Page 118 of The Havenport Collection

Also, if I wasn’t already convinced that I had no shot with Callum Quinn, this confirmed it. I figured his type would be the leggy business-Barbie type, not the petite, wild-haired variety. I didn’t own pantyhose and hadn’t had a manicure in a decade.

As much as I enjoyed having my suspicions confirmed, I felt a fizzle of disappointment in my stomach.

I knew back in high school I wasn’t his type, and nothing had changed.

It didn’t change the fact that he was a good friend who was doing me a solid by coaching my kids’ soccer team.

He really was incredibly kind and helpful. I could use more friends like that.

“Are you going to go to the wedding?” I asked, fascinated.

“Fuck no,” he shouted. He looked embarrassed. “Sorry. But no, there is no way I would go.”

I twirled an errant piece of hair around my finger, as my brain moved at warp speed.

“I think you should go.”

He sputtered, “What?”

“Hear me out. They sent you that invitation to be assholes, and they do not expect you to go. If anything, they are just rubbing it in your face. So rather than decline and slink away in shame, show the fuck up.”

He seemed completely bewildered by my suggestion. “I teach my boys to stand up to bullies. You call them out on their shit, and they’ll back right down. So show up, have a great time, laugh and smile, and toast the happy couple. And walk out with your head held high that you are the better person.”

“You are cute when you’re being vindictive, you know that?” His eyes were twinkling mischievously, and I saw a flash of high school Callum—still a straightlaced good guy but with a bit of a wild side.

“I understand the urge to go full ostrich and stick your head in the sand. But if this wedding is messing with your head so badly, then some good old-fashioned exposure therapy is what is needed. You can go to this wedding, see what superficial demons they are and how they will torture each other forever, and then walk away feeling great.”

“I like how you think.” If he only knew all the things I had been thinking about recently, he might say otherwise.

“What better way to get over her than show up to her wedding. You say he’s a douchebag, so they deserve each other. That way you are able to fully move on.”

“Your logic is twisted, but it’s starting to make sense.”

“I’m very persuasive,” I smirked.

“Do you want to go with me?” he asked, grabbing my hand and sending shock waves through my body.

I was temporarily disoriented. “Me?”

“As my friend. Come with me. It’s at the Grand Bostonian hotel, so it’s super fancy and will probably be ridiculous and over the top. I need a friend there to help me have fun and loosen up, and you would be perfect. You could have fun at a murder trial.”

“Hey, not necessarily. I’m not some magical fun fairy.”

“You kind of are, at least for me.” He got bashful then and lowered his voice. “You’re positive and upbeat and a lot of fun to be around. And if I’m going to man up and show my face, I’d love to have a beautiful woman on my arm.”

“Oh, stop.” I swatted at him, still holding his hand. “I am not the fancy city-hotel wedding type.”

“I see you as more the barefoot flower-crown type.”

I laughed. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yes. But you’re also a little bit magic too.” He winked and I was done for. My lady bits were throbbing, screaming at me to say yes, just so I could experience one night on this man’s arm.

“Okay, fine. I’ll be your friend date. But I reserve the right to get drunk and talk shit about the bride and groom.”

“That’s a requirement.”

“And you have to dance with me. I love to dance.”

“Done. My mother made sure my brothers and I know how to dance.” That was attractive.

I wanted to make a crack about how I would have known that in high school had he not stood me up for the homecoming dance, but I bit my tongue.

We were friends now; it wasn’t worth bringing up the past. And the more time I spent with Callum, the less I cared about what happened in high school.

We were adults and we were friends, and he was so much more than I ever could have expected.

“Okay. Then you’ve got yourself a date.”

He wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head, instantly releasing me. It felt good, too good, so I scooted a bit farther away from him in my chair.

He seemed to realize it as he abruptly changed subjects. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on and why you are so stressed about the farm? I just spilled my guts about my ex-wife to you.”

I sighed and pushed the hair out of my face. The fire was warm, but every time he pinned me with that steely gray gaze, a shiver ran down my spine.

“I’m struggling a bit with the farm. Things are not going so great.”

“How? I know it’s been busy all summer.”

“It has, but when my dad died, things were not in a good place. We have loans and debts and all kinds of deferred maintenance to catch up on. And I’m just feeling overwhelmed by it all.”

He nodded quietly.

“And there is a lot of pressure to sell. And I can’t. I can’t do that to my dad or my grandparents. Or the town. This is the last working farm in Havenport, and we’re an important part of its history.”

“You guys mean so much to the community.”

“But I’ve been here a year and still haven’t figured everything out.”

“Did you fire your accountant?”

“Yes. I finally did it and it felt great. But…” I trailed off, feeling embarrassed.

“What?”

“Well, I need to get a new accountant, but I also need to get all my files from Nick and figure out what the hell has been going on for the past few years.” I felt pathetic. I hated admitting out loud that there was still so much I didn't understand about this business.

“Violet, you need some help. It’s okay. I get it. There are a lot of moving parts here. You just need a plan. I can help. This is what I do.”

I nodded. I knew deep down he was right.

“What about Rose?” he asked.

“She owns the stables and the land outright. She inherited that half of the property, and I got the other half. She is killing it. Her riding school has a yearlong waitlist, and the boarding facilities are fully booked.”

“But I’m sure it didn’t happen immediately.”

“No. But she started building her business a decade ago. She had time to get things right and scale up slowly. I inherited a fourth-generation farm deeply in debt. Farming is not profitable. No one gets rich off it. I am working on expanding as much as I can, but we need more.”

He sat up and eyed me sharply, clearly shifting into business mode. “So tell me about what you’ve been working on.”

“I’ve been focused on setting up more local direct distribution deals. Instead of selling to the produce wholesalers, I want to establish partnerships with local restaurants for the full farm-to-table experience. It also removes the middleman and helps streamline things.”

“Okay. What about a brewery? Liam’s brewery uses a ton of hops, fruits, and herbs. I assume you can grow most of that stuff here?”

I nodded.

“So you could partner with him and other brewers or distillers for a farm-to-glass type arrangement.”

I was getting excited. Callum was proving to be so much more than a buttoned-up money guy. “That sounds so cool. Would he be interested?”

“I can set up a meeting and see. He tries to keep his operation as local as possible.”

I beamed at him. Even in the dark he could probably see my smile. Hell, they could probably see it from the International Space Station I was so happy. We were talking business, and he was complimenting my ideas and adding some of his own. I was in heaven.

“Actually,” he mused, “you need my sisters-in-law.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“They are not officially my sisters-in-law yet. But Cecelia, Liam’s fiancée, is a marketing expert who totally turned his brewery around.

And Astrid is a corporate lawyer who is a straight-up shark.

She has been helping us with negotiating some contracts, and she can work out whatever legal stuff you need.

” He was talking faster and clearly enjoying helping me strategize.

It was fun to experience this side of him.

“I can’t do that. I can’t take advantage of your family connections.”

“I insist. Plus they wouldn’t be doing it for me—they hate helping me—but the Thompson Farm is a beloved Havenport institution and an important part of our history.”

“I can’t accept all this help from you.”

“Why not? We’re friends. And you are helping me face my fears about this wedding. I’ve spent the last few months in a professional rut. Please let me help, and at the very least, let me recruit Cecelia and Astrid. They are frighteningly competent.”

I felt both relieved and terrified. I hated showing people just how much of a mess I was. I didn’t doubt Cece and Astrid could help—they sounded amazing. But I cringed at just how unamazing I felt at the moment.

“How can I thank you?” I asked softly, secretly hoping we could work out some sort of sexual favor arrangement.

He smirked, as if reading my dirty thoughts. “No thanks necessary. You are my friend. And you will be my date to this shitshow wedding.”

I smiled and settled back into my chair, feeling a lot better. I was going to figure things out and get the farm on track. I had to. And Callum was fast becoming a wonderful friend.

He would be coaching soccer for the boys, I was going to be his date to his ex’s wedding, and now he was going to enlist his family to help me with the farm. Our lives were becoming entangled. Was it too much to hope our bodies could also become entangled at some point?