Alice #2
June drums her hands on the counter. “I love it!”
“You really do?” I ask, because I’d worried she wouldn’t be open to me giving away her baked goods for free.
June looks at me, incredulous. “Are you kidding? I spend countless hours trying to figure out ways to sample my stuff. You just solved a problem for me. They’ll buy books, eat my cookie, and then come see me when they can’t stop daydreaming about it.
” June points at me. “You’ll be buying my cookies at cost.”
“No, June.”
June crosses her arms through the air. “Non-negotiable.”
I hesitate, and then mime spitting into my palm and holding out my hand. “It’s a deal, partner.”
June shakes my hand in exaggerated fashion, and then reaches into the box and hands out cookies. “You need to pick which ones you want to start with. Here, try the dark chocolate sea salt. No, wait. The brown butter maple! It’s perfect for fall.”
Maggie lifts her coffee cup, avoiding my eyes when she says, “I won’t mention how both of these ideas are better than anything Roxanne has come up with for the festival. Sure would be nice if you shared what you’re hiding in—”
June bumps Maggie’s shoulder. “Give it a rest, Magpie. We just closed a business deal. Let’s cheers to that.”
Our three mugs clink in the kitchen, the sound ripe with possibility.
Soon after, Colt’s voice echoes through the front room. “Alice, you want to tell me how much higher you want this center shelving?”
I walk over, coming to stand beside Colt. Almost immediately, the air becomes easier to breathe, almost as if any decision I make becomes undeniably correct as long as he’s next to me. I point toward a spot high on the wall. “I’m thinking six to…nine inches above the two flanking it.”
Colt grabs a ladder, positions it between the two existing bookshelves, and hands me a pencil. “Mark where you want it.”
I begin climbing, the pencil clenched between my teeth. Colt’s hands hover near my thighs and I say a silent prayer that the ladder suddenly wobbles so he’s forced to catch me.
“Hands a little closer,” Maggie calls out
I glance over to see Maggie’s phone out, and I can’t help but laugh at her ability to turn any moment into content.
“Why are you filming my sister, creeper?” Grant asks, gazing over her shoulder at the screen.
“Because,” Maggie sighs, moving closer to us.
“Her following is exploding. People love watching this house become a bookshop. But more than that, they like imagining what’s happening between these two during the build.
” Maggie taps the screen and then turns the camera horizontal.
“I swear, if we keep this up, it might actually translate into more foot traffic at the festival. Okay, Alice, now…fall. And Colt, you catch her.”
“Come on,” Colt says, though there’s little conviction in his protest.
“Trust the director.” Maggie rolls her wrist, motioning for us to do as instructed.
I glance down at Colt and he meets my gaze. My skin tingles imagining where his hands might grip me as I fall. He nods. “Go ahead. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you, baby.
I start down the ladder stairs, and then pretend to miss a step.
My hands fumble for the frame and—because some dreams do come true—I fall, and Colt is right there.
He scoops an arm beneath my legs and another beneath my arms, and then he’s drawing me against his chest, striding backward on sure footing.
Morning light from the front window pours over our frames, and I gaze up at Colt, a smile forming on my lips.
His grip on me is firm, fingers warm against my skin.
My muscles instantly relax as a sense of safety sinks into my body.
Being held by Colt—it’s like lying in the sand, ocean waves washing over me, sunshine kissing my skin.
“Hi,” I manage, barely able to speak.
Colt stares down at me intently and, for a moment, the fact that my two best friends and brother are in the same room with us is astoundingly insignificant.
“That’s it,” Maggie whispers, afraid to rupture cinematic magic. “Now…even more longing.”
My fingers move up Colt’s neck, nails light against his skin, and his pupils dilate as his breathing quickens.
“Gross.” Grant’s voice severs the moment. “They can’t look at each other with longing, Maggot. They’re practically siblings.”
Colt’s eyes hold mine for a breath longer, and then he’s glancing sharply away. He carefully sets me back down and then steps away.
“Don’t call me that!” Maggie barks at Grant. “You know I hated that. And they’re not siblings, you caveman.”
Maggie and Grant continue arguing as June makes her way to the front door, waving goodbye and saying she needs to open the bakery.
After trying and failing to interrupt Maggie and Grant, my eyes return to Colt, who is busying himself with the shelves once more.
He seems to purposely avoid my gaze, his back forming an impenetrable wall.
I open my mouth to say something, because the unspoken words between us are killing me.
But in the end, I just heave a sigh and glance at the kitchen—to the evidence of progress made.
To coffee mugs and cookies toasting new business between good friends.
And just beyond that, to the wall calendar, marking the passing days that will define my future.
Anxiety slices through this morning’s accomplishment.
Because this may all be a fantasy that never materializes.
Seven weeks until the Fall Festival. Seven weeks until I learn whether I’ve defied my parents’ expectations, or proven their point.
Seven weeks until Colt puts Holly River, and me, in his rearview mirror. Again.