Love lies and mistletoe, p.8
Love, Lies and Mistletoe, page 8
Brant sat on the little yellow bench next to the door. He frowned when he saw her. Layla unbuckled her belt.
She glanced back at Kyle. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
Layla deflated. What he’d been telling her about his trip had been fascinating, but Kyle’s voice faded when she caught sight of the truck.
Her hand was on the handle before she remembered to acknowledge their day together. Kyle had put a lot of thought into making it special, yet all of it vanished in a blink. She hated herself for being so easily distracted. “I had a really nice time today. Thank you.”
Kyle brightened. “I’m happy to hear you liked it. Now you’re a snowshoe pro.”
“Not yet, but thanks for the ego boost.” She laughed a little too loudly. It was time to get out before he realized how distracted she was.
“Who’s that?” Kyle leaned forward to peer through her window.
She waved the question away. “Oh, nobody important.”
“Do you know him?”
“Kind of…yes. He sets up light displays.”
“Light displays. As in Christmas decorations?”
No wonder Brant glowered at them. They were both staring at him like he was a zoo animal.
Layla gave another sharp laugh. “Yes, exactly.”
Kyle looked skeptical. “Why is he sitting in front of your shop?
“Oh. Well, his… He said he was coming by to drop something off that I forgot at the last job.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. That Brant had done it last week was a minor detail.
“So you’ve worked together.”
“Yes, last month. In Hendricks.”
Kyle continued to stare at Brant like they were locked into some kind of telepathic, alpha male beatdown. “Should I walk you to the door?”
“No, I’ll be fine. He’s full of himself but harmless.”
Kyle’s shoulders drooped. “If you’re sure you’ll be all right.”
She rested her hand on his. “I’m good. Thanks again for today.”
Outside, she shut the door and waved at Kyle through the window before he drove away. If she had time to think about it before she faced Brant, she might wonder why she was so anxious to say goodbye.
Chapter Thirteen
Brant leaned back to rest his arm across the bench as he watched that fancy SUV disappear down the street. The bench creaked under his weight, so he shifted again before it gave way and landed him on the boardwalk.
He sniffed. “Who was that?”
“I don’t think that’s your business.” Layla flounced onto the porch with an air of indifference, barely looking at him.
“A brother—?”
“I don’t have a brother.” The wind blew, carrying one end of her scarf across her face. She peeled it off, frowning.
“A friend from high school?”
“No.”
He cocked his head. “A boyfriend?”
She bit down on her lip.
Brant leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Ahh. She doesn’t deny it.” He scratched his jaw. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.”
“We’ve gone out with a few times, but he’s not a boyfriend. And it really isn’t something you need to worry about.” The word “boyfriend” sounded so juvenile when she repeated it.
“Fair enough.” He looked across the street, feeling a little embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken. He hadn’t meant to sound so jealous.
Brant got up, stretched his hands over his head, then shoved his hands in his pockets. Layla’s eyebrows came together, but the hardness of her expression faltered. He looked down the block for a moment again. Her scrutiny made him a little nervous. It was like she was looking through him, dissecting his thoughts. That or checking him out. He held back a grin, liking the idea of that.
“My personal life aside, what are you doing here?” she finally asked.
“I came to look at a building.”
“What building?”
He glanced down at the paper he pulled from his pocket. “433 Copper Mill Road. That one?” Brant lifted his chin toward the building kitty corner to Layla’s shop.
“The old Conner Ice Company? What on earth for?”
“I’m getting kicked out of my business space. It’s condemned.”
“Well, this one isn’t far behind in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Is that a joke?”
She looked at it again. “No,” she said, pretty convincingly. “If you don’t mind pigeons for coworkers, it’s perfect. Who’s showing it to you?”
Brant looked again at his paper. “Ernie.”
“Oh.” She frowned again. “What time were you supposed to meet?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Layla finally unfroze and walked toward her shop door. “You’ll probably be waiting twenty more. Ernie is always late. If he shows at all.”
He checked the time. Jeff expected him back by five to load the truck for tomorrow. That wasn’t possible if Ernie didn’t show in the next minute or so.
“I can give him a call if you’d like. Ernie lives across the street. He’s probably looking out the window at you now.” She unlocked the shop door. “Come in.”
Brant glanced at the storefront across the street, a little paranoid at the notion of someone spying on him yet not meeting at the appointed time. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
A doubtful looked crossed her face. “You don’t know Ernie.”
Layla unzipped her coat as she walked across the shop toward the counter. Brant rubbed his boots on the doormat that read “Good Friends and Chocolate are Always Welcome,” and was immediately hit by the scent of clove and fir trees. It was fresh, intoxicating. Shutting the door, he followed Layla.
“So where did he take you?”
The phone was at her ear as she looked back at him. “Huh?”
“The date. Where’d you go?”
She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but it was close. “We went snowshoeing.”
Brant nodded, chewing on his lip.
Layla slowly shook her head. “He’s not answering.”
He stood in front of her now, looking down into her wide dark eyes. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but there was a hint of merriment in her expression, like him meeting Ernie was the biggest joke of all.
“Rover Man took you snowshoeing? What kind of date is that?”
“A fun one,” she said dismissively. Layla set her phone on the counter and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. She seemed to be weighing something heavy. Finally, she said, “I can take you around the perimeter if you’d like. I don’t have a key, but you can at least peek in the windows.”
If the topic of snowshoeing was off limits, he’d get her talking about Copper Creek real estate. At least his trip wouldn’t be a complete waste if Ernie didn’t show. “If it won’t be too much trouble for you.”
Layla waved her hand, leading the way back to the front door. “Not a big deal.”
The building and its parking lot took up the whole block. There were probably more weeds growing through the concrete than there were in the nature preserve he noticed south of town. It wasn’t pretty. The green awnings over the main entrance were stained and flapped in the breeze. But he couldn’t care less about cosmetics. All he needed was a roof over his equipment.
They stepped over a rusty chain-link fence that did nothing to keep anyone off the premises or contained within. The solid two-story building had wide double wooden doors on this side. He’d bet the doors were old enough to have seen horse-drawn wagons loaded with ice at some point. Now the doors were hardly weatherproof. Their only appeal was purely aesthetic.
They approached one of the windows, but the sill was too high to see anything. Layla scanned the area around them and found a concrete block in the grass. She set it underneath the window. Brant gingerly balanced himself on it while he peered into the darkness of the first floor before his eyes adjusted.
It was a mess, all right. Garbage littered the floor. Broken windows on the other side let in shafts of light, revealing puddles dotting the concrete floor. The big equipment he expected to see was gone, a plus.
“Ernie had all the metal scrapped years ago. He’s made halfhearted attempts to sell the building but honestly, I think he likes owning the biggest building in town.” Layla leaned against the wall while he studied the overhead door, wondering if his truck would fit. “He’s our only local realtor, but the title doesn’t quite fit.”
“Sounds a little eccentric.”
“A wealthy eccentric. He certainly doesn’t need the money.”
“No?” He stepped off the block and brushed his hands together. The sill was littered with debris from the old crumbling bricks and whatever the wildlife left.
“His family made a fortune in the mines up here when they were a thing.”
He blew the air out of his cheeks. It looked like the reclusive Ernie wasn’t going to show. In hindsight, it shocked him that Joan was able to get a hold of him at all, let alone make an appointment.
They walked around the back of the building together, fighting fallen limbs and vines, victims of storms who knew how long ago. At one point, Layla faltered as she stepped over the trunk of a small cedar. Her arms flailed before Brant lunged forward to steady her.
“Are you good?” His one hand was on her hip, the other holding on to her opposite arm as she found her balance again. The scent of her shampoo floated in the air when her hair brushed his cheek. It was almost painful to let her go.
“Yes, thank you.” She slipped her arm away, but smiled at him over her shoulder. Two ruddy circles marked her cheeks.
“I’m sorry that this was a wasted trip for you,” she said when they stood next to his truck five minutes later. She looked over to the building across the street again, where the mysterious Ernie supposedly lived. “Maybe he’s not even home.”
“You’re right. It’s probably a little too far gone.”
“On the other hand, Copper Creek doesn’t have a health inspector who’d kick you out.”
“True.” Brant felt the sense of urgency to find a place grow now that this building was off the table. “Well, if you hear of a place that’s big enough to fit a delivery truck and scaffolding inside, let me know. And I don’t mind pigeons.”
She laughed. Her eyes looked much brighter, enhanced by the cold and her white parka. When he caught her eye, Layla’s smile slowly faded. A silent moment held them suspended while a little thread of regret wove its way into his subconscious.
He needed to choose his words carefully. “You know, we never finished the conversation in the living room that night. When we were at the inn.”
Her lips parted. They were the color of ripe cherries. “Which conversation was that?” she asked.
“You said the kiss wasn’t the problem. But you never told me what the problem was. The lights came on and you didn’t finish what you were saying.”
Layla nodded slowly but stayed silent. There was that look again. The slight tilt to her chin, hinting at strong opinions swirling around in that pretty head, thoughts he might never be privy to.
He shrugged. “I’d really like to know what it was. You know, so I don’t do it again. To anyone.”
A small smile curved her lips until she looked down at her feet.
“You made me feel small in front of your girlfriend and the person I was with. Insignificant. As if kissing me was not only a mistake, but beneath you. You made it personal,” she said, her voice hushed. “It wasn’t that big of a deal until you opened your mouth.”
After all this time the memory still brought her pain. He knew that by the way her forehead creased as she spoke.
“She wasn’t my girlfriend.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He looked down the street. “You’re right. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’ve put it behind me.”
“But you still don’t trust me.”
She smiled again and lifted a shoulder. That would be a yes.
They stood there looking at each other. He wanted to say the magic words to build that trust again. But he had no idea what to do aside from giving her endless apologies. Maybe it didn’t matter much, regaining her trust. It wasn’t like they ran in the same circles. It was a lesson in perspective though. Empathy too. At the time, he didn’t see his reaction as problematic. To her, it had been everything.
But if somehow he could change the way she felt about him, the dinner at Blueberry Point Lodge might be something to look forward to. As it appeared, he was only to be tolerated. She’d just as soon spend the evening with a goat than him.
“I’ll offer again: If you want to take the Holly Days dinner off the table, I’ll understand.” The invitation was certainly a mistake, but he’d never tell her that.
She looked at him coolly. “That’s all right. It might be a good networking event like you said. I have to find someone to cover an hour or two for me that day if I go. I’ll let you know.”
He squeezed the door handle on his truck when she spoke up.
“Thanks for the apology,” she said. “It means a lot.”
Layla left him at the truck. He watched her go until she walked back into her shop and shut the door, the heart-shaped holly wreath swinging in place.
* * *
A little while later, Layla was dusting the shelves with all the candles. It never ceased to amaze her how her little closed-up shop, in the dead of winter, accumulated so much dust. Maybe it was the old plaster walls or the exposed brick wall shedding their surfaces, particle by particle. Either way, she’d wipe off a shelf and the next day she could write her name on it. Business had picked up these last few days, so she wanted to keep the place spotless.
She set the last few candles back in place when her phone dinged inside the pocket of her cardigan.
Thanks for showing me the space on such short notice. Nice to see you again.
Layla stared at Brant’s message and smiled to herself.
She needed to answer him soon about the Holly Days dinner invite. She’d put it off too long already.
Maybe tomorrow.
Chapter Fourteen
Layla opened the stockroom’s outside door as the delivery truck driver navigated the short gravel drive in the alley, its backup alarm beeping. Merchandise deliveries made the day feel like Christmas morning. Opening the boxes to see what she’d ordered filled her with joy. She couldn’t wait to see if her customers loved the merchandise she’d handpicked as much as she did, especially now that Christmas was six weeks away. Some of the art pieces, cards, and specialty food items would be gifts for loved ones, she knew. In a way, a little piece of Copper Creek Home would meld with so many other homes. She loved spreading her passion for design that way.
Snow flurries pricked her skin as she squinted against the wind. She zipped her parka as Rick, the driver, hopped down from the cab of this truck. At the front of the store, Marybelle tended to customers while Layla helped unload.
“How are you doing today, Miss Layla?”
Rick had been the substitute driver until the other driver retired last spring. Now that he’d taken over the route permanently, Layla saw him at least once a week. She liked Rick. He was definitely more talkative than the previous driver, and they’d become fast friends.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Layla, not Miss Layla?”
There was a twinkle in his eye. He could be the prototype for Santa Claus with his froth of prematurely whitened hair and perpetually red nose. “I know. I’m teasing.” He lifted the latch on the door and pushed it up on its track. “You’re getting busier, I guess. Half my truck is filled with your orders.”
“That’s why I enlisted some help today.” She glanced at the street and the empty parking spaces for Kyle’s Rover. “Though he’s not here yet.”
Rick set the red dolly on the ground and stacked boxes onto it. “Not a problem. We’ll get these inside in no time.”
Good on his word, Rick made a dozen trips while Layla carried in some smaller boxes. She couldn’t wait to open them.
After he’d brought in the last load, Layla stopped him. She handed Rick a lidded cup of steaming cocoa she’d just brewed on her Keurig when he turned into the alley. “Here you go. Thanks so much.”
“Aww. You didn’t have to do this,” he said.
“I know, but I want to let you know how much I appreciate you. For all your hard work and smiles.” She had no idea if he was a coffee drinker, but she figured hot chocolate would be a safe bet for anyone.
Rick said goodbye and passed Kyle as he was leaving through the back door.
“Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the office.” Kyle shrugged off his coat. He hung it over a chair and kissed her forehead.
While he studied the pile of boxes, Layla discreetly smoothed the hair he’d mussed with his kiss. “Do you see patients on the weekend?” she asked.
“No, but I go in to catch up sometimes. Paperwork.” Outside, the alarm on Rick’s truck beeped again as he backed out of the alley. “Did you get everything inside already?”
She nodded, noting his frown. There was no sense in reminding him that she’d said to be here by eleven.
He brushed his hands together. “Well, I can help you unpack then.”
Truthfully, she’d rather do this part by herself since she enjoyed it so much. But he was here and ready to work. She opened the box from Heart Hills Farms, her supplier of candles, and slid it toward him as he found a seat on her rolling desk chair. What harm could he do to a box of candles?
She set to unpacking the hand-painted tabletop frames from another box. They were adorable; little wilderness and small town vignettes were painted in acrylics across the bottom of each frame. There was a main street scene with a yellow clapboard storefront that reminded her of Copper Creek Home. Smiling, she set it aside. Maybe she’d ask Kyle to take a photo of her standing on the porch later. The frame would look perfect on her desk. The request was on the tip of her tongue as she glanced at him across the room. But Kyle was stacking candles three high on the shelf, shoving them into their designated spaces carelessly, clinking the glass jars together.
