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Chapter Twenty

Funny, but Casey's weight in Dev's lap, Casey's arm across his shoulders, Casey's warmth against his chest wasn't the least suggestive or sexual. Dev could read the intent behind Casey's actions as though Casey had announced each one: Here, I'm putting my arm around you to hold you up. I'm sitting down with you so we can face this together. I'm leaning against you so you're not alone.

As bleak as Dev's outlook was at the moment, a little bud of joy sprouted under his heart. He buried his face in Casey's neck and took a shuddering breath. Nash would never have offered unasked support like this, any more than Dev would have taken it. Their relationship had been one endless tug of war, a seesaw where one was always down so the other could be up. A zero-sum game in which there wasn't enough praise or admiration or space for both of them to be happy at once. And forget being vulnerable. That would have been the kiss of death.

With Casey, Dev could admit he needed help without worrying it would be kicked back in his face later as weakness, incompetence, inadequacy.

"Please tell me nothing's happened to Ty," Casey murmured, his breath ghosting against Dev's temple.

"Ty's fine. Everybody's fine." He pulled back so he could look up into Casey's eyes. "But Home…" He swallowed thickly. "Home is dead."

Casey's eyebrows bunched. "What do you mean, Home is dead?"

"I mean that we're broke. Bankrupt. Shit out of money."

"That can't be." Casey shifted on Dev's knee and scrabbled the stack of financial statements closer. "I saw the numbers. It'll be tight for a bit, but once the vendor registration fees roll in next week, and with the commissions after the antique fair, cash flow will ease up."

"That's what should have happened. But remember I told you up at the quarry that a vendor had dropped out?" Dev nudged the mouse, waking the monitor and displaying the three emails splashed across its screen. "Look at those."

Casey peered at the screen, squinting at the tiny font. He reached for the mouse, but for some reason, shuddered and just leaned closer. "Three more vendors leaving?" He huffed, clearly more annoyed than gutted. "The least they could do is give a reason."

"They don't have to. Until Friday, registrations can be canceled with no questions asked. They'll lose their deposit, but that's a minor amount. In fact, the registration fees aren't that big either because the real money comes from those commissions. It's always been that way. Vendors only have to pay a percentage of their sales after the fair, so if they have a bad day, they're not crippled by it."

Casey gazed at him with fond exasperation. "That is so on-brand for Home, but I've gotta say, completely out of step with modern business practices. Most events like this demand full payment upfront and it's the vendor's business to, well, drum up enough business to make a profit."

"I know. But it's our major draw. Vendors always called it the Fair Fair, because they know we only make money if they make money."

"Admirable, but that doesn't mean they get to leave us in the dark about their reasons this time. One cancellation is an anomaly. Two a coincidence. Three is a pattern, and four?" His lips thinned. "Four means something fishy is going on and unless we know why it's happening, we can't fix it."

That little bud unfurled another petal. He said we. Nevertheless… "This isn't your problem, Casey. You've got enough on your plate already, so you shouldn't let this worry you."

"Does it worry you?"

"Of course it does, which is why I have to deal with it. But this isn't the evening you signed on for."

"Newsflash, Dev." Casey framed Dev's face with his hands. "More sex would have been nice, and I'm not ruling it out in the future, but I'm not gonna whine and stamp my feet because you've got big problems hanging over your head."

"You'd be the first," Dev muttered, remembering Nash's meltdown tantrum when he'd announced he was leaving the band to take over his family's legacy. He hadn't even hugged Dev or offered him any comfort over Garlan and Grandfather's deaths, and he'd met both men.

"I know some people think sex is the reason for a relationship," Casey said, "but to me, it's more the result."

"Are you saying we're in a relationship?"

Casey mock-glared at him. "Everybody who isn't a complete stranger is in some kind of relationship with you. I mean, Bradley is in a relationship with me, but it's a really annoying one, built on his complete refusal to consider anyone's perspective but his own and my continuing efforts to make him go away. I hope that the relationship we're building—that we've already built—has a different profile and nobody gets to decide what it looks like except us." His lips quirked. "I mean, I've already gotten more action today than I've had in years. Make that ever. So I'm perfectly happy to let this unfold. To let us unfold." He gnawed on his lower lip, uncertainty flickering over his face. "That is, if you want to."

Dev leaned his forehead against Casey's and closed his eyes. "God. So much."

"Good." Dev didn't have to see Casey's face to know he was smiling. He could hear it in his voice.

"I wish I could tell you things will get better. But Home has been sliding for years now, even before my brother died. I may not be the best relationship bet."

Casey drew back enough to drop a kiss on Dev's forehead. "I'd say relationships are more give and take, but that implies that somebody is taking, which isn't always a positive thing. I prefer to think of it as share and share alike—good times and bad, successes and failures." He pointed at the screen. "Problems and solutions. So let's tackle this one, shall we?"

Dev gazed at Casey's determined expression and laughed helplessly. "This isn't something that's an easy fix. Maybe it would be better if you just left it to me."

Casey swiveled his gaze from the monitor and fixed it on Dev, eyes narrowing. "Now, I can imagine several reasons why you might say something like that." He held up his index finger. "One, you're executing the standard Dev Harrison maneuver of taking on all responsibilities, whether they're yours or not."

"I don't—"

"Two." He added his middle finger, which might or might not have been a statement. "You're afraid that if I see the scope of the problem, it might scare me away, which is a little arrogant on my part because that assumes that you want me to stick around."

"I do. But that doesn't mean—"

"Or three." He added his ring finger and waggled all three. "You don't think I can do it."

Dev blinked. "Uh…"

"Aha!" Casey nudged Dev's shoulder with all three fingers. "If we intend to make this relationship work, Devondre, you'll need to stop judging me by my kitchen ineptitude. I can do other things." He tapped the financial statements. "Remember?"

Dev bowed his head. "Please accept my abject apology."

"Oh, don't be abject. It doesn't suit you at all. But nevertheless, apology accepted. Thank you."

"All right." Dev snaked his arm around Casey's waist. "What's the plan?"

"The first step is to find out what's going on." Casey peered at the screen. "Good. This one has a phone number." He held out his palm and waggled his fingers. "Give me your phone. They're more likely to answer if the call isn't from a stranger."

Dev handed it over and Casey keyed in the number.

"Hello?" a woman's voice said tentatively.

"Hello, Leslie. My name is Casey Friel and I'm calling you on behalf of Antiques at Home."

"Oh." Leslie uttered a squawk of nervous laughter.

"You're on speaker with me and Dev Harrison." Casey kept his voice soothing and upbeat. "Since you've been a regular at our event for so long, we were hoping you could share your reasons for cancelling your booth this year. We sincerely hope nothing bad has happened to you or your business."

Her sigh was audible. "Oh, no. I'm so, so sorry. I feel really bad about pulling out at the last minute, but the fellow at Green Mountain Shadows made the offer too tempting to refuse."

"Green Mountain Shadows?" Casey shared a glance with Dev. "The resort in Merrilton?"

"Yes. Because it's a new thing this year, and a decision they made so last minute, they offered us a free spot at their fair both this year and next year. The Fair Fair—I mean, Antiques at Home—has always been good to us, and its rates are completely reasonable, but, you know, they're not free. Plus, the foot traffic in Home has decreased over the last couple of fairs. The resort's new event offers more potential traffic and an annual event rather than biennial. I couldn't afford not to take the offer."

Dev's grip tightened around Casey's waist, the only thing that was keeping him from drowning in what the ever-loving fuck. Casey patted his hand. "We understand. Thank you so much for sharing with us, and I hope the event is successful for you."

"You're being super gracious. I truly appreciate it. And if the resort's event isn't what they promise, I hope you know I'll be the first to sign up for your next fair. Thank you so much."

Casey disconnected the call and set Dev's phone down with what seemed deliberate gentleness. "Did you have any idea that the resort was planning a rival event?"

"No. And it's not like we're competitors. Home doesn't even have an inn anymore. The concierge recommended our fair to guests looking for activities in the area."

Casey hmmmed softly. "I suppose they might have decided a competing event was a way to capitalize on their in-house revenue, but if they're offering vendors spots for free, that doesn't really track. Unless they're counting on higher occupancy to compensate."

The computer pinged with an incoming email. Dev dropped his head against the chair back. "Don't tell me. More vendors dropping out?"

Casey leaned toward the screen. "Wish I could say it wasn't, but I'm guessing we can count on everyone dropping out. Leslie was right. Margins for antique dealers aren't so great that they can turn down a chance to increase them like this."

"Fuck, Casey. We've already lost the Inn and the dance studio. Without the fair, without the tourists it brings to town, the other local businesses'll feel the pinch—Kat, Kenny, the Knit Shop, Curiosity, Mountain Laurel, Artists United, hell, even the historical society. This could gut them." He clutched his hair. "And what the hell am I going to do with all those Port-a-Potties?"

Casey gently freed Dev's fingers from his death grip on his hair. "Don't worry about the Port-a-Potties. I bet I can work something out with the rental agency. If nothing else, the resort will need them for their event."

Dev rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I might have to sell to your fucking fiancé after all."

"If you mean Bradley"—Casey poked Dev's shoulder again—"first of all, not my fiancé. Second, what do you mean sell to him? Sell what?"

"He offered to buy Harrison House."

Casey stared at him for a good ten seconds, apparently speechless.

"Casey?"

"No. Just no."

"Of course not. I'd never sell—"

"That's not what I mean. I know you'd never sell Harrison House. When was he here? And why didn't you tell me?"

"He, um, came back. A couple of days after he showed up in the summer kitchen."

Casey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. First rule of relationships? No hiding stuff like this."

"To be fair, we didn't exactly have a relationship at the time."

"Remember what I said? Everything is a relationship. It's simply a question about quality. Now, I know we've both got a lot to think about, but I believe you invited me back to your place tonight?"

"I did. I'm not sure I'm up for—"

Casey laid a finger across Dev's lips. "Shush. I'm not going to importune you for sex. But you've had a blow tonight. If it's okay with you, could I just sleep with you? Hold you?"

"You don't have to do that."

"That wasn't the question, Dev."

Dev closed his eyes, took a breath, let it out slowly. Remember. It's okay to let Casey know you need help. "Yes. I would like that very much."

Casey nodded decisively. "Good." He grinned. "Although I confess I might have an ulterior motive for avoiding my own bed." He wrinkled his nose. "Randolph Scott left a dead mouse on each of my pillows."

Def lifted an eyebrow. "He left you two dead mice?"

"And a tail."

The other eyebrow joined the first and Dev whistled. "Damn. He must really like you."

Casey traced Dev's lower lip with a fingertip. "As long as you like me, that's what matters."

"I do." Dev kissed Casey's fingers. "Now let's go to bed. Because you're right. I really want to be held tonight."

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