Chapter 3
COCO
“I’d like to have a look at your—” I hesitate, nervous, knowing his answer before I ask.
Beau’s brow lifts as if he’s scrutinizing my every word.
Either that or he’s bracing himself for some whackadoodle request. It’s not like I’m asking him to strip down and two-step across the bar in nothing but his boots.
My cheeks heat at the thought. It’s best I save that visual for when I’m alone.
“Your barn.” The worst he can say is no. Right?
“My barn?” he repeats, a slow drawl stretching the words.
The back of my neck prickles. “Yes. Your barn.”
He leans back on the barstool, arms folding across his chest. “Why?”
I blow out my breath, nerves tangling in my stomach.
“The town council’s planning a Holiday Hoedown. A big community event. They want to make it an annual thing—”
“Whoa, now—”
I wag my finger. “Uh-uh. No interrupting. You had your turn, cowboy.”
He smirks and tips his chin, willing to humor me. His eyes are skeptical, though, and I can practically hear the no forming in the back of his throat.
I’ve got one shot to make my case.
I start talking faster, words spilling out as I hold up a hand to shoo away a customer trying to flag me for another drink. “It’s for a good cause. More tourism means more business, more jobs, a stronger Frosty Pines. The mountain thrives, the town thrives, everybody wins.”
He opens his mouth. “Quiet’s what brought me—”
“Button your trap, Carson. I’m not done.” I shoot him a stern look. It’s just a playful warning. Bossing him around shouldn’t thrill me this much, but oddly enough, it does.
Before I can think twice, I lean across the bar and press my finger lightly against his lips. The second I touch him, heat zips through my veins, so sharp and sudden it steals my breath. His lips are warm, soft, and dangerous. My pulse skips, and I yank my hand away.
His grin deepens, but he shuts up.
“As I was saying,” I stammer, shaking off the spark. “The coal company’s been sniffing around here for the past couple of years, trying to buy up half the mountain. But if we bring in more business, more community events, we can keep them out. The hoedown could make a real difference.”
“I’d never—”
Another look from me, sharper this time, and he clamps his mouth shut. Smart man.
“And it’s not just about Frosty Pines. It’s personal.
” I add, lowering my voice even though the tavern’s noisy enough to drown out our conversation.
“This could be my big break. The council asked me to design the signature cocktails. If I nail this, maybe I get noticed beyond Frosty Pines. Maybe I create drinks for bigger events, bigger clients. This could be a big break for me.”
My words run out, leaving silence in their wake. My heart thuds painfully as I bounce on the balls of my feet, waiting. “Well?”
“Coco,” a customer calls, waving his empty glass.
I flick my eyes from the man at the end of the bar back to Beau who just sits there, staring at me, his expression unreadable. My stomach sinks. I bite my lip, already backing away.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Worth a try.” I turn, reaching for a fresh glass.
Strong, calloused fingers wrap around mine, stopping me in my tracks. Beau’s eyes lock on mine.
“Okay.” His deep voice sends a shiver curling up my spine. “On one condition.”