Page 9 of More Than Words
It had taken me years to rebuild my credit and scrimp and save for my new shop.Plot Twist was all I had.And I’d be damned if I let the smooth-talking brewmaster next door ruin it.Not even if the way he smiled at me made something low in my belly tighten.Especiallybecause of that.
I shut my laptop and exhaled slowly, forcing myself back into the present.The past didn’t get to control me here.I’d moved across the country to this small mountain town where no one knew me or my past.This wasn’t just my second chance—it was mylastchance.The thought of starting over again was too exhausting to contemplate.
I carried the teacup to the sink and rinsed the rest of the brew down the drain before refilling the cup with water for my one plant, a scraggly pothos I’d named Priscilla.She’d been left in the shop by the previous owner when I’d taken over the lease, and despite her less-than-lush appearance, I couldn’t bring myself to give up on her.
I glanced out the window into the busy plaza below.The pedestrian-only area of Trickle Creek, lined with shops, cafes, and bustling businesses, was one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with this town and the shop space.From here, I could see the Bean Bag across the way, the Sugar Shack that served the best ice cream and more recently, homemade chocolates and the little diner, Willa’s Whisk, run by Willa herself, who had to be at least eighty.Right around the corner was Lauren’s shop, and across from that, the flower shop, Alpenglow.The owner, Charli, was known for her beautiful displays that she customized for every store and changed out with the seasons.
The plaza was pedestrian-only, which was why the large flatbed truck slowly making its way through the cobblestoned street caught my attention.It was loaded down with equipment, a small forklift following behind.
The brewery.
As I watched, Ethan and two of his brothers worked together to unload what had to be a brewing tank and maneuvered it into the old Chinese food restaurant, through what used to be a large picture window but was now a gaping hole in the front of the store.
I rolled my eyes.So much for a peaceful Sunday.
A few moments later, a loud clatter echoed through the wall.I muttered a curse under my breath and was just about to turn away to ignore the construction when a thunderous crash rang out from below.
Then silence.
My stomach dropped.
That could not be good.
“No, no, no—” I hurried down the stairs two at a time and burst through the staff door at the back of my store just in time to see a puff of dust blow through the old vent cover on the wall.
I stopped dead as the fine cloud of white plaster dust drifted through the air above me and settled gently, like a thick carpet on absolutely everything.
Including me.
My cozy seating area, where the Sunday writing group was set to meet in just under two hours, was blanketed in white.The couch, the armchairs, the coffee table with the stack of writing prompt cards I’d just arranged—all coated in powder.
I blinked through the dust, not able to fully process what I was seeing.
And then, very calmly, I took a breath and said, “You havegotto be kidding me.”
Ethan
The tank slammed into the venting system with a screech and crunch of metal.
“Dammit.”I swallowed back the litany of curse words I wanted to use despite the fact that Quinn wasn’t there to give me trouble and force me to put money in the swear jar.“I told you we needed more clearance, Grayson.”
“It’s not my fault,” my brother called from behind the controls of the forklift he’d borrowed from the hardware shop he managed.“Brody’s the one giving directions.”
“Oh no.”My eldest brother held up his hands, apparently also unwilling to take ownership for the accident that had now left the ductwork dangling from the ceiling.“I was watchingthisside.”He pointed toward me.“You said you had things under control from over there.”
He wasn’t wrong.Besides, ultimately, the responsibility started and ended with me.It wasmybrewery.
And it was my fucking mess to clean up.
I shot both of them a glare, but swallowed back my arguments.I was too damn tired for them anyway.My back ached, Quinn’s math worksheet was still sitting half-finished on the kitchen table with a promise I hoped like hell I could keep to help her finish it up later, and now my brand-new tank had just caused me yet another setback.
Great start to the day.Never mind that I still needed to get two more tanks unloaded from the truck before the overhead door installers showed up on Monday morning.
The only benefit to taking out the huge picture window in the storefront, creating a massive, gaping hole, was that I could replace it with an all-glass garage door-style setup that could be opened on summer days.
But for the moment, I needed to focus on the problem at hand.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
