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She rose and shook my hand. Hers were rough with calluses, and I got a whiff of fresh wood shavings.
“Thank you,” I said, taking my hand back and shivering a little at how warm her skin was. The contact zinged through me even after we were no longer touching. “I hope you have a good day.”
Theo didn’t respond and I just sort of stumbled out of the office and back to my car.
The rest of my week was spent finally seeing the house start to come together. Walls went up, I finally got electrical and most of the lights installed, and the water heater came.
“It’s really starting to look like a house,” I told my mom as I gave her a video tour. The floors were getting refinished next week, and then the appliances would be installed, the roof would be finished, and the deck completed.
“It looks so much better,” Mom said when I gave her a virtual tour. “I can’t wait to see it finally finished with all your furniture.”
“That’s going to be a while. I got some lawn chairs and a folding table in the meantime.”
“You should go back to the inn. They have real furniture there. And room service.”
She really couldn’t let that go.
“Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”
She wanted to argue, but a word from Dad made her stop. He and I weren’t as close, but I still adored him. Our love of books really brought us together, even if we mostly read different genres.
“How are your friends?” she asked. At this point, she hadn’t met Paige, Esme, or Alivia, but it was like she had.
“I need to stop in and see Alivia. She’s been so busy with work that I didn’t want to bother her. It’s almost wedding season and she’s stressed.” In addition to managing the inn, Alivia also planned and organized all the weddings, which was a monumental task.
“Tell her I said hello,” Mom said, and I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.
“I will,” I said, ever the dutiful daughter.
I hadn’t told Mom about the furniture issues with Theo. I wanted to handle that on my own. Like I’d handed all the other stuff with the house. Sure, I’d asked my mom’s advice here and there, but I didn’t let her in on every single detail. I was twenty-six years old, and perfectly capable of handling a cottage remodel.
Some days I was terrified I was going to make the wrong decision. Pick the wrong tile or fridge or wind up messing up the layout and having no closets.
We hung up and I checked my email before pulling a drink out of the little minifridge I had in my bedroom, next to the microwave. It wasn’t a real kitchen, but it was working for now.
If only Castleton had food delivery, my life would be a lot easier.
I decided to make some popcorn and settle in with a book. I’d never collected many paperbacks or hardcovers, mostly because they were a complete bitch to move. My parent’s house had an office and library, and a lot of my books were on their shelves. Once I got the cottage finished, I was going to turn the second bedroom downstairs into my library and guest room.
There were still so many decisions to make, and my mind raced with them all the time. It was bliss to lose myself completely in a romance book. I’d recently found a new-to-me sapphic author of romcoms called Skylar Alyssa, and she had this absolutely addicting series that I couldn’t put down. That night I finished the third book in the series and made a huge mistake in starting the fourth close to midnight. I didn’t go to bed until after I dropped my phone on my face twice.
Reading could be a hazardous activity.
Chapter Three
“I brought you coffee and sustenance,” I said as Alivia came down the stairs at the Honeysuckle Inn. The front desk girl, Callie, had smiled immediately when I’d come in and had called up to tell Alivia I was here. Callie and I had become buddies in the time I’d stayed here. She would sneak me stuff from the kitchen, and I’d hang out with her when things were slow, which they rarely were. She also had the best gossip.
“Thank you,” Alivia said, going right for the coffee. I’d also brought her a cherry tart, one of her favorites from Sweet’s. I’d also gotten a discount, because her fiancée’s last name was Sweet, and she worked at the bakery, albeit in an office at the big industrial kitchen just on the edge of town.
Alivia dragged me into the kitchen so we could talk while she inhaled the coffee and relished the tart.
“Sorry, I’ve been going all day,” she said. “This wedding season is going to be even busier than last years, and that’s saying something.”
