Chapter 5
BOONE
Icouldn't believe I was letting her get to me. The fact that my parents thought she was the best one to make a decision about our family's inn was infuriating.
She'd said herself that this was a first. That she saw it as one more thing to add to her record. Our family business was reduced to a number. I couldn't believe my parents thought bringing in an outsider would work.
What advice could she possibly have to offer that would be relevant? She was probably used to city hotels with pools on the roof. We were the opposite of that.
We didn't believe in gimmicks, and we sure as hell didn't have a nightclub. Maybe if you went into Denver, but people who stayed at Hart Inn weren't looking for nightlife.
I pulled up to my workshop, trying to see it as she would.
The bottom half of the building was brick, and there were wooden stairs on the right side that led to a deck and my front door.
The lower floor had a garage door which made it easy to load vehicles, and the top floor had a large picture window and horizontal wood planks.
"I live on the second floor. I plan to build a house someday, but I don't need the space when it's just me living here. "
"It's really nice and homey."
"What did you expect?" I asked, more than a little surprised that she liked it.
She shrugged. "Not this."
My customer's truck was already backed up to the garage door. As much as I hated dealing with people, I felt bad that he was waiting for me.
I got out of the truck and met him by his driver’s side door. "Sorry about the wait. I had breakfast with my parents."
Dean got out of his truck. "How are Raymond and Judy?"
"They're finally talking about retirement." I opened the garage door and stepped into the workshop.
"Good for them."
The dining room table was already in front of the door.
Kennedy ran a hand over the surface. "This is gorgeous."
Dean grinned. "My wife saw this online and had to have it. It's not an original design."
Kennedy glanced up at me with a questioning look in her eyes.
"I'll make anything the customer requests, whether it's unique or something I've made before."
"Let's get it in your truck so you can be on your way."
"My wife is so excited; she planned a dinner party for Saturday."
"I'd love to see a picture of it in your space." I lifted one end of the table, and Dean lifted the other.
"Will do."
With two of us, it was easy to turn it over and rest it on the blanket in his truck bed. Then I secured it with straps. "That should do it."
"I'll come to you for everything we need now. You can't beat the craftsmanship. I just wish you made couches."
"Couches are outside my wheelhouse," I joked. It was nice to hear that he appreciated my work, especially when my parents might not.
Dean chuckled. "Have a good day."
I waited while he turned on the engine and drove down the lane.
When I turned to go back inside, Kennedy said, "He was nice."
I nodded. "He's a good guy. His wife was my teacher in high school. Sweet lady."
Her eyes widened. "It is a small town."
"Yeah, we know most people in these parts, except for the tourists obviously."
"How do you advertise your work?" She walked around the space, taking everything in.
"I don't."
She turned to face me, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
I shrugged. "I get business from word-of-mouth referrals.”
A crease appeared between her brows. "Don't you think you could have even more orders if you had a website?"
"I'm only one guy though. I can't do everything."
She resumed walking around the space. "I suppose that's true. But it's more professional."
"Out here, people don't always expect websites. Word of mouth and a call to someone's cell phone is just as good."
"A lot of people don't like making calls though. They'd prefer the ease of an email."
"Maybe one day." But it certainly wouldn't be at her suggestion.
She moved around the space, and her scrutiny made me feel slightly uncomfortable. No one besides customers or family had ever been in here before, and no one had ever asked questions.
"Why don't you tell me about your process?"
"I get an order, take the specs. Then I put the customer on my schedule.
I work on one or two pieces at a time." I moved to the work area where I had another table in progress and a bookshelf.
"Then I contact the customer once it's done.
I set it up over by the door, and they can come and pick it up whenever. "
"Your stuff is really nice. It's all wood. Sturdy. I'm sure it lasts a long time."
I tracked her movement around the room, the admiration in her gaze. "I hope people still value quality and durability. But who knows?"
She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "I think they do, or they will once their store-bought table falls apart after a few years."
I thought she was a socialite. A woman who played at business but went home to party every night. I didn't think she'd appreciate something handmade. But I was clearly wrong.
"So you spend most of your time in here?"
"This is where you'll find me year-round. In the summer, I'll open the garage so I can hear the stream."
She frowned when she saw the worktable that doubled as my office. I had piles of paperwork, separated by current and upcoming jobs. The completed paperwork was in a metal file cabinet behind the table.
"That sounds nice, but I can't imagine working by myself. You don't even have a computer or a laptop in here?"
"I keep it in my apartment. I'm not a fan of computers or paperwork."
Her eyes widened slightly. "I see."
"Are you ready for me to give you a tour of the inn? Or would you like to start with the brewery?" I asked, ready to have her out of my space.
"I'd like to get a feel for the entire property and what you have to offer. So I'd like to see everything. The order doesn't matter."
"You've seen my workshop. The next closest building is the brewery. You want to walk over there?"
She looked down at her heels. "Somehow I don't think I wore the right shoes for walking."
I grunted. She was a city girl. Of course she'd wear heels. "Did you bring hiking boots?"
Her nose wrinkled. "No. Why would I?"
"Because the outdoors is as much a part of the inn as the decor." In the cab of the truck, I sent a message to Clara, my sister, asking her to pick up some new boots in town. Kennedy looked to be about the same size as Clara.
When Clara texted back that she'd be happy to help, I set my phone in the cupholder.
"Are you always this grumpy?"
"I wasn't last night, was I?"
"You were pensive. At least when I first saw you on the balcony."
"My parents had just announced that they'd hired a designer when I thought they were going to decide to showcase my work.
I did a lot of the furniture in the brewery, and everyone loves it.
It was finally my chance, you know? But they'd already hired you, and they are convinced that you are the one who's going to save this renovation. "
She sighed. "I didn't mean to come between you and your family."
"You didn't." I wouldn't let that happen. "I'm just placating my parents. They'll see that using my furniture will be better for the inn."
Her mouth opened and then closed. "That was blunt."
"I was just telling you how it's going to be."
She huffed out a breath. "It was something all right."
We pulled into the brewery's lot. It wouldn't be open until later in the day, but Beck's truck was there. Rowan usually walked over since he lived so close.
"Come on," I said without waiting for her to get out first. I met her at the front door and used my key to open it.
Beck was spread out on one of the tables in the dining room. He lifted his head. "Boone. What are you doing here so early?"
"I had breakfast with my parents and the new designer." I gestured toward Kennedy, who extended her hand to Beck.
"Kennedy Barnes, this is Beck Rivers. He's Malcolm's friend and an investor."
He shook Kennedy's hand and smiled. "I know what it's like to feel like an outsider."
I was really hoping he wouldn't explain the real reason why he was here, because it was a similar story to mine and Kennedy's.
"Malcolm asked me to evaluate the viability of a brewery." He gestured around the room. "I obviously gave my blessing. But not everyone agreed."
"Who was the holdout?" Kennedy asked.
His brow furrowed. "Malcolm. He's stubborn."
She raised a brow. "I would have thought it was Boone."
An amused smile spread over his face. "Why would you think that?"
"He's not happy that I'm here."
Beck stood and stretched. "We asked him to make the furniture, so he was excited about the project. Maybe he'll change his mind about you if you suggest his furniture for the inn."
"He does very good work," she said noncommittally.
"Thanks," I said, not liking that they were talking about me as if I weren't present. "But we're here to get a tour of the brewery. Not my work."
Beck waved us off. "I'm working on some things from our first night. But Rowan is still at home. I'm sure he has some making up to do."
"That makes sense." At the opening, a reporter had leaked that he wasn't engaged to Hattie, that it was all pretend. It had prompted Rowan and Hattie to admit that they had fallen in love with each other while pretending to be engaged.
Kennedy smiled expectedly at me.
I was hoping that Beck or Rowan would give the tour so I could hide out in my workshop. "This is the tasting room. We serve pizza and popcorn along with the brews." The equipment was showcased in the windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. "In the back, we have the brew baths."
She frowned. "What's that?"
Beck smiled. "If you don't know what it is, then you're in for a treat. You'll have to bring your bathing suit next time and enjoy it for yourself."
"Now I'm curious," Kennedy said as I led the way through the doorway to the back.
The baths were separated by partitions, and each one had unobstructed views of the mountains. "The water contains hops, barley, and brewer's yeast. They've added some other aromatics, oils, and minerals to make the water softer. I've been told it's a spa-like experience."
She turned slightly to face me. "You haven't tried it out yet?"
"They were literally waiting on me to finish the furniture so that we could open. I haven't had time to try it out for myself yet."
"We should do it together."
"I don't know if that's a good idea." The last thing I wanted to do was get in another body of water with Kennedy. I had trouble controlling myself around her.
"You're one surprise after another," she murmured as she walked past the baths, peeking her head in to see the differences. Each bath had a different decor and feel. You could rent them out as a couple or a group.
"I'm so predictable. I'm boring." I work and sleep. I go to family dinners and make appearances when I'm needed at the restaurant or the brewery. But I certainly wasn't unpredictable.
Her lips quirked. "Is that so?"
"Yes." I felt as if I walked into a trap.
She turned to face me, resting her hand on the doorframe to the largest bath. "So you normally go into stranger's rooms at the inn? Not telling the poor, unsuspecting woman that you own it."
"My family owns the inn, and no, I don't make a habit of hooking up with guests. You're a first."
Her eyes flared at that admission.
It was important to me that she knew I wasn't like that. "I was upset last night. I wanted to see the inn because it feels like everything is going to change."
"That's what you're worried about?" Kennedy asked me.
"How can you possibly understand what this means to us?" I gestured at the windows and their views of the mountains.
"I think I'm starting to."
I wasn't convinced. At the end of the day, this was a job for her, but this was our life. There was a difference between us, and she'd never understand what it was like to grow up here. To want to preserve this for many generations to come.
"I think I'll need to come back and experience the brewery when it's open," Kennedy said.
"That's a good idea." I'd volunteered to show her around, and as far as I was concerned, I could check brewery off the list.
Beck came through the door. "I was going to pop in a pizza. You want some?"
"That sounds great. Thanks."
I figured she'd want to go back to the inn and eat a fancy lunch or go into town to go shopping.
Beck smiled. "I'll pull out some brews for you to taste."
"That would be great," Kennedy said with a smile.
"I'll let you know when it's ready," Beck said before ducking out.
"You don't have to stay for lunch," I said, not wanting her to feel like she had to stick around.
Her brow furrowed. "Do you not want me to? I figured it would be a good way to sample the brews. But I could come back later if you'd prefer."
"It's not that." How did I tell her that it was a constant temptation to have her around? That I wanted a repeat of last night, and at the same time, I didn't want her here at all. It felt like my brain was being split in two.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm here to do a job, and I don't want this"—she gestured in my direction—"whatever this weirdness is to be a problem."
"There's no weirdness." I needed to forget about last night, or I wasn't going to get through this.
She just gave me a look.