That evening, after everything wound down and the last of the steady flow of customers had waved on their way out the door, Ashley and Ty finally got some alone time.
“Well,” she said, carrying their drinks around from the kitchen nook and making a beeline for the sofa. “That was quite a day.”
“You can say that again. Here. Let me get those.” He snagged his beer and her wine—she would’ve been channeling Shelby with a sedate white in a normal glass, if it hadn’t been for the perky pink umbrella—and set them on the coffee table. “I still think your window should’ve won.” He tugged her down, tumbling her onto his lap and drawing her in for a kiss.
“I agree, but still . . . Brownies.” Because, really, chocolate was going to beat most anything nine times out of ten. Even a really good cause and prominent spots on the afternoon and evening newscasts.
“You sure you won’t let me lend you the money?”
“Positive. Wyatt and I are going to draw up the paperwork this week. Collateral, interest, and everything.”
“Collateral?”
“Bugsy.” She grinned. “I’m going to be tempted to default, just to make my big, bad brother drive him out of town. The pictures would almost be worth it.” She wouldn’t, though. Snuggling into him, she added, “It’s crazy. When I started this, I swore I would lose the shop before I asked him for money. Now it’s no big deal.”
“Actually, I’d say it’s a very big deal.” As Tunes jumped up on the coffee table to investigate, Ty reached forward, snagged his beer, and handed over her wine. “A toast. To making your second payment.”
“Amen.” They clinked, sipped, and kissed, and her heart turned over in her chest before settling back into the happy rhythm it had been bebopping ever since the parade. It was hard to believe how much things had changed in just a few hours. Then again, look at the past couple of months. The past two years.
A work in progress, maybe, but she sure liked the direction she was heading, and she loved the man who was going to be beside her for the next chunk of it, hopefully all the way to the end. It was early yet to think about things like for as long as you both shall live. But all of a sudden it didn’t feel so far off, either.
She smiled into her wine as Tunes jumped up on the couch and pointy-footed his way over the two humans, giving suspicious sniffs at their drinks and wrinkling his whiskers in feline disgust. “And just look at you,” she said to the cat. “You’ve come a long way.” They all had.
“We should celebrate,” Ty decided.
“A party for Tunes?”
He ruffled the cat’s fur, got a sneer and a head butt in return. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Actually, I was talking about when you hand over the check.”
She wasn’t sure which part of that warmed her right down to her toes—that he wasn’t going to let her wallow in falling short of her goal when she had a workable backup plan, that he was thinking about her stuff as well as his own, or that he wanted to make a plan. All of it, really. Angling her face, she gave him a smacking kiss on the jaw. “Look at you, thinking ahead!”
His expression went wry. “Funny. You want to talk about the future? Fine, how about a vacation? I’ve always thought about heading south for a couple of weeks during the worst of the winter, but never did it. I think we should make a plan. Nashville, maybe, or New Orleans. Good music. Or Hawaii. Or is there someplace you’ve always wanted to go?”
“I . . . Hmm.”
“Is that a No, I don’t want to go someplace warm and awesome in the dead of winter? I know you’ll be busy with the store over the holidays, so I was thinking maybe February.”
More warm tingles. “Oh, definitely yes to the vacation part. It’s just that nobody’s ever asked me where I want to go on vacation before.” Jack had taken her and her mom on a couple of cruises, and Kenny and the band had liked to party in San Fran, but that was about it. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. Though Mardi Gras is on my bucket list . . .” She thought it would be like her brain—loud and chaotic, with lots of bright colors.
“No rush. But how about the party?”
“Definitely,” she assured him. “I want to repaint the sign, do a big reveal, and christen the shop’s new name with a champagne toast. I’m even going to invite Mom and Jack.” Her mother would love Ty, God help her.
His eyebrows rose. “You’re changing the shop’s name?”
“I am.” It was the first time she had said it out loud. Before, it had been all about the paperwork, legalities, and figuring out what script to use. Now, it was time for the shimmies of excitement. “Just a little—to Ashley’s Another Fyne Thing.”
Expression warming with approval, he said, “I think that sounds just about perfect to me.”
“Good, because I was going to ask if you wanted to keep me company while I did the stealth painting Thursday night.”
“Count me in,” he said easily. “I’ll take care of dinner.”
And it really was that easy, she realized. It might not always be—probably wouldn’t be—but for now, she would let herself enjoy being in love and being loved.
“Speaking of dinner,” she began, then broke off when her cell phone rang its generic no-caller-ID melody. “Hang on. Hold that thought.” She hit the button to connect. “Hello?”
There was a startled-feeling pause, and then a woman’s voice said, “Um, hello. I don’t know if I have the right— Is Tyler Reed there? This is . . . this is his sister.”
Hot-cold-hot poured through Ashley and she was pretty sure her heart skipped a couple of beats. “You’re . . .” She couldn’t get it out, was almost afraid to hope for him. Had her crazy plan actually worked?
“His sister. Um . . . I called the number on the TV, and the lady asked me a bunch of questions, then gave me this number.” Her voice softened, took on new nerves. “Is he there?”
“Yes.” Ashley got the word out, aware of Ty’s sudden scrutiny, the tension in his big body that said whatever was upsetting her all of a sudden, he would deal with it.
Or, rather, they would deal with it together.
Hand shaking slightly, she held out the phone. “It’s for you. It’s Scilla.”
His face blanked, then drained of blood, his skin going suddenly gray with shock. “You’re kidding.”
She put the phone in his hand. “The station gave her my number.” Which meant she had answered the verification questions correctly. Which meant . . .
He lifted the handset, eyes stark on Ashley’s. “Hel—” His voice broke on it. Clearing his throat, he said, louder, “Hello? This is Ty.” Ashley didn’t hear the reply, but his face blossomed suddenly with exquisite joy, as if he had been trapped alone with nothing but broccoli to eat and a bikini model suddenly showed up bearing chocolate. “Scilla.” He blinked back moisture. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
Choking up, Ashley rose, figuring she would give him some privacy and give herself a good sniffle in the process. But as she moved past Ty, he shot out a hand, caught her arm, and tugged her back down beside him. He angled the phone so she could hear a soft sob, then Scilla saying, “I didn’t think I was ever going to find you.”
He tightened his arm around Ashley and breathed into her hair, and his voice was husky when he said, “It’s all good now, darlin’. Because we finally found each other.”