Page 53 of Made for You

“Well son, you have my blessing. For the table and Violet. But don’t you make any mistakes with the second one. She’s a special girl.” She waggles her finger in my face.

“You got it. I’m trying to fix one right now.” I smile big, happy to have her approval.

“Okay, I can’t have this.” Esther says.

I look at her confused. I know most people don’t like me, but I didn’t think she’d object like this.

“Oh, not about Violet,” she waves me off after reading my mind. “I can’t have this masterpiece overthere, and nothing overhere. I want tables too.” She pouts.

“You want my furniture in your shop?” I ask, shocked.

“Of course I do. I’ve admired that craftsmanship for years. You better put me on your books next.”

“You got it.” I wink at her. “But I’m not ready to put myself out there yet, so please don’t spread the word.”

I leave the ladies in the coffee shop and I’m more excited now to get home and see what I have to start the project.

When I get back, I run to the barn to go through my stockpile of reclaimed barn wood.

I lucked out this summer and a contractor was going out of business. He used to take down old homes and barns, and preserve as much of the wood as he could. Since he was moving south to be a retired beach bum, I got his stockpile of wood for pennies on the dollar.

It’s served me well in a lot of my furniture and he’s given my number to a few of his old clients who might be selling wood.

I look for pieces that are similar in color for Violet’s bar. I want to go with a dark wood to offset the light lavender color of the walls I saw when I peeked in.

I pull out what I think is enough pieces for the bar and set them off to the side. I am going to make one long table, and then one side is going to be shelves with a plexiglass covering for pastries that comes up taller than the table itself. I’m going to make the front of the table a solid piece so you can’t see behind it, and I’ll add millwork boxes and carve bouquets of violets into the center, matching their logo. For the first time in a long time I feel like excitement has been breathed back into me. Creating something for Violet has relit my fire for creativity.

I’m laying out boards of where I think they’ll fit best before cutting when I hear laughter coming from outside. I know it’s Violet from the melodic sound.

It guts me to know it’s not me making her laugh, but I punish myself for it by getting up to look out the window.

She and Alexander are walking out toward the cliffs. She is touching his arm, maybe holding on to him for balance and it burns to see her with him. Even though I don’t think she feels anything for him, I think he does for her. And there’s no guarantee she won’t at some point. Especially if I let myself go deep into the asshole behavior of my insecurities.

I take a deep breath and go back to my design. I know this is the right thing to do.

But maybe a visit to the inn for dinner wouldn’t hurt my chances.

It’s much later than I thought it would be when I finally finish my work for the day. I spent the afternoon working on the table for the bakery and ignored some check out chores from the guests that left today. Luckily I’m at the inn so I know that Violet is in the kitchen, and that Alexander is in his room. Alone.

I head downstairs and throw the sheets into the washer to start the load here instead of bringing them home like I normally do. Then I can toss them in the drier after dinner with Violet. If she’ll have me.

I sneak into the kitchen from the office door, Violet is dancing and singing along to some nineties country song.

I stare at her in awe. She’s completely unaware that I’m here. Her beauty is something I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at.

The song changes to another nineties country hit, this time a slower version. I slide my body behind her, wrapping my arms around her middle.

“Did you find a spot?” I whisper in her ear.

As soon as she hears my voice her body melts back into mine and fuck if that doesn’t make me hard all on it’s own.

“Maybe.” She continues stirring what looks like mashed potatoes.

“Maybe? I was hoping for a better answer.” She spins in my arms and drapes hers over the back of my neck.

“I have a few. It’s hard to decide.” She pouts up at me.

“Why not all of them then?”

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