Colt
I’m double-checking the measurements for the final bookshelves and check-out counter for when I can resume work.
It’s not a productive use of my time considering our deadline, but there’s little else I’m allowed to do.
For eight years, I practiced sitting still in the midst of chaos, but the stillness that comes at the expense of Alice’s dream is a different kind of animal.
It’s been twelve days since Travis tacked that red slip of paper to the front door. Nearly two weeks of bureaucratic bullshit and filing appeals that disappear into a black hole at the county office. We were cited for a noise violation and unauthorized after-hours labor.
Except the only after-hours activity I’ve been up to is kissing Alice during stolen moments when Grant is out, which isn’t nearly often enough.
I’m not sure what’s going to make me lose my damn mind first—Travis’s insistence on sabotaging this project, or the fact that Alice and I can’t seem to get past foreplay without Grant barging through the front door.
The thing is, Travis isn’t just a part-time city inspector with a chip on his shoulder.
He’s a man with a plan, and I’ve spent the last twelve days stewing on that plan.
My shoulders tighten when I hear him slam his car door.
The man knocks once, and before Alice can hop off the kitchen counter and open it, Travis lets himself in like he owns the place.
Which is exactly what he’s gunning for.
Travis removes his visor sunglasses when he steps inside, hooking them through his polo collar as fall air follows him in—cool, crisp, and smelling of pine needles.
He surveys the space like he’s examining a crime scene instead of the makings of a bookshop.
In his grip is a clipboard, surely brought along for theatrics more than anything else.
Alice reaches his side and offers a glowing smile. “Morning, Travis. I’m glad you were able to make it. Sorry you were held up the last few times, but we’re happy you’re here now.”
We absolutely the hell are not.
Still, I admire that Alice is able to play politician when needed. It’s a smart strategy. Far smarter than the one I proposed, which is to bury him beneath the chicken coop. Grant even offered to help.
“Did you want some coffee?” Alice asks. “I just brewed some. You still drown it in vanilla creamer?”
Travis smiles down at her, and then meets my gaze, a smug look on his face, clearly enjoying that I’m here to witness Alice referencing their past. “Nah, Ali, I drink it black now. But funny that you remember that. I’m good for now, thanks.
” As I lean against the far wall, arms folded to keep from hitting him, Travis glances around the room.
He nods toward the stairs. “You still in the last room at the end of the hall?”
I push off from the wall, arms uncrossing.
Alice laughs, but it sounds forced. “No, I’ve moved into the master.
” She clears her throat. “So, did you want to have a look around? I’m sorry about the noise complaint.
Maybe it was a neighbor who mistook another sound, like a barking dog, for us working?
But I swear we’ve adhered to construction hours. ”
Or maybe it was Travis who filed the anonymous report in an attempt to have Alice beholden to him or, failing that, to get this property for himself.
“That might be. But unfortunately, I’ve got to treat it as valid. So I’ll just have a look around and be on my way.” Alice steps back, allowing him to examine the work we’ve done. He looks far too closely at everything, and I know why.
Maggie shared with me what she’d already told Alice—that Travis has been on a quiet shopping spree across Holly River.
He’s snatched up every distressed property, tax-lien lot, and historic storefront he could wrangle away, slapped a coat of paint on ‘em, and then rented them back out for double what they’re worth.
He’s a vulture in a button-down, and now he’s got his eye on Alice’s parents’ property.
This house sits on an oversized corner lot, located near the creek, and is close enough to town to draw foot traffic from tourists.
The man is going to try to bankrupt this project, then swoop in and ‘save her’ with an offer.
Travis stops at a junction in the wiring, squinting at the box like it’s an IED.
“Everything is to code, Travis,” I say, losing my patience already. “I checked it. The electrician checked it. The ghost of Thomas Edison checked it. It’s good.”
He meets my eye, removes a pen from his pocket, and scribbles something on the clipboard. Then he shuffles toward the window, taking his time to get there. He examines the permits taped to the glass, and his mouth tugs upward in a gotcha grin.
“Oh, man.” He frowns, though I know he’s delighted. “We have a problem.”
“The hell we do.” I step toward him, tiring of this charade.
Because I know the full story now—how Travis tried and failed to get Alice back after humiliating her in front of his friends.
And how, after she refused him, he stepped aside while his friends, and several others in their high school, bullied her.
And then he had the gall to pursue her each time she’d come home from college.
Travis is a man with a hurt ego he rightfully earned, and I’ll be damned if I let him hurt her again.
Alice’s face opens with alarm, and in her eyes I see the fear that whatever he’s found may finish us. Because we’ve only got a little over four weeks remaining until the Fall Festival, and we can’t handle further delays. I’m not even sure we’ll survive the two we’ve been dealt.
“The notice of subcontractor validation.” Travis points his pen at a form that’s been posted since day one. “The one outside is missing the stamp for the secondary HVAC vent installation.”
I stare at him. “Are you kidding me? The vent is three feet long. It’s a bathroom fan. It doesn’t require a secondary validation. The primary mechanical systems are signed off.”
“Now, Colt.” Travis smiles patronizingly, as if I am incapable of understanding this supposed oversight, which is exactly what he’s trying to communicate to Alice.
“In Holly River, any modification to the ventilation system requires an exterior validation during active construction. It may be a technicality, but it’s a violation all the same. ”
His eyes slide over the interior, as if estimating what he can list the property for once it’s his. “I’m going to have to maintain the stop work order. In fact, I might have to pull the existing mechanical clearance until a full audit can be performed.”
He’s reaching. He’s reaching so hard he’s going to pull a muscle. And I’ve had it. I move toward him, suddenly remembering that I have military training and this guy has predatory behavior and a clipboard.
“Colt!” Alice’s voice rings out. When I meet her eyes, I see the quiet calculation there, replacing the docile, appeasing woman she’d been roleplaying to Travis. She steps between us, putting her back to me, and I’m surprised by how much that hurts. And that I’m still capable of being hurt.
I storm away, turning back in time to have the air stolen from my lungs. Because Alice’s small, soft hand is flat against Travis’s chest. The sight of it there, on him instead of me, makes my stomach churn.
When her hand spreads, my chest tightens.
I want to rip the man’s heart out for being the recipient of her touch.
I’ve felt jealousy before—seeing a kid at school with new sneakers, watching a mother hug her son, or even when a fellow Marine received a bundle of letters while I awaited the one.
But I have never known the jealousy that accompanies wanting a woman only for myself.
Until now. I wonder if Travis feels some measure of what I do, because his own challenging gaze is locked on mine.
“Travis.” Alice’s voice is pleading, almost intimate. For a beat, I imagine his name leaving her mouth some years ago. Did she once say it around a smile? “Please. Look at me.”
Travis’s gaze drops to her at once. “Alice, I’m just doing my job,” he explains, his tough guy act dissolving in the face of her undivided attention, attention he’s craved for almost a decade.
“I know you are,” she says gently, her hand still on his chest. “And I know how much you care about…this town. About making sure things are done right. You’ve always been a determined man.”
She’s playing him. I know she is, but god, it hurts to watch.
“But Travis,” she continues. “This bookshop, it’s everything I have. It’s my dream. And I’m asking you, as someone who’s known me since we were kids, to give me a chance. Please. Overlook the stamp. If I fail to open this place, I’ll have to sell it and leave Holly River.”
Travis frowns at this news, and I know she’s got him.
His expression softens, and his eyes search hers with a desperate kind of longing.
But he doesn’t want her. Not really. He just can’t handle the fact that he lost her.
Not winning Alice back is probably the only thing this asshole has ever failed at.
Travis looks over her shoulder at me, and his face hardens again.
“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll overlook the violation.
Just this once. But Alice…” He looks back at her, his tone condescending.
“If you really want this place to succeed, hire a professional. You need a partner who can actually protect your interests.”
I know exactly who he believes would make for a better partner.
“I’ll take that into consideration.” The pleading in Alice’s voice is gone as quickly as it appeared.
Travis lingers for a moment, and then nods, giving the space one final inspection before heading for the door. I start to follow him, hands balled into fists, intent on ensuring he gets into his spotless car and vanishes.
But Alice catches my arm.
“I’ll walk him out.” Her eyes flash in warning, but she also squeezes my hand in a way that reminds me we’re on the same side.
I squeeze back, managing a stiff nod, and remain in the shop as they make their way onto the front porch, the screen door banging shut behind them.
Alice slips her hands into her sundress pockets, and Travis guides his sunglasses back on.
As they linger, Travis says something I can’t make out, and Alice laughs politely. But I can see how empty the gesture is.
Can he?
She looks up at him, the wind catching her hair, and for a split second, the image of them standing there—looking almost like a couple—sears itself into my brain.
Travis is right about one thing: he could give her the comfortable life she’s used to.
He’s educated. He owns real estate. He has ambition, however twisted, and he reveres Holly River, to the extent that he’s aiming to own a substantial slice of it.
And me? I’m a Marine with a disappointing heritage and career history. I’ve got a rotting house without an interested buyer and a set of rusted tools as an inheritance. Over my dead body would I allow Alice to end up with a snake like Travis, but what can I really offer her?
I watch as Travis pulls away in his car. The moment he’s out of sight, Alice turns to me, two thumbs held high and a smile on her face. And it’s then, in that moment, that the seed of an idea plants itself in my mind.
If she wants this bookshop, she’s going to have it.
And if she wants a future, then I’m going to build that too.
By the time Alice has stepped back inside, the gears inside my brain are in motion, groaning and shaking off dust, because it’s been a long time—perhaps never—since I allowed myself to imagine my future.
Slowly, tentatively, a plan grows roots. And it’s petrifying, that plan. Because dreaming like Alice does means letting go of the resentment and guilt I’ve clung to all these years.
My entire life, I’ve focused only on the immediate challenge before me.
Endure my mother’s tirade. Find my next meal.
Await my commander’s orders. Build this bookshelf.
What happens when I ask myself what I really want?
What happens when I start thinking long-term?
I wonder, shamefully, if I’m even capable of doing that.