Not Quite Over You

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u73ece547-4530-5663-a518-74c9d2c6258f)

LOVE AT FIRST sight was never a wise decision, but Silver Tesdal couldn’t help herself. Sure, the Airstream was a few years old, with a couple of exterior dents and a messed-up interior in need of complete refurbishing, but still, the lines, the space. It was everything she’d wished for. She would need a three-quarter-ton truck to tow it and more staff, but she could make that happen—at least in her dreams.

There was a second, smaller Airstream in even worse condition, but the twenty-three-foot length would be perfect for low-key affairs. She could already picture what the two would look like refurbished and sporting her AlcoHaul company logo.

She leaned back in her desk chair and smiled. Right now her “company” had exactly one full-time employee—her. She hired any staff she needed on a per-job basis. But, she thought longingly as she looked at the For Sale listings on her computer, with the Airstreams, all that would change. She would need someone to run each of the new trailers, which meant a second and third employee, and hey, the money to meet payroll.

But first she had to buy the trailers, fix them up, get a couple of trucks to tow them from venue to venue and make sure she had enough bookings to make it all worthwhile. She’d run the numbers and she could do it and still turn a profit... In time. As for making it all happen now, when the trailers were available, for that she needed a loan. And while she loved her some Airstreams, she was less excited about dealing with banks.

Silver shut down her browser and picked up the slim, black leather briefcase she’d bought for eight dollars at an estate sale a couple of years ago. She wasn’t the briefcase type, but since starting her business, she’d realized there were times she had to fit in with the conventional world. The briefcase helped her fool those who would otherwise judge.

She slipped in her wallet and her phone, then smoothed the front of her black pencil skirt before heading to the door to her loft. Today and today only, she’d traded in jeans and a tank top for a skirt, silk shell and cropped black blazer. She had applied conservative makeup and had pulled her long blond hair back into a French braid. Faux gold studs and black pumps with three-inch heels completed her transformation. She felt stupid, but knew appearances mattered. Dumb but true.

Ten minutes later, she pulled her truck into the parking lot of California First Savings and Loan. She had already been turned down by three other banks. If California First didn’t give her a loan, then she was screwed.

“Not screwed,” she murmured to herself. “If I don’t get the loan, I will go on as before. I’m doing great and whatever the outcome, I’m going to be completely and totally fine.”

Only she wanted the Airstreams. She wanted to grow her business and be more than anyone had assumed was possible. She was just a nobody from the wrong side of the tracks who had made a lot of stupid decisions along the way. Being able to expand her business meant proving to herself that she’d left all that behind. And yes, there might be a bit of neener-neener to those who had told her she would never amount to anything, but that was just a bonus.

She walked into the bank and headed directly to the executive offices. Her appointment was with Libby Saunders, the vice president in charge of commercial lending. Silver had met with her once before, when she’d applied for the loan, and today they were to discuss the outcome of the loan committee meeting. Despite Libby being the mother of one of Silver’s closest friends, the thirty minutes with Libby had been tense and awkward.

Libby couldn’t have made it more clear she disapproved of Silver, of her business and the viability of her business plan. Silver had been determined to defy the odds. She’d rerun the numbers, had lowered the amount she’d wanted to borrow and had instructed all her friends to pray, burn sage or sacrifice to create good karma.

She knocked once on Libby’s open office door. The older woman looked up from her computer.

Libby was in her fifties and nearly a caricature of what people assumed a woman in banking management should look like. She wore dark suits, pearls and always had her hair up in a tight bun. She looked disapproving, with a perpetual almost-frown knitting her eyebrows together. Silver tried to remember if she’d ever seen Libby smile and couldn’t. Not that she was around her that much, but on the surface, the banker was not a happy person.

“Silver,” she said, the corners of her mouth nearly but not quite lifting in a smile. “How nice of you to be on time.” She motioned to the chair opposite her desk.

“Libby.”

Silver sat down and did her best to look confident and professional. She set her briefcase where Libby could see it and be impressed.

The other woman barely glanced at her estate sale find. “You did an excellent job revising your business plan. The numbers look good.”

Silver allowed herself an internal fist bump, but kept her expression neutral.

“Having said that, I’m sorry to tell you that we won’t be giving you the loan. You were right on the edge of being approved, but given the nature of your business—with the potential for liability and lack of steady customers—the committee simply couldn’t come to an agreement.”

A committee of one, Silver thought, determined not to let her disappointment and bitterness show. Libby had been her last hope. Okay, not Libby but the bank. Silver had already been to every other one in town. There was no point in trying out of the area. Happily Inc was a quirky destination wedding town. Things here moved to their own rhythm. Explaining to a banker outside Happily Inc that she wanted to buy trailers to fix up to be traveling bars for weddings would make her sound like an idiot—despite her excellent business plan.

“I am sorry,” Libby added, her eyes bright with something that looked a whole lot more like satisfaction than regret.

She should have known, Silver told herself. There was no escaping her past—not in this town. Not with people like Libby around.

Silver knew the polite thing to do was to thank the other woman or offer to shake her hand or something socially acceptable. But she couldn’t do it. Instead, she nodded before standing and made her way out of the suddenly too-warm office.

She felt ridiculous in her business clothes, as if she were a child at Halloween. No one was fooled. She was who she had always been—wild Silver Tesdal, the woman who owned a bar and didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought of her.

She held on to her stupid briefcase as she crossed the lobby, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

“Silver?”

The voice came from behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was calling her name. She did her best not to hunch like a cat in the rain, even as she faked a smile.

“Drew. Fancy seeing you here.”

She didn’t express surprise at seeing him—Drew also worked at the bank. He was, in fact, heir apparent to the glory that was California First Savings and Loan. A fact that was no doubt thrilling to him, annoying to her and completely irrelevant when it came to her loan.

His dark gaze swept over her, taking in the skirt, the heels and the briefcase. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting an old friend.”

“You don’t have any friends here,” he told her.

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” More so now than ever.

Unfortunately, Drew wasn’t an idiot. He looked from her back to the executive offices.

“You had a meeting with Libby.”

“She is in charge of commercial loans.” She began walking toward the exit.

All she had to do was get in her truck, then get home. She would go for a four-mile run, take a shower, scream into a pillow, and then mask her disappointment with a bottle of red wine and a burger. Tomorrow she would be strong and determined, but tonight there would be wine.

“Your loan application for the Airstreams,” he said, as if putting the pieces together. “The loan committee isn’t supposed to meet until tomorrow.”

“They decided to meet early.”

She could see the glass door leading to the parking lot, could almost touch it. Freedom was just. So. Close.

He stepped between her and the door. “She turned you down.”