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I let out a soft whistle. “So all those words were Danish things? And we have four weeks to plan a month’s worth of events?”
“Ex-act-ly.” He draws the word out for at least a quarter mile.
“Is she crazy?” My voice has risen an octave above his.
“The short answer is yes,” he huffs. “The long answer is yes, but… we stand to make a lot of money on this.”
And now my interest is piqued. “I’m listening.”
“We get a percentage of every tourist dollar that comes in. People pay to go to the events we plan, and we get a cut. Vendors pay to be part of the Christmas market, and we get a cut. Every business we convince to buy spots in Yulefest advertising, we get a commission.” Carson has gone Leo DiCaprio inWolf of Wall Streeton me.
Not that I’ve ever seen that movie, I just imagine that’s who he’s channeling right now.
And I like it—because of the whole bad boy thing—even though Carson’s not my type, and I’m definitely not his. But the thought of bad boys has brought one particular Paradise resident to mind, even though I’ve tried my hardest not to think about a certain Sebastian Sparks.
“I like the money part of this idea, but is it actually doable? In four weeks?” I hope it is because the whole thing sounds kind of magical. But also exhausting.
“If anyone can make it happen, Hope, it’s us.” Carson has switched to coach-mode now. He’s Coach Taylor, and I’m Tim Riggins.
Or Tim Riggins’s girlfriend. Because, mmm, Tim Riggins. Yum.
And thinking about that dark haired, brown-eyed beefcake brings my thoughts back to the man I don’t want to think about, even though every mile brings me closer to facing him again.
There’s no way I’ll be able to avoid Seb, even if I didn’t owe him both a big thank you for making this temporary move possible for Charly and me and a big apology for not being honest with him about Charly.
“You’ve spreadsheeted the heck out of Evie and Georgia’s double wedding, down to the smallest detail,” Carson continues, and I redirect my thoughts fromFriday Night Lightsand Seb to the wedding details. “You’ve haggled with florists and caterers and even the dress designers. And you’ve done it all from a thousand miles away.”
“I’m still waiting for the florist to confirm she can get canna lilies in December. She’s giving me the runaround.” I could list a hundred other tiny details I’m worried about, but that’s the biggest one.
“But you will!”
“You’re right! I will!”Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose!I’ve been completely Coach-Taylored, and I’m ready to take the field. Who cares if I’m totally inexperienced and have to create all the plans for a new playbook?
“And we will plan the jingle bells out of this Yulefest!” Carson yells.
“Yes, we will!” I shout back.
Charly lets out a yelp of surprise and blinks her sleepy eyes.
“Sorry, baby,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”
Her eyes slowly close and her head tips to the side.
“We’ve got this!” I say, but this time in a whisper.
“Yes, we do,” Carson whispers back. “But first, you’ve got to get here.”
“But first I’ve got to get there.” I nod and glance at the green highway sign to the side of the road.
I still have a couple hundred miles to Denver, and then another five hundred tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of road ahead of me, but Charly’s got a lot ofBlueyto keep her entertained while I think about how to make Yulefest a success.
“Send me the list of activities for Yulefest. I’ll brainstorm tonight and call you tomorrow when I’m on the road again,” I say to Carson before ending the call.
Then I pull up my motivation playlist and scroll toWe are the Champions.I blast it loud enough to keep my adrenaline flowing, but soft enough for Charly to stay asleep.
For the first time since she was born, I feel like I might be able to achieve the dreams I put aside when I decided to keep her. I don’t want to get too excited, but what if this works?
What if this goes as well as Evie and Carson expect it to? What if I catch the break of a lifetime? What if I can be independent and give Charly the life I want her to have?
