“You look like you’ve got something to say.”
“What’s in these eggs?”
“Not a fan?”
“They’re…they’re delicious. The best eggs I’ve ever tasted. This whole hash is.”
“It’s just breakfast,” he dismissed. “So about our plan for Project Fixer-Upper. Today’s the day. Lead the charge.”
Rosalie’s taste buds were still reeling from the flavorful punch of her first bite. If anything else he cooked was even one-fourth as delicious as the hash, there was hope for Ady’s yet. Her mind shot to the Autumn Festival’s food competition, its pamphlet lying in wait in her bag, and she slowly smirked.
“Okay, fine. Let’s get started.”
Chapter Eight
That day, they got to work on Project Fixer-Upper. Jefferson and Que handled the pantry; the shelves of food needed to be sorted and relabeled. Zoe was in charge of the dining area, chasing away dust bunnies big and small. Nick and Rosalie tackled the rest of the café, scrubbing floors and clearing out the janitor’s closet. They organized the office, shredding old papers and devising a filing plan. The office began to transform before his eyes, roomier and tidier than it had been in years.
Rosalie shoved apart the curtains and stood back, smiling at the natural light pouring in. The ceiling lights, artificial and filtered yellow, paled in comparison. The sunlight fell into the office room as a bright white hue, loosening the muscles in Nick’s chest. He breathed easier, eyes on the powder-blue sky and scattered clouds. He had never realized how nice the view from his office was.
It overlooked Lawson Street, the back road off of Main Street, but beyond that was endless green. The wildly grown grass and cypress trees lined the area. The leaves dangled from the branches like feathered sleeves, so thick it was impossible to see through them. He already knew, though. After the patch of cypress trees was more wet marshland, stretching for miles around St. Aster as its own fencing.
He liked standing there at the window, looking outside and thinking. He had to do this more often. Fewer catnaps at his desk. More standing at the window in reflection. It sounded like an improvement to him.
Rosalie was waiting for his input. She had angled her body sideways, the window ledge digging into her waist, but it allowed her to face him and await his official stamp of approval. He lowered his gaze the eight inches needed in order to look at her, finding the spark of humor kindling in her eyes.
“Better?” She teased him a tiny smile.
“A whole lot better.”
As he stared into her eyes, his stomach started doing funny flips. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He couldn’t control a thing about them, or the inappropriate thoughts tiptoeing into his head. His attraction to her was the elephant in the room. With little to no distance between them, it was damn near impossible to ignore.
Her soft scent, the vanilla cotton notes, lingered in the air. He could stand there and inhale that scent for another hour if possible, but he squashed the thought. He left the window and returned to the paper shredder.
Inside he cursed himself for yet again tumbling down the rabbit hole. He couldn’t repeat the same mistake. Rosalie Underwood was his employee and he was her boss. Even if he enjoyed spending time in her company he had to keep it professional. That’s what real bosses were supposed to do. He needed an excuse to put space between them.
“You should probably go help Zoe in the dining room.”
Rosalie shrugged, glancing around the office. “There’s still a lot of stuff in here. Remember, we didn’t finish reorganizing the filing cabinets.”
“I got it. You go ahead out there.”
“I thought we were going to head down to the thrift store.”
Shit. He had forgotten about that. Earlier when Rosalie broke down her plan for Project Fixer-Upper, she had mentioned a trip to the town thrift store to check out their bargains. It was a good, frugal idea for their renovation project, but what he hadn’t considered was that he’d be in close proximity with her for the rest of the afternoon.
Organizing the office was difficult enough. Now they were headed for a one-on-one outing; he only prayed he could keep his cool that long. When she showed up that morning, she had taken him by surprise. He had tried to play it off, but wasn’t sure it worked. Did she see right through his cool, laidback veneer? Had she picked up on his showboating in the kitchen? How he snagged every chance to show off his cooking skills?
“I forgot about the thrift store,” Nick admitted. He busied himself with fixing the jam in the shredder machine. “How about you and Zoe go together? I’ll take care of everything here.”
Though he didn’t look up, he felt the suspicion in Rosalie’s gaze.
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to have a say in what we get for Ady’s?”
“It’s not really my thing. Go ahead without me.”
“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll let you know how it goes.”
He continued digging out the clumps of paper stuck in the feeder, pretending he didn’t hear the disappointment in her voice. Her usual creamy tone had deflated even if slightly. She had thought he was going to come with her; she had assumed he wanted to go. Project Fixer-Upper was their thing, after all.
His stomach sank. He hated disappointing her. He cared what she thought of him. He wanted to impress her. He couldn’t let her down on day one of Ady’s renovation.
“Hold up,” Nick blurted out before she could reach the door. “You’re right. I should go. Let me grab my keys.”
“Are you sure you’re okay driving?”
Nick spun his ring of keys around his finger and grinned. “What d’you think?”
They buckled up, seat belts clicking into place. The back parking lot to Ady’s was empty except for the cars belonging to Jefferson and their current customer dining in. He reversed and cruised down Main Street. The rest of town hung up Halloween decorations. Papier-mâché ghosts floated in shop windows and the carved mouths of jack-o’-lanterns glowed flames. Ms. Maple’s Coffee Shop and Bakery played campy, up-tempo Halloween classics like “Monster Mash.”
“I’m surprised Remi hasn’t asked me about her costume yet,” Rosalie said, eyes on the passenger-side window.
“Maxie knew what she wanted to be last November 1st.”
“Pirate?”
“Nope.”
“Wicked witch?”
“Too boring,” he answered, steering them onto Lawson. “Werewolf. Guess who she wants to be one with her?”
Rosalie snorted back a laugh. “She has you hook, line, and sinker. You’re a goner.”
“Yeah, I know. The kiddo has me whipped. What can I say? It’s hard to say no to her. But I already told her, plastic mask only for me.”
“We’ll see if you stick to it.”
Nick braked outside the thrift store. The store had been around for as long as Nick could remember, always at the end of the small shopping mall strip. Hedges blocked the old sale signs plastered in the window, but nobody paid them any attention. The store was a cluttered, scavenger-hunt type of mess.
The decades’ worth of vintage clothes and cheap upholstery created its own musty perfume. The stench was powerful at first, barely tolerable to inhale. In minutes, their noses adjusted, and soon recognized it as the new normal.