Chapter Five
MINDY
I woke up with a start, my heart beating faster than usual. It was Wednesday, which meant the board meeting at the Visitors Bureau. My big pitch day.
The house was quiet, so I slid out of bed, careful not to make too much noise. After our ice-skating adventure yesterday, I wasn’t surprised that the boys were still sleeping. If I hadn’t been anticipating my presentation, I was sure I’d still be fast asleep too. Now, with only a bit of early sunlight filtering through the thin curtains, I tugged on a sweatshirt and padded into the hallway.
Levi, as usual, was awake before me, sipping coffee in the kitchen. He glanced up, eyes warm. “Morning. Big day today, right?”
I nodded, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Board meeting. Three o’clock. I barely slept, thinking about what to say.”
He offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great. You’ve already got Beth excited about your ideas.”
I grabbed a mug and poured coffee, trying to steady my pulse. “Yeah, I just… it’s a big deal, you know? Actually pitching a plan that could lead to me staying here long term.” My voice caught slightly on the last words. Staying here. I’d only been in Hope Peak a few days, but the idea of taking on responsibility that would force me to set down roots suddenly stirred a whirl of both longing and wariness inside me.
Levi must’ve noticed my hesitation. “You can always take things slow,” he said quietly. “Even if they love your ideas, you could do a short contract first, feel it out.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. “Right. That’s probably wise. I’m just not used to…” I almost said depending on anyone but stopped. “Used to small-town pace, I guess.”
He nodded, letting me change the subject. “Anyway, we better wake the kids soon if we’re doing breakfast. Or do you want them to finish that frog cereal?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “They’ll demand pancakes every morning if we’re not careful. But yeah, let’s feed them cereal. It’s easier on everyone’s schedule.”
By the time we got the twins off to their third day of school, my stomach felt like it was in knots. After dropping them off, I returned to Levi’s house—my house, for now—to finalize my pitch slides and notes. The board meeting was at 3:00 pm, meaning I had a few hours to refine my bullet points and rehearse. Beth hadn’t said how many board members there’d be, but I expected at least a handful.
Halfway through the morning, I caught myself daydreaming about how life here already felt normal. A routine with Levi, the boys enrolled in school, me huddled over a laptop drafting marketing ideas. Could I actually see myself living in Hope Peak long term—where a broad-shouldered, soft-spoken bar owner was steadily becoming someone I trusted?
That question sent a ripple of warmth quickly followed by one of fear through my chest. Don’t get attached, part of me warned. People have disappointed me before. Even my own divorced parents had been too busy with their second families to pay me much attention when I was growing up, let alone after the twins were born when they already had a slew of grandkids on both sides. I was used to forging ahead by myself. But it seemed every time I’d let myself hope for more, it ended in hurt. Was I about to repeat that pattern?
I shook off the thought, focusing on my slides: “Springtime in Hope Peak—Attracting Visitors for the Carnival and Beyond!” I typed in bold. Then I added bullet points about cross-promotion with local businesses (Skyline included, as well as possibly Tessa’s bookstore, the Velvet Book). I also drafted a plan for social media engagement and a new brochure design to highlight the small-town charm. By noon, I had a neat stack of printouts and a colorful PowerPoint presentation ready.
At 2:45, I parked near the Visitors Bureau, double-checking that I’d locked my SUV. Nerves fluttered as I clutched my file folder. The small, wooden building stood quietly under the overcast March sky, its green sign reading Hope Peak Visitors Bureau. Inside, Beth greeted me with an encouraging grin.
“Mindy! Right on time,” she said, adjusting her eyeglasses. “Come on in. The board members are already seated around the conference table.”
Conference table was a generous term—it was basically a long wooden table in a back room lined with folding chairs. But I’d take it. A handful of faces turned to me as Beth introduced them: Jerry Albertson, an older man with a kindly expression and a local lodge owner; Denise Ward, a retired teacher who volunteered for community events; Marcus Gonzalez, a middle-aged real estate agent; and, Alissa Hughes, a young entrepreneur who ran a crafts store in town.
I offered polite smiles and fielded a few cordial questions before Beth gestured for me to begin. My heart hammered, but I drew a breath and launched into my presentation.
“Spring is around the corner, which means we have a small window to market Hope Peak as a family-friendly destination,” I said. “I propose that we update the website and online materials, highlighting the carnival next month as well as local hikes and destination spots for sightseeing. We can create specific pages for dining and lodging options and feature a section for family-owned businesses.”
I clicked through the slides on my laptop, describing how to improve the site’s navigability and unify the brand identity with consistent fonts, fresh photography, regular social media posts. I even threw in Levi’s Skyline as an example: “local bar-restaurant synergy sure to appeal to hungry visitors following a day of adventure in the mountains.” The board members nodded thoughtfully. Jerry jotted notes, Marcus’s eyes were keen. Beth beamed in the corner, catching my eye and giving me the thumbs-up sign.
Twenty minutes later, I took a breath, concluding with, “I believe we can create an immersive small-town experience that encourages families to stay longer—maybe even turn day-trippers into weekend visitors, thereby bringing more revenue to Hope Peak. My plan outlines initial steps, from a quick website revamp to collaborative promotions with local businesses, some of which I’ve already spoken to informally.”
Silence. My nerves danced. Then Alissa, the craft store owner, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “That’s fantastic! Are you sure you’re new here? Because you’ve captured exactly what we need.”
Denise and Jerry murmured their agreement, praising my clarity and familiarity with technology and social media platforms. Marcus asked a few sharper questions about costs and timeline, which I answered with as much detail as I could muster. Overall, it felt…wonderful. They seemed genuinely impressed.
Beth stood, clapping her hands softly. “So, Mindy, how soon can you start on a freelance contract with us? We’d love to have your expertise, at least through the carnival. After that, we can talk permanent options.”
My chest fluttered with excitement—and apprehension. “I can start whenever you need. I just…might need to juggle a few details.” Like living in Levi’s house, not having my own place, and the twins adjusting to school. But I couldn’t deny how happy I felt.
Jerry nodded knowingly. “We do want a local presence, but if you can commit at least part-time, we’ll work with your schedule.”
“Thank you,” I said, throat tight. “I’m thrilled. I’ll formalize a contract proposal once Beth and I talk specifics. Thanks, everyone.”
They all offered friendly goodbyes, leaving Beth and me alone. She gave me a delighted hug. “I can’t wait, Mindy! Let’s talk tomorrow about your official start date.”
At 5:00, I stepped outside into the chilly March air, file folder clutched to my chest. My hands trembled with adrenaline. I’d just landed a real opportunity—something simpler and more meaningful than any of my high-stress ad gigs in the city. A shot at building a stable life for me and the twins. Exactly what you’ve always wanted, a hopeful voice whispered.
Yet fear curled in my stomach. This was almost too perfect: a quaint town that embraced us, a potential job that let me use my marketing skills, a man who’d given up his bed so the boys and I could feel at home. In my experience, the higher the hope soared, the harder the crash if things fell apart. My parents’ distant, fragmented involvement after the twins were born had taught me that relying on others could sting. I was the only one I could truly count on. Right?
Sighing, I shook the thoughts away and searched my coat pocket for my car keys. They weren’t there. Confused, I patted my purse. Nothing. I must have tossed them in my bag. But the bag’s front pocket was empty.
Heart rate spiking, I circled the building’s tiny parking lot, scanning for my SUV. I spotted it, but when I tried the door—locked. No keys in the handle. I peered inside. My keys dangled mockingly from the ignition.
My stomach sank. “Seriously?” I groaned under my breath, tugging the handle again. The door remained locked tight. I rummaged for my phone—thank goodness that was in my jacket pocket—and dialed Levi.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, everything okay?”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I, um, locked myself out of my SUV. The keys are inside. And I don’t have a spare set.”
Silence. Then a muffled sound of him suppressing laughter. “Where are you?”
“Outside the Visitors Bureau,” I mumbled. “I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I can call a big city locksmith here.”
He chuckled softly. “Actually, we have a local guy that services the county, but it might take a while. I can come, though. Might have some trick to pop the lock. Or we can break in carefully.”
Relief washed over me. “Would you? Sorry to be a bother. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. It happens.” Then a pause. “Cody and Connor are here with me at Skyline…they’ve been hanging out, playing the arcade. Want them to come along? They’ll love the adventure.”
I smiled despite my embarrassment. “Sure. Thanks, Levi. You’re a lifesaver.”
Within fifteen minutes, Levi’s pickup pulled up to the curb. The twins hopped out, Cody waving excitedly. “Mom, are you okay? Levi said you locked yourself out!”
Connor snickered. “You used to make fun of me for forgetting my lunchbox.”
I fought a blush. “All right, all right. I had a moment.” Then I turned to Levi, who carried a small toolkit. “Thanks again.”
He shrugged easily. “No problem. Let’s see if I can jimmy this lock open.”
As he knelt by the driver’s door, kids crowding around, I observed the reassuring line of his broad shoulders. Something about Levi’s calm, assured manner always made me feel a little safer, whether it was facing a snowstorm, new school jitters, or my own silly mistakes.
Finally, with a quick maneuver of a slim-jim tool, the lock popped. The door swung open. I exhaled, retrieving my keys from the ignition in relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you.”
Cody patted the car’s door. “Nice job, Levi. That was cool.”
Connor teased, “You look like a criminal, but in a good way.”
Levi ruffled his hair. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, yeah big guy?”
To celebrate my not-so-noble rescue, Levi suggested we head to Skyline for an early dinner. “Might as well. The kids were already there, and I can cook something up or order the staff to do it,” he said with a grin. Aren’t the boys with him?
The boys brightened at the prospect. Soon, we were seated at a corner booth, a cozy lamp overhead. The place was moderately busy for late afternoon, but Rachel waved from behind the bar. “Grab some menus!” she called. “And two Shirley Temples for the kiddos, on the house.”
Connor and Cody practically beamed as she set down those red, fizzy drinks. “Thanks, Rachel!”
She winked. “You punks better not cause trouble. I’ve heard about your Mario Brothers skills.”
Cody giggled, shooting Levi a smug grin. “You have no idea.”
While the twins argued over who got first turn on the arcade, Levi and I browsed the menu. I ended up picking a grilled chicken sandwich with fries, while Levi asked for chili and cornbread. The kids, of course, demanded burgers.
One of the line cooks—Thomas, I recalled—stepped out of the kitchen to joke with the twins about the old Mario Brothers arcade in the corner. “I hold the high score, fellas. Don’t get too cocky.”
Connor smirked. “We’ll see.”
Thomas laughed. “That’s the spirit.” He retreated, calling back, “Food’ll be up soon.”
Leaning over the table, I found myself grinning. “This is nice. I’m not used to bar life feeling so kid friendly.”
Levi shrugged, looking pleased. “Skyline’s always been more of a grill than a rowdy bar, especially earlier in the evening. We do get the late-night crowd, but right now it’s mostly locals wanting dinner or a beer after work.”
Cody slurped his Shirley Temple. “This is so good.”
Rachel slid by, dropping off some mozzarella sticks as a trial appetizer. The kids dug in gleefully, and Levi caught my eye with an amused look.
“I swear she’s spoiling them,” he murmured, leaning closer so the boys wouldn’t hear. “But it’s kinda fun to watch.”
My heart did a small flip at his fond tone. In this moment, we might have looked like a real family—two parents out for dinner, indulging in jokes with the staff. The pang of longing that followed hit me almost physically. This is what you always wanted, I reminded myself. A stable community, supportive environment, and maybe… a partner who took care of you the way Levi seemed inclined to.
But just as that hope rose, caution pulled me back again. Don’t get too comfortable. My life had taught me that good things can vanish in an instant.
After dinner arrived—deliciously hot burgers for the twins, my chicken sandwich, Levi’s chili—Connor and Cody finished in record time, racing to the old video game, a relic from the 1980s. With squeals and frantic button-mashing, they took turns. Rachel drifted over to watch. A small group of patrons cheered them on. I sipped my soda, half-laughing at the spectacle.
Suddenly, a triumphant shout rang out. “We beat Thomas’s high score!” Cody hollered, jumping in the air. Connor clapped him on the back, equally excited.
Thomas poked his head from the kitchen, feigning horror. “Impossible!”
The entire bar erupted in playful laughter. Even Levi looked impressed, shaking his head. “They’re great kids,” he murmured to me.
A surge of warmth flooded my chest, seeing how easily the twins fit in. This was exactly what I’d dreamed about for them: a place where they felt special, accepted. A “home” in the truest sense.
It was near eight when we finally got home. The twins—exhausted from the day and from the adrenaline of their arcade victory—crashed quickly in the office. Levi and I lingered in the living room, tidying up. He shot me a gentle smile. “Glad your board meeting went well. You looked excited earlier.”
I nodded, hugging a spare throw blanket to my chest. “Yeah. They want me to start pretty much right away, on a contract basis. I told them we’d finalize details tomorrow.”
“That’s awesome.” He paused. “You okay?”
I forced a laugh. “My brain is…swirling. It all seems almost too good…you know?”
A flicker of sympathy crossed his face. “I get that. But maybe it’s okay to let yourself enjoy it.”
My heart squeezed. “I’m trying. Thank you.”
We said our goodnights soon after, him settling onto the couch again, me heading to the bedroom. Once the door clicked behind me, I exhaled a ragged breath. Enjoy it, Levi had said. If only it were so simple.
I changed into pajamas—loose shorts and a tank top—then moved to the small dresser to stash my day clothes. My mind, however, was far from clothing organization. Instead, it drifted to Levi’s presence. The feel of his broad shoulders against me when we’d briefly brushed in the kitchen. The strong hands that’d expertly unlocked my SUV door.
A heated flush rose in my cheeks. What if…? The thought whispered through me, unbidden. What if he were here in this room, undressing for bed alongside me? The mental image blindsided me: Levi’s toned arms, the faint line of muscles beneath his shirt, how his hair might look tousled as he slipped out of his jeans.
Oh, God. My breath caught. I pictured him—completely naked—reaching out to me, tangling me in an embrace on the bed. The vividness made my stomach twist with startled arousal. I swallowed hard, fingertips brushing over my own tank top as if I could quell the sudden ache.
I’d never quite experienced such a stark, physical longing, especially not after a few short days of real acquaintance. Too soon, the cautious part of my brain warned. You can’t trust him fully yet. Remember how easily people vanish, how quickly illusions crumble.
But another part, the one that yearned for real companionship, for a partner who actually cared, whispered: Give it a chance.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, heart pounding. It was safer to keep my guard up—always had been. But everything about Levi, from his gentle teasing to the way he’d welcomed my kids, felt dangerously… right.
A shaky sigh escaped me. Not tonight, I told myself. You’re not ready for that leap. Still, my body hummed with the thought of his warmth, his solidity.
Eventually, I turned off the lamp and slipped under the sheets. Lying there in the dark, I tried to slow my racing mind. My life had changed so fast—maybe that was what scared me most. Yet as I listened to the distant muffled noises of the house, I couldn’t shake the spark of hope that perhaps everything was finally falling into place.