Page 51 of Homesick

CHAPTER 18

“So, what do you think?” I say before closing my laptop.

“I think it’s great, Wren. You’re going to knock their socks off,” Sheila says with a wink. “When are you sending it to the lady at the visitor’s bureau?”

“I don’t know. I want to get one more opinion before I send it to her,” I answer.

I spent the last week organizing all the work I’d done for the Rustic Inn and other projects into a portfolio to present to the visitor’s bureau. Once the director sees my work and is hopefully impressed, she’ll vouch for me at other small businesses in the community. This could be a key first step in establishing my own digital marketing agency in Honey Grove.

Starting my own agency will be a lot of work and a lot of boutique agencies don’t have long lifespans. My strategy is to find small businesses like the Rustic Inn and help them live up to their potential by attracting customers outside of our small town.

A lot of the small businesses in Honey Grove don’t have social media, so the biggest challenge is communicating its value. Many of these businesses are run by people I have known my entire life. It’s just a matter of getting them to pay me for services they think they can do themselves for free.

“I wouldn’t worry so much, Wren. They’re already impressed with your work. They just want a face to go with the name. I’m sure you’ll make a great impression. You made a great first impression on me,” Sheila says before stalking off to the back to do some paperwork.

She’s right. I did make a good first impression on her. I think back to when we were kids and the first time I visited Sheila and Blake’s house with my brother. He went barreling in the door without a care in the world, while I politely entered and made sure to tell Sheila what a lovely home she had. She instantly got a kick out of my grown-up behavior and made sure to always tell Blake what a great girl I was, especially when I was in the room.

After the break-up, I took a step back, but having her back in my life now makes me regret the years I missed with her. Sheila was like a second mom growing up, so it hurt even worse when I lost her and Blake at the same time.

I pop open my laptop again and get comfy on the worn-out bar stool I had claimed as mine over these past few weeks. The bar is in a weird midafternoon lull that typically happens between lunch and dinner. I take advantage of the quiet and carefully scan my portfolio.

A few minutes go by, and I don’t even notice the ringing sound that goes off when a customer enters. Just as I’m leaning into my computer screen to move one of my pictures, I see a tousled mess of brown hair floating above my eye line.

“You know you really shouldn’t be that close to your screen,” Blake says with a warm and inviting smile.

I let out a huff of annoyance and lean back away from the tiny screen. A small sigh of relief escapes me when my back cracks from the sudden alertness of my spine.

“Oh hush, Fisher. I think you have enough brain damage for the both of us from the weeklong bull riding stint you had.”

“Hey! I could’ve gone pro if I didn’t get hurt so early in my career.”

“You fell off a practice bull and barely hit your head.”

“Ahh whatever. What are you working on, Campbell?” Blake questions, quickly changing the subject.

I laugh at his not-so-smooth diversion and turn my laptop toward him.

“I’m putting together a portfolio to send to the director at the visitor’s bureau. She said she has some businesses that she could recommend my services to. I’m thinking about starting my own little agency,” I say, looking down at my hands folded in my lap.

For a few minutes, I’m met with a brick wall of silence. I look up and see Blake scrolling through my work. His face twists into a serious smolder, like he’s carefully evaluating each slide.

He squints his eyes slightly and a wrinkle begins to form between his brows as he concentrates. I feel a warm buzzing in my bones that radiates up to my heart. I love that he’s so entranced in my work or at least that he’s pretending to be.

After a few more moments of scrolling, Blake sits up straight on his side of the bar and brings his eyes to mine. A glimmer of a smile creeps up on his mouth and I can’t help but to mirror his expression.

“Wren, your work is . . . amazing. You’ve always been smart, but this. Well, I think you could really help some of the small businesses in this area.”

“You don’t think slide five could use more insights? I really wanted to—” Before I can finish my sentence, Blake cuts me off.

“Wren, this presentation is going to blow them away.”

“Thank you. I guess I’m just nervous because this is one of the first steps I’m taking toward starting my own business. This could be great, or it could be another failure on a long list of many.”

Blake looks at me for a second and puts on his concentration face again.

“The way I see it is the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward. It’s going to be a lot of hard work and you’ll probably find situations where you doubt yourself more than once, but I think you’ve got a real shot here.”

It’s frustrating how supportive Blake is being in this moment. He’d always been my biggest cheerleader and there for a while, I forgot how good it felt to feel the warmth of his praise. I brace my hands against the wooden curve of the bar for balance. It’s becoming harder and harder to resist his charms.

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