Page 28 of Booked for the Holidays
Glancing around, I note that the newly plowed streets are empty and outside of the few people making a similar run to the café, most of Cedar Hollow is still asleep.
I set the pastry bag and coffees down, then reach for the lock box. Putting in the code releases the back, and a single key falls out.
Once I’m inside the space, the scent of freshly sanded oak mingles with plaster dust and paint. My boots echo faintly against the unfinished wood floor.
The pictures my project manager, Ellen, sent me don’t do it justice.
The drywall’s up. The custom shelves are in, still bare, but the bones are solid. The bar counter—dark walnut with a matte finish—is finally installed, and even under the protectivecovering, it looks like something out of a magazine. Clean lines, rich wood, subtle character.
Tools are scattered, painter’s tape still clings to baseboards, and there’s a bucket sitting in the middle of the floor collecting a slow drip from an unfinished pipe. It’s a mess, but it’smymess. And it’s starting to look like the real thing.
A local artist just finished the mural on the far wall. It’s a delicate line drawing of intertwined grapevines, curling and climbing like they’re growing up toward the ceiling.
I walk the length of the space, trailing a hand over the wall where the built-in wine racks will go. In the back corner chairs in plastic wrap are stacked up. I can picture the layout clearly now. It’s intimate and a little moody, but nothing too trendy. Justtimeless.
One of the pendant lights swings slightly overhead, catching my eye. I’d gone with soft brass for the hardware; against the deep green paint I’d second-guessed for a week until I’d askedJuniReadsher opinion in the county’s small-business forum chat. Now, seeing it all together under the dim construction lights, I know. She was right.
I exhale slowly. This place is coming together. It’s not ready for the soft opening yet, and I still have a hundred things to figure out. But for the first time since I started this project, I feel it.This is going to work.
My phone buzzes with a text from Beck, my younger brother. He’s twenty-four, and currently on holiday with some friends at a ski resort.
Beck
How’s the whole “redeeming yourself with Juniper” mission going?
I groan, already knowing exactly where this is going.
Fine. Everything is under control.
Beck
You can’t just tiptoe around like a scared accountant and expect a happy ending.
Thanks for the pep talk. Really needed that.
Beck
Always happy to lecture my brilliant older brother.
And you’re giving me tips because…?
Beck
I’m charming and decisive. I’ve got a knack for handling these types of situations. Also, because someone has to make sure you don’t screw this up again. But mostly, I like to watch you squirm.
You’re terrible.
Beck
Terrible? Me? Never. Look, if you need an intervention, or a wingman, I’m just a phone call away.
I sigh, tucking my phone back in my pocket, shaking my head at how he always finds a way to get under my skin. Beck has a way of making even the most serious moments feel ridiculous—and somehow, it keeps me grounded.
Beck and Jasper, along with my parents, are the few that know about the wine bar and the reason I’m laying down roots in Cedar Hollow.
Creating a business next door to Juniper’s—while she still carries a healthy dose of dislike for me—might seem insane to anyone else. Jasper calls it madness. I call it opportunity. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, right? Well, this is my calculated kind of insane. Never in my life have I pursued a woman the way I plan to pursue Juniper. All in. No holding back. So much skin in the game that I could get burned.
And yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
