Page 7 of Once Upon A Small Town Secret
Many of the tables are full, but it’s nowhere near as busy as I’ve seen it in the past few days. This must be the lull before the storm of dinner hits.
Kelly spots me first, waving from a table near the front. She’s all sunshine and smiles, standing to greet me. “Paige! Perfect timing.”
Relief flickers through me at the sight of her, even though we just spoke earlier today. “Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat she gestures toward.
Kelly sits back down across from me, her smile still bright enough to cut through the flicker of nerves twisting in my stomach.
Up close, she’s even more put together than usual—blonde hair swept back into a sleek ponytail, a deep green blouse that makes her hazel eyes pop, and a gold necklace that catches the light every time she moves. She has that polished, approachable energy that makes you think she could sell you a house and make you feel like it was your own idea.
“Big day,” she says, flipping open her leather folder, the kind with neat little tabs and perfectly organized papers. “How are you feeling?”
“A little nervous,” I admit, smoothing my hands over my knees. “Excited, but… nervous.”
Kelly’s smile softens into something more reassuring. “That’s normal. But you have nothing to worry about, Paige. The lease is solid, you’ve got a great concept, and frankly, the space has been begging for someone like you.”
Her tone makes me want to believe it’s all that simple, but there’s still that jittery hum under my skin. “And the owner?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but failing.
She waves a hand lightly, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t let Ben intimidate you. He can come off a little surly at first—it’s just his personality. Nothing personal. Once he warms up, he’s fine.”
I nod, chewing on that. “Surly” isn’t exactly what I want from my new next-door neighbor and landlord, but it’s better than a dozen other adjectives might have been.
Kelly grins like she can read my mind. “Trust me. He’s all bark.” She glances toward the door, then back at me. “Besides, I’ll be right here the whole time.”
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. Still, I clasp my hands together in my lap and try not to think about how much I want this meeting to go perfectly.
I nod, glancing toward the door like he might appear any second. The conversation from the other tables feels louder now, the clink of silverware and muted laughter filling in the spaces where my thoughts would normally settle. I shift in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs.
Kelly catches the movement and leans in a little. “Deep breaths,” she says in that calm, practiced tone that probably soothes jittery buyers and sellers on a daily basis. “This is just a conversation.You’ve already impressed me, and I’ve known him for years. He respects people who know what they want.”
That’s good, I think, because I know exactly what I want. Still, my stomach is doing that fluttery thing it hasn’t done since oral presentations in college. I take one of those deep breaths she mentioned, let it out slowly, and straighten my posture.
Kelly flips through a couple of pages in her folder, tucking one neatly back into place. “We’ll go through the basics again with him—rent, maintenance, utilities. Easy stuff. And if you have questions, ask. He likes direct.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the door behind the bar swings open, letting in a wash of cooler air from the kitchen. My pulse jumps without my permission. Kelly’s eyes flick over my shoulder, and the corners of her mouth curve.
“Speak of the devil,” she murmurs.
I’m almost afraid to look.
I force myself to turn in my seat, staring at the ground because it feels safer somehow.
Long legs in worn jeans, the faded denim stretching over strong thighs. My gaze moves up to a denim button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the fabric pulling slightly across his chest and shoulders like it was made to fit him and him alone.
Then there’s the scruff along his jaw, the kind of deliberate roughness that makes a man look like he’s either been working hard or just doesn’t care to be too polished.
Finally, my eyes reach his face. Blond hair, a little longer on top, catching the light from the windows. And blue eyes—clear, steady—watching me like they’re taking in every detail.
My mouth goes dry.
Kelly’s words from earlier become clear as glass in my mind.Don’t let Ben intimidate you.
But I didn’t give it a second thought.
I am now, though.
Because this isn’t just any Ben.
No. This ismyBen.
