“Okay, you made your point,” Grady says when my attention returns to him. “I overreacted.” He slips his hands around me. “Sorry.”

“Well, maybe don’t be at Wade’s beck and call next time. I can handle myself.”

“Don’t I know it?” He leans into me, lips coiled coyly. “Congratulations, Captain.”

After a tongue-laced kiss, I relax against him. “Well, thanks, and it’s not such a bad thing, your surprise visit. Jealous rage is sexy on you.”

He laughs. “You’re sexy on me. Have I told you lately how proud of you I am?”

“Um, no, actually.” I tap my chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”

He nuzzles my nose with his, leaning closer. “I’m so incredibly proud of you. You are the baddest badass I know. I fucking love sailing the high seas with you.”

Laughter fills the small space between us. “Oh, my. I can’t wait for home.”

He slaps my ass and gives me another short kiss. “Me, neither. Don’t be late.”

Then, he leaves me for the poor beagle needing his attention.

The Extravaganza goes off without a hitch, well, except for the long lines and parking—we had to think on our feet to alleviate those issues. We invited extra vendors to set up their wares outside, creating a farmer’s market. Peter sold four rocking chairs and got two orders from customers wanting a “door porch” for their backyards. Marigold sold six swamp landscapes and dozens of handmade cards and postcards—she’s embraced the swamp theme. We sold out of hot dogs twice, leaving us scrambling to get more from our distributors—a good problem to have. The G&G profited more in one weekend than Wade’s entire last year.

And, with a promise to continue the farmer’s market on weekends and all of our extra amenities for traveling families a huge hit, we expect our numbers to keep rising all summer. Suck it, Sunny’s.

We end the weekend’s events with fireworks Sunday night. Locals come out in droves carrying picnic blankets and lawn chairs. The lot is full, and the store is busy.

Grady finds me, wrapping his arms around my waist as the professionals I’ve hired ready their display. I lean into him, tired but exhilarated. “You’re chilly,” he says, rubbing my arms. “Want me to grab you a hoodie from The Beast?”

I almost say yes. But looking around at the full, happy crowd, and seeing everyone doing such a great job at handling the event, I’m overrun with deep satisfaction. My work here is done. I don’t want the hoodie. I want to go home.

So, I twist in his arms, catching the soft blue of his eyes in the twinkle lights overhead. “Let’s sneak out of here, okay?”

“Definitely.” He takes my hand, pulling me gently through the masses and behind the building. We climb into The Beast and go home.