Page 102 of Hope After Loss

Good morning, beautiful.

You looked so peaceful, sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you. I headed into town to set up our space. When you are ready, you can Uber over to Pack Square Park and look for our banner. It should be on the left, a short walk from the stage. Please take your time and order breakfast from room service, and I’ll see you soon.

XOXO,

Weston

I bring the scribbled note to my chest and take a relieved breath. Then, I grab my phone, schedule the ride, and hop into the shower.

I shouldn’t have worried that things would be awkward today. We were so busy from the time I found the tent until well after the festival was supposed to wind down. We barely had time to say boo to each other, much less fret over the status of our changing relationship. Although he did take the opportunity to brush against me as much as he could throughout the day.

Thousands of people came through the park, and at least half of them stopped to try our samples and use the tablet I’d brought to sign up to receive our newsletter for a chance to win a gift basket, featuring full-sized packages of our entire product line and a gift certificate for a four-night stay at the Blackbird Motel in Balsam Ridge.

When we climb into Weston’s truck, we are both sweaty, starving, and exhausted. And this is just day one of the three-day event.

We decide against sitting down at a restaurant and instead grab street tacos to take back to the inn. As soon as we walk in, Weston cranks the air-conditioning up, and I spread a towel on his bed and eat.

“These are the best tacos I’ve ever eaten,” I say.

He chuckles. “I didn’t do a good job at feeding you today. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Like you had a choice. I had no idea our tent would be so popular. I mean, I expected we’d draw a good number of people, but that was bananas,” I say.

“It was all your fault,” he says.

I wrinkle my nose. “My fault?”

“Yep. Every male with a pulse who passed our table wanted to stop and talk to you.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the sweaty girl with her hair in a topknot and no makeup on really revved their engines.”

“You think I’m teasing, but I’m not.”

I shake my head.

Once we’ve finished eating, he peels his tee over his head.

“I’m jumping in the shower,” he says.

I stand and gather our trash. “Yeah, me too.”

I toss the wrappers in the trash can under the desk in his room and open the connecting door.

I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, grab a sleep shirt from my bag, and pull my hair loose. I brush my teeth as the water heats up, and then I undress and step under the hot spray.

I reach to adjust the showerhead and turn around. The pressure of the water hitting my back feels so damn good. The blackberry-and-cream shampoo the inn provides from its spa collection smells like heaven. I squirt a generous amount into my hand and massage it into my scalp.

I lean my head back to rinse when the foggy glass door opens and Weston steps in behind me. I yelp in surprise when I feel his hands run down my soapy sides.

“Hi,” he says, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.

I relax against him.

“Hi,” I gasp.

“You looked awfully tired. I thought you might need a hand,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder. “Is that right?”