Page 7 of Holly Ever After

“Tomorrow it is,” I say, but I can't keep the sigh out of my voice.

“That’s settled then,” he says, turning abruptly to leave. “Have my coffee ready, won’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I work better when I'm caffeinated.”

“Well, so do I. But I don't see you offering to make coffee for me.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You'd trust me with your coffee? Color me flattered.”

“You're insufferable.”

“And yet, you're the one who needs my help.”

With that, he steps out of my crumbling cottage, leaving me standing amidst the chaos.

Well done, Holly. You’ve managed to ensnare the one carpenter in Pine Falls guaranteed to make your life a living hell.

This is going to be a very long renovation.

Four

Sean

“Why the hell did I agree to this?” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face as I look at my cluttered workshop. It's organized chaos. Nails here, screws there, sawdust everywhere. Only I understand the intricate layout of this madness.

I pick up my tool belt, strapping it around my waist. Tools find their respective homes in various pockets. Can't show up to a job site unprepared, especially not one that's... well, Holly's.

Mark, that son of a bitch. He knows Holly and I fight like cats and dogs. Always have.

But she's also his little sister, which by some unwritten rule makes her my responsibility too.

“Headed out, boss?” My apprentice, Caleb, smirks as he watches me load the truck. “Who's the lucky client today? You look so excited.”

“Your sense of humor's gonna get you fired one day,” I shoot back, not bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, you wouldn't do that. Who else would put up with your grumpy ass?”

“Get back to work, kid,” I grumble, though there's no heat in my words.

Truck loaded, I take a final look at my list. Got everything? Check. A sinking feeling in my gut because I know exactly where I'm headed? Double check.

As I drive, memories flood back. Holly, covered in paint from head to toe yesterday, looking as frazzled as I'd ever seen her. Why does that image bring back a rush of nostalgia? The Holly from yesterday oddly reminded me of the Holly from our childhood—always in some sort of mess, and always somehow dragging me into it.

That old pounding resurfaces in my chest as if it was waking from a deep sleep. I take a long inhale, ignoring it. It’ll go away. It did before.

I pull up to her cottage and park my truck. A glance at the house has me muttering curses under my breath. It really is a shithole.

But as much as I hate to admit it, if anyone can turn a shithole into a home, it's Holly. She has this way of breathing life into things, people too. Even when those people want to strangle her sometimes.

I grab my toolbox and head for the front door, taking a moment to brace myself. I'm about to step into the lioness's den. And this lioness? She bites.

Deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Morning, Squirt,” I say as she opens the door.

Her eyes widen then narrow almost immediately.

---