Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Never thought I’d develop a denim fetish.
But the way the faded material hugs Phil’s plump ass has me drooling.
Today, we finish the first project we started together: updating Reel Haven.
With the fresh white walls dried and the retro rug with neon abstract shapes installed, the place is ready for the new shelves and end caps.
I admire the vintage movie posters in black frames, ready to be hung on the walls.
The Lost Boys, Pulp Fiction, and Clueless are a few of my favorites.
Thanks to Fletch’s connections, I scored a Terminator cutout along with Neo from the Matrix, Fievel, and a classic Star Wars movie ad I paid a pretty penny for.
Standing in the center of the store with her hands on her hips, Phil is conducting a general survey of the battlefield. “Do you still like the layout we came up with?” she asks offhandedly.
“Do you have a different one in mind?” I pull my gaze from her assets.
She holds out her fingers, making a rectangle. “I’m not sure.” She bites her full bottom lip, seeing something I can’t.
“What’s making you hesitate?”
We’ve worked together long enough for me to learn her tells.
“I want the new layout to feel fresh and fun.”
I glance at the carpet, posters, and cutouts. “I think this is a strong start. We can always tweak it, but the base is on target.”
“No, it is. I just have the nagging sensation that I’ve forgotten an important aspect.”
“Didn’t you say this is a normal part of the process for you? That the sensation happens every time a project reaches completion.”
“Doesn’t stop me from feeling that way, unfortunately.”
I walk over to stand beside her and try to see the area through her eyes.
“We have the gumball machine going by the register. The posters are near their respective areas. The new snack section and video section are going to be a big draw.”
“That’s true. I still say you should slip some movie merch in.”
“We’ll see how it goes.”
She pouts slightly.
“Put that lip away.”
Rolling her eyes, she walks the square footage like a surveyor. I feel like I’m watching a painter prep a canvas. There’s a part of her that comes to life in this role.
“I’m invested now. I want this to propel Haven into a hot spot.”
“Does Chance Falls even have those?”
“Of course we do.” She glares at me, offended.
Stepping back, I raise my hands. “Just a question, don’t kill me.”
She sniffs. “We’re not that isolated,” she mumbles.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her defend Chance Falls. Given the restless energy she gives off, it’s surprising. I like this version of the snarky beauty more than I should. I place a hand on her shoulder, and she doesn’t pull away. Progress. My heart thumps loudly in my chest.
“We put a lot of time into planning. It’s time to share it at the launch. The grand opening next week is going to be amazing.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Hmmm.”
I squeeze her shoulder lightly and let go. “Trust me.”
Exhaling, she relaxes and nods. “Alright.”
“Good. Now let’s pull out the labels to make it easy for everyone. Free pizza only goes so far as a thank you for heavy lifting after thirty.”
A bright smile chases away the gloom attached to her furrowed brow. For a second, I forget to breathe. In her element, she glows. I want to keep her in this state.
“That’s a valid point. I’m done micro-managing.”
I snicker. “No, you’re not.” She barks a laugh.
Grabbing the sheets from the office, I hand her half, and we tape them to the walls. Everyone’s due to arrive in an hour. I’m reluctant to share her. She laughs more, and the animosity she once held for me is gone. Every day, I catch glimpses of the woman she once was.
“This has been a lot of fun.”
“Yeah.” She nods. Her ponytail bounces. I give in to the urge and tug it playfully.
Batting my hand away, she spins and trips over a stray box.
I reach an arm out to steady her with a hand on her hip and arm.
Palms pressed to my chest, her lower body rests against mine.
I flex, tightening my hold on the curve of her hip.
Her breath hitches. Her lids lower, I curl into her, inhaling her vanilla, lavender, and ginger scent.
“T—Thanks.” She peers up, putting our lips less than an inch apart.
“Anytime.”
Neither of us moves. All I have to do is lean forward. She licks her lips. Her eyes dilate. What would she taste like? I catch a hint of a faint chocolate aroma and groan mentally. She’s a decadent dessert I’m tired of denying myself.
Watching her expression, I move forward slowly, giving her time to stop me. The jingle alerts us to someone coming in. We part awkwardly.
“Thanks for catching me.” She pats my chest and pulls away. I miss her warmth immediately.
“Don’t hurt yourself yet. We have all day.” Fletch’s voice echoes through the empty space.
“We brought coffee and donuts.” Bridger holds up a carton of coffee, and Dar raises a pink box over her head like the boombox from Say Anything.
“Good, cause we’re going to need it.” Phil walks over and takes the carton dispenser and to-go cups from him.
“What do you plan to do to us, Phil?” Fletch asks cautiously asks.
“Use your muscles for labor and her eye for design,” I answer.
“Feels imbalanced,” Bridger replies standing back with his hands on his hips.
“You’ll be fine. The shelves are in the back. We can start by putting them back into the plan after we eat.” She waves him off, scanning the room, seeing a vision in her mind we can’t.
“Yes, ma’am.” Fletch salutes her. He stands next to her awaiting orders.
Bridger sets down the coffee, and glances over his shoulder. The mischievous smile doesn’t makes me nervous. “Funny, I thought this was your shop, Korren.”
“It is. But she’s the boss right now.” I jerk my thumb in her direction. Right now the store is a blank canvas in desperate need of color. Decoration is not my forte.
“Hey.” Phil points at him. “I’m working to bring his vision to life.”
“And you’re doing an excellent job of that,” I add quickly, raising my hands to deflect her ire.
“Thank you. At least someone appreciates me.” She smiles at me, and I melt.
“I can see that,” Fletch smirks.
Shut it. I mouth.
The doorbell rings as Rye walks in.
“Hey, sorry I’m late, I saw something interesting out front. Mr. Simpson is out early.” Rye explains.
“Is he?” We all move toward the front window. “Looks like he’s headed to the vacant storefront.” I observe the short, stocky man with the receding hairline. He’s walking with purpose in his black suit and smart black-and-white wing-tipped shoes.
Bridger peers around the painting on the window. “He’s got his lucky shoes on, so he must’ve made a sale.”
I look at him oddly. “That’s an oddly specific observation.”
“He’s done that as long as we can remember,” Fletch explains as he crowds into the space.
He pauses by the empty shop across from Rye’s shop.
“I wonder who bought it?” Rye mumbles.
“And what are they going to put in it?” Bridger sounds excited.
Rye sighs. “As long as it isn’t bread, we’ll be fine.”
Removing the for-rent sign, Mr. Simpson places a coming-soon sign in its stead.
“Brie!” The girl’s shrill voices draw our attention from the scene in front of us. Hovering around a phone, they chat on a video call.
“Girls, I have the best news—” The girl on the other end of the phone stops abruptly. “Wait. Where are you? And why are you together this early?”
“Helping get Reel Haven ready for its re-launch.”
“Oooh. So, I get a first look?” the cheerful girl asks.
“No, we haven’t started moving the pieces yet, so there’s not much to see,” Phil says with a laugh. She turns, and I see a tawny redhead, and she can see us.
“Oh, it’s a party. Hey, Bridge, Fletch.” She waves. The happiness fades, and she scowls. “What’s he doing there?” Her face closes off on the screen, and her voice turns icy.
I look at Rye, stunned. What the hell is this?
“Hey, Brie.” Rye waves. Shoulders slumping, he sticks his hands into his pockets. waves.
“Don’t hey me, bread boy.” Brie scowls.
Bread boy?
Bridger steps in front of him. “Come on, B. He’s helping us today. When will you let the past go?”
Brie purses pale pink cupid’s bow lips.
Fletch shoves him out the way, taking his place. “What was your news?”
“It’s for the girls’ ears only. I’ll call them back later. I can see you guys have a long day ahead of you.”
“Love you, Brie. We’ll talk soon,” Dar says.
“Love you too.” She ends the call.
I turn to Rye. “Care to explain?”
Rye clears his throat. “Old childhood rivalry.”
There’s a lot more to it, but I know better than to pry. “Ah, got it.”
“It’s stupid—” Bridger begins.
“She has her reasons to feel the way she does,” Rye says softly.
Is he defending her?
“I thought this would be the most interesting part of our day. I stand corrected,” Dar’s humor lightens the mood.
“Chop, chop, boys. Eat while you can. We have a lot of work to do.” Phil claps her hands.
“Taskmaster,” Bridger calls.
“Love you too, Bridge.” She winks.
Four hours, a ton of sweat, and heavy lifting later, we admire the finished project while eating the double pepperoni pizza from Fallsong Bistro.
There are still a few bins of tapes to place on shelves, along with knick-knacks to add, but for the most part, Reel Haven is back.
Seeing the images I had in my head laid out before me stole my voice.
It’s the fresh start I longed for. Clearly made with fresh ingredients, it feels like a crime to call this slice of heaven pizza. Basil sauce with just the right level of acid and cheese is the perfect accompaniment to the meat's spice. I’m content.
There’s a lot of work left, but I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment that’s not limited to my job.
I have friends who took time out of their lives to help.
No animosity or competition creeps into our interactions.
Today shines a massive spotlight on everything wrong with my previous existence.
When the food’s gone, I gather the boxes.
“Thank you for coming today. I owe each one of you.”