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“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, gazing into my eyes.
“Hi, handsome. I wasn’t done.” I pulled his head to mine and kissed him some more, loving the weight of his lower body pressing into mine.
He pulled his head back before I was remotely close to done kissing him.
“Get back here,” I said, hardly recognizing my own lust-filled voice.
“In a minute.” He rolled to the side, lodging himself between me and the back of the too-small sofa, his arm around my middle. “I don’t want you to give up Stream for me. I could never ask you to do that.”
“Um, you didn’t,” I said in a Captain Obvious voice.
“It’s your dream, Ava.”
I ran my fingers over his rough jaw. “It was. My dream changed though.”
“You’re just going to be an innkeeper?” The look on his face was scandalized, and it made me laugh.
“I’m going to be an innkeeper and a writer. But mostly a writer, which I can do because I have Anna.” I told him about Knox’s email and his off-hand remark about co-writing. “I don’t know if he was serious, but we could combine our genres and collaborate on something like sci-fi romance, which happens to be big right now. And if he isn’t interested—”
“He’d be an idiot.”
I laughed again. “Then I’ll write solo, same as I always have, but I’ll do novels instead of screenplays. Or I could still do screenplays if my agent ever talks to me again. The only thing I won’t be able to do is work in a studio, and I’m okay with that. As long as I’m with you.”
“But your baseball series…”
“Is still being done. Just without me in the writing room.”
“That’s a giant sacrifice.”
I met his gaze head on to make sure he wouldhearwhat I said. Really hear me. “It doesn’t feel like a sacrifice to me. Not at all. Not with everything I’m getting.”
Those hazel eyes peered down at me, seemed to see inside of me, and slowly, the smile I loved crept across his face.
He was starting to lean in when his phone rang and a puzzled expression overtook his smile. Rolling his weight off me, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and said, “It’s late back home. It’s Seth.”
With an apologetic look, he swiped to answer, and I sat up, concerned.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry to bother you.” I could hear Seth’s voice over the connection. “Nothing’s wrong and I know you’rebusy”—he drew out that word and even I could hear the teasing in his voice—“but you need to know tonight—”
“Know what?” Cash interrupted, his impatience tangible.
“We made it. We got the show,” Seth said and then let out a howl that sounded as if he was in the room with us even though he wasn’t on speaker. “They posted a few minutes ago.”
Cash jumped off the couch. “What? You better not be fucking with me.”
With a joyful gasp, I sat up, got my phone out, opened the social media app, and searched forSmall Town Smorgasbord. There it was, at the top of their posts.
“Oh, my god, Cash!” I squealed. “He’s not kidding!”
Seth was still talking in his ear but I couldn’t hear him anymore, didn’t need to hear him. Cash took my hand and pulled me off the couch. I read the post to him.
“Join us in congratulating Chef Cash Henry and Henry’s Restaurant in Dragonfly Lake, Tennessee! We’ve added them to our esteemed list forSmall Town Smorgasbord’sspring season.”
Cash threw his head back and let out a cackle. “Yes! Fuck yes! We did it!” He pulled the phone back to his ear. “We fucking did it, Seth.”
Seth said something back, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore, just waiting for Cash to end the call so I could jump on him.
