Chapter Twelve
Tessa spotted Grant outside a downtown corner shop with windows facing both streets.
The building was brick, historic, and one of her favorites in the area.
White puffy clouds sailed across a brilliant blue sky, creating a big-picture image that could easily have been the backdrop of an ad campaign for local tourism or men’s cologne.
Get away to Harbor Heights, Virginia, where visual blessings abound.
Or maybe Sexy Smart Man cologne, one whiff and you’ll never spend another night alone. Voiceover: Sexy Smart Man by Grant Gaines. Exclusively available at Nordstrom.
“Oh!” Tessa’s arms flew up as she sank one unexpecting foot into a section of busted sidewalk. “Goodness,” she wheezed, narrowly saving herself from an untimely face-plant in front of the man of her daydreams.
Grant performed a double take, then smiled. “You’re here. That was fast.”
“I didn’t have far to go,” she said, catching her breath. “How are you?” She added kind to the mental list of adjectives she’d begun collecting to describe him. He didn’t say a word about her wild balancing dance, mid-sidewalk. “Still holding strong? Sign any contracts?”
He laughed. “I’ve maintained control so far, but I’m not sure that’ll last. I think I’m falling in love.”
Tessa’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. “Oh, yeah?”
He looked away, fixing his eyes on the building before them and fighting a small smile. “It’s the perfect spot.”
Tessa bit her lip and nodded.
“It needs significantly more work inside than the other two on my list, but this location—” He opened his arms and turned in a small circle. “Great. Right?”
A swell of pride filled Tessa’s chest as she watched him. The appreciation in his eyes, for the location, for the town. She loved that the invisible thread she often imagined connecting her to other locals, family members, strangers, and friends linked his heart too.
“You’re laughing,” he said. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“No.” She shook her head and stepped closer. “I just like watching you twirl.”
His smile fell, then he burst into laughter. “I was going to argue with you, because twirling is arguably not very masculine, but I think you’re right. I twirled.”
“You did,” she agreed. “I also think this is an incredible spot to open a business. I looked into all three addresses you sent me, and this is the easiest to find with the most traffic, which makes all those glorious windows a huge added value. You can put your company name and branding up front for all to see. Not to mention you’d be in the center of all the downtown festivals, events, and hubbub. ”
“I do enjoy good hubbub.”
She laughed again. “This place is also the most expensive, and like you mentioned, it will require a significant amount of capital to prep it before you can open the doors.”
He slid his hands into his pockets, listening carefully as she spoke.
“Delaying the launch while you make repairs and get things in order is another expense due to days of lost revenue,” she said. “That adds up. Depending on your budget, the compounded issues here might be insurmountable.”
Grant stepped toward the nearby door, a small crooked smile on his lips. “You sure you work in advertising? Because you sound a lot like my accountant and financial planner.”
“I like to research,” she said.
“Nerd.”
Tessa laughed, and he tipped his head, motioning her to follow.
“This is definitely at the top of my budget,” he said. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to take a look inside. I have this shiny little key until morning.” He wiggled it between his fingers.
“Morning? Wow. How’d you manage that?”
“My realtor is an old friend, and he represents the owner.” Grant winked, then unlocked and opened the door.
Flecks of dark-green paint flaked from the jamb, and a haunted-house-quality creak echoed through the cavernous space.
“I’ll have to oil that,” Grant said, as if the creak even came close to the space’s greater problems.
A deep crack ran diagonally down the pane of glass in the door. Dead flies lined the windowsill and threshold, likely having spent their short lives attempting an escape.
Tessa scanned the scene before her, mentally tallying the time and expense needed to rejuvenate the space.
Grant wedged his hands on his hips and paced, probably making similar notes.
Filthy vinyl flooring curled away from the walls at the baseboards, yellowed and cracked from age and wear.
Brittle, sun-bleached newspapers covered most of the windows, attached by lengths of crumbling tape.
Clouds of silver dust motes spiraled in shafts of light streaming through holes where the tape had failed.
Grant swatted a cobweb stretched from drop-ceiling tiles to a light bulb on a string at the room’s center. He tugged the string, and the bulb made a buzzing sound and flickered. He turned the bulb a little, unbothered, and the light stabilized. “What do you think?”
“The photos online did not do the place justice,” she said. In fact, the photographer who’d taken them must’ve been part wizard, because the space was in far worse shape than it appeared online.
“True.” Grant rocked on his heels, looking suddenly ten years younger. “I still love it. The history here is great too.”
Tessa’s brows rose. “You know about the history?”
His smile widened. “Of course you do too,” he said.
“A woman after my own heart.” He turned away, arms splayed once more.
“How can I pass up the opportunity to own one of the first commercial buildings in town? The first Harbor Heights grocer, then the first five-and-dime.” He spun back to look at her, eyes dancing with delight.
“This was even a boutique hotel for a year, until the Great Depression put an end to that.”
Tessa crossed her arms, indulgent and impressed. “Until the money that once flowed freely down the river via textile factories and a top-tier grain mill went dry.”
“According to my realtor, the new owner is a business major at University of Virginia. He inherited the property when his grandmama died, and he’s hoping he can offset his education costs by selling or securing a long-term lease. How’s that for luck?” Grant asked.
Her heart skipped foolishly, and heat seemed to spark and curl on the silver clouds of dust between them. She stood close enough to reach for him. Or him for me, she thought, imagining the heat of his palm on her arm, her hip, her thigh.
Tessa looked away, feigning critical interest in the cracked plaster walls.
Grant cleared his throat and moved in the opposite direction. “The other two spaces are in much better shape. The place closest to the suburbs is relatively new with no real need for improvement.”
“The one on the other side of the river needs improvements,” she said.
“But the work won’t be nearly as extensive or expensive as the updates needed here, and it’s listed at a much lower price point, making it less of a financial investment, if you want to stay near downtown.
” She waited, and when he didn’t reply, she offered a verbal nudge. “Thoughts?”
“This one is closer to your office,” he said. The sound of his voice was much closer now.
Tessa turned to find him only a few feet away. Her cheeks heated, and her heart rate doubled. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The quirk of his lips said he knew that was a lie. She’d just made the trip here by foot in only a few minutes, after all.
She’d never understood the expression lost in their eyes before, but suddenly she wondered if it meant looking at someone and feeling as if her feet might magically leave the ground.
“I want this,” he said. “I just need you to tell me I’m making the right decision.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said.
Was his heavily nuanced word choice intentional? Or was she just overly hopeful?
Doesn’t matter. She told herself to stop mixing her personal interests with professional ones before things blew up in her face.
“Do you want to grab dinner and talk?” Grant asked.
Tessa nodded. “Yes.”
She’d take her own advice tomorrow.
Thirty minutes later, Tessa sat across from Grant at Chez Margot, the French restaurant Millie had gushed over, which was within walking distance of the historic office space.
“You’ve been here before,” he said after the young server took their orders.
“I have,” Tessa admitted. “I represent this place and the owner’s wife’s bakery in town.”
“You know The Visible Baker,” he said. “It really is a small town.”
Tessa relaxed against her seat back. “In all the best ways.”
They discussed the pros and cons of the space and rehashed the necessary repairs as well as a probable timeline, then looked through online photos of the other spaces.
When they put their phones away, Grant stared across the small space between them.
“So.” He folded his hands on the table. “How are things at the office?”
Tessa instantly frowned, then reset her features.
“Uh-oh, what was that?” He cocked his head, eyes widening. “I was just making small talk, but that”—he pointed to her face—“says something’s wrong at work.”
“No. Everything’s fine,” she assured.
“You aren’t wearing your take-a-stand dress,” he said. “Hoping you won the battle.”
“I’m working on it,” she said. Then she smiled as she told him about her morning deliveries, the gift she’d received in return, and how much it had meant to her. “Pants and sneakers just made more sense today.”
“How can I join the Helping Hands group?” he asked. “I’d love to get involved in that.”
Tessa fished one of Monique’s cards from her purse. “She’s amazing, and she can get you started. Tell her I sent you.”
He tucked the card into his pocket. “Thanks. Now, tell me about the frown you tried to hide?”
She smiled. “It’s nothing.”
“It was something,” he said. “For the record, I’m an excellent listener, and I’m not bad at working through business concerns.”