9. Isla
ISLA
The question hung in the air for a moment, and I thought that Dad was going to turn us down flat. Instead, he arched one busy eyebrow. “Even if I do that, I still think they’ll vote for the factory. The hotel might be good for the area, but it’s less of a sure thing.”
My hand squeezed around the fork in my grasp.
“I think you’re underestimating how much preserving the beauty of the property means to the town,” I said.
“There’s more to a fulfilling community than whatever brings in the most revenue right away.
” I glanced at Locke, trying to impress upon him the same message.
Locke had promised to preserve the property and open it to the public, but what if I was backing the wrong horse?
What if I should be pushing for Dad to sell to me instead?
But Dad waved his hand, as if he could bat away what I’d just said like an irritating fly.
“I think you’re underestimating the bottom line,” he said.
He didn’t bother giving my words any real consideration.
My jaw went tight, even as I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible.
“Pretty trails are all well and good, but if people can’t put food on their table, what good are trees and a waterfall?
You’re attaching emotion to the decision rather than being rational. And the first rule of business—”
“Is to back something you believe in,” Locke cut in, startling both of us. Dad bristled, clearly aggravated, but Locke didn’t back down. “I think as someone who runs her own independent business, there’s no one who understands the bottom lime better than Isla.”
Oh. I couldn’t have been more surprised by that, and my dad looked taken aback. Locke had spent the meal doing his best to win him over. Backing me certainly wasn’t going to win him any points.
But, to both of our surprises, it seemed to be the right decision.
Dad nodded his head, thoughtful. “All right then, Mr. Fraser. You’ll get a chance to make your case.
Polish up your pitch and get it ready for the next town council meeting.
Whatever the council votes for, that’s who I’m selling to. ”
It was a victory, of sorts, but it felt hollow.
It was my suggestion to let the council vote.
It was my words that Locke backed up. But it felt like I was pushed out of the conversation entirely.
I was glad that Dad was, at least, letting the people of Braeburn decide what they wanted, but it didn’t change how my father saw me.
Maybe he never really would.
“Okay!” Locke said, clapping his hands together as we wandered down the street after saying goodbye to my father.
“We’re officially in the running. All we have to do is convince the town council.
” He bumped my shoulder in a we’re-in-this-together kind of way.
“Was that better or worse than you imagined?”
“Both, I guess?” I laughed. “I honestly thought he was going to throw a bigger fit about the engagement.”
“Maybe it hasn’t really sunk in yet. I’m sure he’ll call you later.”
“Probably,” I muttered. Dad had asked when we’d next see him, and I’d managed to talk around it until he had to rush off to a meeting. After today, I needed some time to decompress before seeing him again. My mouth hurt from having to constantly bite my tongue.
“Honestly, I think he likes me at least a little now,” Locke said. “That handshake when we left was more hearty and less of a thinly veiled threat.”
I snorted, giving him a flat look. “Don’t get too excited. Remember, I said Dad could be stubborn.”
“Nah, I think it’s that amazing job I did talking up the whiskey sauce.” He winked at me. “But seriously, thank you for convincing him to hear me out.”
I exhaled heavily. I hadn’t meant to, but I couldn’t help it.
“What is it?” Locke asked, turning enough that I could see the concern in his pinched eyes. He caught my hand and we stopped walking. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“I guess…I’m happy he’s willing to at least consider the hotel and take Braeburn’s wishes into account, but it still pisses me off that he’d rather jump through all these hoops than just sell me the property.
” I flicked my ponytail off my shoulder, biting back on some of my frustration.
“He still thinks I’m some wide-eyed child, and it drives me nuts.
I’m twenty-three. I have a degree; I own a business.
I’ve buried my mother and taken charge of her estate which, trust me, was not a walk in the park.
I’m so sick of feeling like I have to prove myself to him. ”
Locke squeezed my arm, the pads of his fingers warm where they pressed against my skin. “You know, if there was a reality where your father was going to give you the property, I would back off.”
“Would you?” I teased, trying to force down more of my anger. “Lachlan Fraser, cutthroat real estate developer?”
“I would,” he insisted. We started walking again. He led the way. “I mean, I might try to persuade you to my plan.”
“Persuade me how?”
He shot me a cheeky grin.
“Don’t start that, Poshpants.” I held my hand up. “That’s how we ended up pregnant in the first place. Where are we going?”
He gestured across the street toward St. James Quarter. “While we’re here, I thought we could do some shopping for the baby.”
“Shopping?” I pressed my hand to my belly, which was mostly just filled with soup. “It’s going to be a hot minute before the baby needs anything.”
“Time will go faster than you think,” he insisted. “We should make the most of this trip. Braeburn isn’t exactly known for its baby boutiques.”
“Sure, but the baby doesn’t need a Kate Spade onesie,” I said, pointing at the store. “This is all too bougie.”
“Er, right,” Locke said, a little embarrassed. “I suppose we could try George Street.”
George Street. The one filled with jewelry stores. “Are you buying the baby its first diamond?” I teased.
Locke hooked his arm through mine, steering me down the sidewalk. “I think that’s more of a first birthday gift,” he quipped. “But touché. Let’s try Multrees Walk.”
“Oh yes, all that Louis Vuitton and Burberry is going to look great in the nursery.” I pulled us to a stop again. “We don’t need fancy, Locke. We need useful.”
He stared at me for a beat, perplexed. Finally, he nodded, setting his shoulders, and said, “Then I will get us useful. Mostly.”
“You can spoil the baby a little,” I told him. “But no Gucci-print wallpaper or whatever.”
“Obviously it would be Hermes.” He linked his arm through mine, leading me back the way we came.
We ended up on Rose Street. The shops were quirky and fun and colorful, which was more promising than the luxury brands with security posted outside. I wanted to peruse the storefronts, but Locke was on a mission.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” I asked.
He hummed, flipping his head back and forth. “I’m pretty sure there’s a children’s boutique around here. Last I heard, it had a great reputation for being quality and practical. It’s been a while since I’ve been by, so maybe they’ve moved, but…Oh, there it is!”
He took my hand, and we darted to the other side of the street.
The Wee Pram Company was written across the storefront.
Through the window, I could see baby onesies, maternity clothes, and the cutest selection of stuffed animals.
Okay, I had to admit that a flutter of excitement buzzed through me at the sight.
“What do you think?” Locke asked.
“It’s perfect!” I tightened my hold on his hand and practically dragged him into the store. It was bigger than I’d thought, with stairs leading to a second story. I paused in the doorway, not knowing where to start.
Thankfully, Locke did, walking straight up to a fancy-looking armchair. “We’ll definitely need one of these.”
“An E-Z Rocker?” I said, my eyes widening at the price tag.
Locke ran his hand across the short hairs on his jaw. He looked thoughtful, but there was a crinkle of excitement in his eyes. “I’ve been researching, and the reviews are very positive. Though I prefer the gray one.”
This one was cream colored.
“I’m sure we can order it in,” he added. “Or we can get one of each.”
“Two?” I exclaimed.
“One for your place and one for mine.” He sat down in the chair, groaning as he threw his head back. “Aye, it’ll be great for the middle of the night when the baby is fussy.”
“This is too much,” I insisted.
He got to his feet. “Just try it and then tell me it’s too much.”
He looked so damn eager that I sank down in the chair, swallowed by the puffy cushions. It was part cloud, part rocking chair, and I groaned. “Oh my God, just leave me here.”
Locke laughed. “Right? And wait,” he said, fiddling with a button on the side of the chair, leaning across me. My breath hitched as I was engulfed in his cologne. “The forums say recline mode is the best.”
The chair reclined, my legs kicked out, and I snuggled back. “Oooo. Okay, yes. I get it now.”
He seemed pleased that his deep dive had paid off, and my chest warmed at the thought of him poring over baby research in between making business deals. He turned to a row of display strollers.
“We’ll need to get a pram as well. Something small that can fold down to fit in the boot of that clunker you call a car.”
“Leave Lottie alone,” I said. “She’s cute and reliable.”
He collapsed one of the strollers as I stood. “Here, try this. Is it too heavy?”
I held the collapsed stroller, doing a couple bicep curls. “I wrestle Ranger into the tub for baths. I think I can handle a stroller. Besides, once I start toting around a baby constantly, I’m going to be jacked.”
He smirked. “Speaking of…”
“Being jacked?”
“No.” He pulled his phone out. “I found this great app that helps track the stages of growth during pregnancy. And it organizes what you need to be doing from week to week.”
I leaned against his arm as he walked me through the app.