Page 102 of Your Last First Kiss

“She said you’re the new Remy. Jesus, Dillon. What’s gotten into you?” Lochlan mutters.

“More like who he’s gotten into,” Miller says under his breath. Penny gasps, and I react with a sharp jab of my fist to his bicep.

“Grow up, Miller.”

He turns around and drops his fist to my thigh, causing a charley horse to erupt in the muscle.

I bounce on one leg, trying to work out the tangle in my other thigh, and Miller stands opposite me, rubbing his bruised bicep. When our eyes meet, we burst into laughter.

“Is this what working with you every damn day will be like?” He laughs, but the question stirs something in my chest.

I shrug, remembering what growing up around Ashton’s family was like. I was always there, on the periphery. No matter how hard they tried to bring me into their circle, it was always just out of reach.

But this? This feels like my own version of the chaos that swirls around big families. Chaos, and love, and hope.

“Yeah,” I say with a hint of insecurity. “This is exactly what it’s going to be like. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.” My eyes roam from Miller to Penny and back again. “This is where I belong.”

Penny purses her lips to keep them from trembling, but Miller charges me like a bull and wraps me in a hug.

“Bloody fucket. I thought only the Westbrooks were huggers. Is there a worldwide hug initiative I’m not aware of?” Lochlan’s crusty tone lacks its usual tartness. Even he’s been sucked into the world of chosen family, demonstrative men, and the women who keep us in line.

“Here,” Eli says, tossing a packet my way. “This is what I could gather. Have Matt and Penny fill you in on every detail about every business owner. You need to know if they take out the trash on Tuesdays, when they have lunch with their girlfriend, and even when they take a shit. Trust me on this. Knowing them better than they know themselves is the only way you’ll get this passed on your deadline.”

I flip it open to a spreadsheet. Businesses, their owners, ages, and their families are all neatly color coded.

Penny crosses the space. I don’t have to look up to feel the air shift. I just know when she’s coming to me. I’m proven right a second later when the scent of peonies fills my nostrils.

She runs a slender finger down the column labeled: TAC Propositions.

“You’re going to offer them all space in the TAC.” It’s not a question. Her voice is soft and full of emotion as she reads our plans.

“Basically,” Eli explains. “It’s most similar to a franchising opportunity. The hotel will need a restaurant, so we’ll offer the kitchen to Heirlooms. The entire complex will need coffee, so we’ll split that up between the two weirdos dueling it out over coffee shop real estate on the square.”

“You even have Tanks on here. What can Kyle offer? He owns a gas station and a mechanics workshop. I can’t imagine there’s a huge need for those services,” Penny muses aloud.

“Not for the customers of TAC, but with the expansion, we’ll have a fleet of machinery that needs upkeep,” Miller says, taking ownership of this piece of the deal. I sit back with a sense of pride as he explains what we want to offer everyone in town. “We’re hoping to design the children’s play space within the TAC like a gas station or workshop. All the ball pits, trampolines, etc. can be done in a Tanks theme. We’ll also hire Kyle to run routine maintenance throughout the property.”

Lochlan watches me from across the room with an odd expression marring his face, but Penny speaks, and I’m drawn to her like a ship seeing the lighthouse after a long journey. I can’t help but drift toward her.

“And Chancy’s? Karma? Even Three Brothers Brewing? You have roles for all of them too?” There’s wonderment in her tone that heats my blood. I like making Penny proud.

“Yeah,” Miller says, practically salivating over the information like a six-year-old Saint Bernard. “Chancy’s will have retail space in the hotel lobby and the athletic complex. The Brothers can set up a bar in the hotel and a small tasting brewery in the TAC’s food court.”

He flips through the papers until he finds the one he’s searching for. “Paisley will have studio space where she can teach yoga, boxing, or whatever the hell she’s into at the time. The parents who come to these weeklong tournaments always look for things to do outside their child’s sport. We’re bringing it all to them within one complex.”

“How will you have space for all of this?” Penny asks, turning her questions on me.

I shrug. “We’re expanding, baby.”

Her eyes go wide. I’ve been so good about keeping us under wraps, and I go and blow it with one single word.

“Well, that answers that question,” Lochlan grumbles. Penny opens her mouth, but I’m not sure what she intends to say. Lochlan doesn’t give her a chance when he says, “It’s about damn time.” Getting to his feet, he smooths down his vest—which has no wrinkles—and opens a folder of his own. “That brings us to you, Penny.”

“Me? What about me?”

“You’ve been a particularly good assistant, Penny. You’ve saved me from myself more times than I can count, and at the Bryer-Blaine, we reward loyalty and service like yours.”

He’s so prim and formal, but Penny sways a little on her feet, so I wrap an arm around her waist to hold her steady against me.