’t mean losing the bar if the restaurant fails.”

“Does your dad own the bar building?”

“Nope. He passed it on to me. I just don’t want to…mess up what he made. What my grandpa made. I don’t want anyone to lose their jobs.” He chuckled. “Even Carter, who I’m perpetually on the verge of firing anyway.”

“And here I thought your main motivation with the grant was that you just didn’t want me to win it.”

“No, no.” He was pretty sure her idea was going to win out on its own merits. Which might not be the worst thing. He wanted to win, but he also didn’t want the theater to close.

“It’s interesting that we’re talking about this calmly and rationally instead of yelling at each other,”