Chapter Twenty-Four

Three weeks ago, on possibly the worst day of his life, Dev would never have imagined things could turn around so quickly. Home Grown Tastes and Tunes was coming together so seamlessly, he wondered why they'd never thought of it before.

Of course, he hadn't thought of it now, had he? That had been Casey. All Casey. Casey, who now spent his nights in Dev's bed, although with their crazy out-of-sync schedules—Casey dashing from before dawn and Dev working his contacts well past midnight—when they were actually both between the sheets and awake at the same time, they were usually too exhausted to do more than kiss.

Whistling, he strolled out the front door of his cottage a little before noon. His good mood probably had as much to do with setting his alarm this morning so he could ambush Casey with a morning blowjob before he could rush out the door as it did with the way the whole town was rallying behind the event.

Casey had put Pete in charge of logistics—sourcing the generators to run power for the stage and all the food stands, making sure there was enough parking, planning the layout of the food stands and food trucks—and Pete had stepped up with nothing more than a tip of his ball cap.

With the help of kids from the woodshop class he taught at the regional high school, Kenny had designed and built three dozen modular vendor stands that could be broken down and stored. "For next year's festival," he'd told Dev with a wink.

The artists at the co-op—who were usually more Artists Contentious than Artist United—had, with cajoling from Casey, designed the festival logo and graphics and produced all the signage.

And after fifteen years of animosity, Kat and Sylvia were suddenly best friends, either chatting over lattes at the Market or huddled together in the summer kitchen, sampling offerings from the food vendors who were clamoring for a spot.

Casey had been right. Home—its charm, its setting, its accepting community—had been exactly the draw that he'd promised Dev they'd be. And Casey had managed it all, including guilting Green Mountain Shadows' manager into funding a massive cross-promotion campaign that was so successful in terms of resort occupancy that now she was more enthusiastic than Casey, even though she'd had to foot the bill.

Dev himself had been surprised and gratified that so many of the local musicians had remembered him and been happy to appear for the modest fee they were offering. He had enough acts now that he could finalize the roster tomorrow and add it to Casey's marketing push.

When he slipped into the summer kitchen, Casey was leaning with his elbows propped on Peach's counter, his hair flopping over his forehead as he gazed at Sylvia, who was shaking her head. Anyone unaware of Casey's unexpected steely core might mistake that wide-eyed look for pleading, but Dev knew better by now.

Casey, determined to get his way, was about to move in for the kill.

Dev took a moment to admire the way Casey's shorts hugged the curve of his ass before keying in to their conversation.

"Please? Come on, Sylvia, it'd be great PR for Summer Kitchen."

"This festival isn't about promoting myself, Casey." She crossed her arms. "Can you imagine what Kat would say if I suddenly made it all about me?"

"But it's not, don't you see? More students at Summer Kitchen—and by the way, why not Fall and Spring Kitchen too?—means more people staying in Home. More people shopping at the Market. More people stopping in at Mountain Laurel or Artists United or Curiosity. It's been literally two decades since anybody outside the school has tasted your food."

"Kat has. So has Ty."

"They don't count." Casey caught sight of Dev hovering in the doorway and his smile bloomed. "Dev!" He pushed himself off the counter and hurried over, although the kiss he pressed to Dev's mouth was anything but quick. "Come here and help me convince this stubborn woman that she needs to have a spot at the festival, too."

Dev slung his arm over Casey's shoulder. "You need to have a spot at the festival, too."

Casey nudged him with an elbow. "Maybe make a little more effort? Just repeating what I say isn't the best argument."

Dev chuckled and dropped a kiss on Casey's curls. "You forget, Sylvia. I've eaten your food too. Just recently, remember? That picnic basket you put together for us was—" He brought his fingers to his mouth in a chef's kiss. "Well, let's just say perfection is an understatement."

"That's it!" Casey bounced under Dev's arm. "Picnic baskets!" He looked up at Dev. "Where did you get that basket?"

"There's an artist who works out of Simple Gifts, the Shaker immersion place across the Massachusetts border, near Devon. In fact, I think Kat buys a lot of produce from their farm." He glanced at Sylvia. "What's the owner's name?"

"Tim, the Vegetable Guy," Sylvia said. "He's already booked a stand for the festival, as have some of the other artisans who work there. The gingham cover and napkins in your basket? Those were handwoven at their weaving studio."

Casey's eyes widened. "That cloth was handwoven? And I let Randolph Scott sit on it?"

Sylvia chuckled. "The folks at Simple Gifts pride themselves on practicality, just like the Shakers did. If the cloth can't stand up to one little cat—"

"Bite your tongue," Casey said in mock outrage. "Randolph Scott would be mortified to hear you call him little."

Dev reeled Casey back in. "Don't worry. The cloth will survive, as will Randolph Scott."

Casey gave him the side-eye. "If you say so. But never mind. What if we partnered with the artisans and offered premium picnic baskets? People could eat out on the lawn in front of the stage while they watch the performances. They'd enjoy your delicious food, Sylvia, and go away with an outstanding memento of the day."

"But what if nobody wants them?" Sylvia fidgeted with her tea mug, rotating it in precise quarter turns, and didn't meet their eyes. "As lovely as the baskets are, we don't really need to be stuck with dozens of them, let alone quarts of langoustine ceviche spoiling in the heat."

"Sylvia," Casey said severely, "you're not trying to replicate your restaurant menu. You're creating picnics. Like the one you put together for Dev and me. Food appropriate to the day." He looked up at Dev with a wicked grin. "Maybe some rustic tarts."

"Casey's right, Sylvia," Dev said. "This is a fabulous idea. Other people deserve to taste your food again."

"But the waste," she wailed.

"If you're worried about how to plan for it, don't give it a thought," Casey said. "You and Kat can come up with some menu options. No more than three or four, though. Give people too many choices and they can't decide squat. Once you've got it figured out, I'll put a pre-order form online on the festival website, with the warning that we'll have very few available on the day. I bet we'll sell out both options. In fact?" He crossed his arms and jerked his chin down in a decisive nod. "I guarantee it."

Sylvia's worried frown softened into an expression of wistful, almost childlike hope that caught Dev right under the heart. "You really think so?"

"Positive." The door opened, and Casey glanced over his shoulder. "Oh look. Here's Kat now."

"Morning." Kat handed Sylvia a latte. "Did I miss something?"

"No, you're just in time." Casey left Dev's side to lean on the counter again and give Sylvia the full puppy-dog eye treatment that he'd probably perfected volunteering at Ty's shelter. "Fill her in, Sylvia? About the baskets, the artisans, everything? I know the two of you can handle it beautifully, but if you need me, just text and I'll be here."

As Kat settled on a stool next to Sylvia, Casey backed up a step with a satisfied grin. Gazing at his sparkling eyes, Dev's chest felt as though it was three times its normal size—and points further south were threatening growth as well.

Dev surreptitiously tugged on his shorts. "Casey?" His voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "Can I, uh, speak with you for a moment? Outside?"

Casey blinked at Dev's tone. "Sure?"

"Later, ladies." Dev looped an arm around Casey's waist and hustled him out the door.

"Dev." Casey laughed as Dev propelled him across the field toward the willow tree that stood opposite the stage that Kenny and his shop kids were in the process of finishing. "What's so urgent?"

Dev pushed aside the willow fronds and drew Casey inside their leafy curtain. "This."

He lifted Casey off his feet so they were face to face and kissed him, hot and wet and slick.

Casey moaned and wrapped his legs around Dev's waist, his arms around Dev's neck, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. At his angle, Dev's aching cock lined up perfectly with Casey's erection. He cradled Casey's ass in his hands and thrust against him, the friction almost enough to distract him from the heat of Casey's mouth, the slide of Casey's tongue against his.

A clatter from the stage made Casey gasp and pull away. He glanced over his shoulder. "Can they see us in here?"

Dev nibbled on the spot below Casey's ear. "Don't care if they do."

"Dev." Casey's chuckle cut off when Dev nosed aside the neck of his T-shirt and sucked on the curve of his shoulder. "Do you have an outdoor sex kink you want to tell me about?"

"No. I have a Casey sex kink." He kissed his way up Casey's throat and captured his mouth again. "And other than that way too brief blowjob this morning, I haven't had a chance to indulge it since we launched this goddamn time-suck."

The worry wrinkle appeared between Casey's brows. He laid a gentle hand against Dev's cheek. "Do you wish we hadn't done it?"

"Fuck no." Dev kissed the little wrinkle until it smoothed away. "What you've done for the town, for its people, for me? Casey…" Dev took a huge breath. "I don't even have the words. On the one hand, I'm so grateful I want to drop to my knees right now and blow you for the second time today."

Casey's pupils dilated. "Just so you know, I'd be onboard with that."

"On the other hand, I want to wrap you in my arms and never let go because thanks to you, I've also discovered the joys of therapeutic cuddling. And you're right. Sex isn't the only reason for a relationship. Not the kind I want." He gazed into Casey's eyes, the willow leaves turning their hazel green and secret. "There's something I need to tell you. I—"

"Oh my god!"

Casey was gazing beyond Dev's shoulder in horror, and Randolph Scott's muffled mew was a big fucking clue why.

"Don't tell me." Dev laid his forehead against Casey's. "Another dead mouse?"

"It's, um, bigger. I think it's a rat. God, Dev, what if he does this during the festival?"

Dev angled his stance to block Casey's view. "I think the guests will be safe. The only person he's presented with rodent corpses lately has been you." Dev glanced down at the cat, who was washing one hind leg in complete unconcern. "Cockblocker."

"I'm sorry we haven't had time for, you know, more. I promise I'll try to stay awake tonight long enough to do something."

Dev smiled fondly. "Don't feel guilty. If we feel up to it, we'll fool around, but sex should never feel like a chore, and I've been just as beat as you." He kissed Casey's forehead and set him on his feet again, enjoying the slide of him along Dev's front. "I've forgotten how exhausting musicians can be."

"Oh!" Casey pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "I almost forgot. There's another act who wants a spot." He grinned up at Dev. "You'll never guess who."

Dev frowned. "I thought I'd hit up all the local acts. Everyone as far away as New Haven."

"This band isn't local." Casey bounced a little on his toes. "They're international."

"Casey, we can't afford an international act."

"I know, but they're performing for a small honorarium, room and board, and 5% of the concert take." He gazed up at Dev, his worry wrinkle back. "I didn't think you'd mind, given the increased visibility. I mean, you've got those empty houses, but we've got room to put them up at Harrison House, so that's an option too, and I bet Sylvia would agree to prepare their meals. To be honest, I thought they'd changed their minds. After their manager called the first time, I never heard back, so I kind of spaced it. But then he followed up this morning to confirm." He flashed the screen at Dev. "Persistence of Vision! Can you believe it?"

The mental gut punch must have shown in his face because Casey's worry frown deepened. "Dev? I'm sorry. I know I should have referred them to you, but—"

"Hey." He kissed the top of Casey's head. "I'm not mad at you." He forced a smile. "But POV? It's my old band. The one I left after the accident."

Casey goggled at him. "Holy shit," he breathed. "No wonder their music lately has sucked."