Page 29 of Your Place or Mine

“Well,” I said, “that will make this next part awkward.”

Desiree raised an eyebrow.

“I want to make some upgrades,” I said. “Not huge things. Just freshen things up. Paint and lighting, maybe rework the front stoops so they’re safer. That kind of thing.”

Desiree didn’t blink. “Thank God. I’ve been waiting for someone to touch up the outside foryears.I do nails, Lydia. Not facades. I welcome anything you can do to help.”

I relaxed instantly. “So… you’re okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? You want to paint? I’ll hand you a roller. You want to install new signage? Tell me what glitter font you’re using.”

“I wasn’t planning on glitter font,” I said.

“Missed opportunity.”

I laughed, and Melanie sighed dramatically from the foot spa. “Desiree, I think I love you. Tell me more about Cranky McBroodypants.”

“Melanie,” I hissed.

“What? I’m conducting local research.”

Desiree grinned. “You want the long version or the good stuff?”

“Oh, we always want the good stuff,” Melanie said.

I groaned and slumped deeper in my chair, so much for keeping a low profile.

“Callum’s been here a long time,” Desiree said. “That bar’s his pride and joy. Practically lives in it. Fixes it himself. Keeps it running with spit, duct tape, and sheer willpower. So yeah, he’s gonna bark about changes. He’s single. Doesn’t seem to date much. Can break up a bar brawl with just one look.”

Melanie smirked. “But deep down… is there a heart of gold?”

“Oh, honey,” Desiree said, twirling her polish brush. “That man’s got a heart. It’s just hidden behind twenty layers of sarcasm, a refusal to ask for help, and a flannel collection.”

I tried to picture him laughing, dancing, or even smiling for over half a second. It felt like trying to imagine a mountain cracking a joke.

“Well,” I said slowly, “I’m not here to pick a fight with him. I just want to make things better.”

Desiree nodded. “Then keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll come around. Or he’ll sulk and mutter to himself while secretly approving everything you do.”

“Reckless River’s finest.”

Melanie leaned her head back. “This place is better than cable.”

When we left Desiree’s nail salon, my fingers sparkled, Melanie was practically floating from her foot massage, and I had a running list of everything I wanted to fix without stepping on any toes.

Mostly. Probably.

We pushed the door open and were immediately hit with the scent of espresso from two doors down. When we walked inside, the door chimed with too much enthusiasm—three notes that sounded like someone had programmed a doorbell with jazz hands. The shop was charming… from about fifteen feet away. The closer I looked, the more I noticed things that had been loved to death.

Bean There, Done That, had a sign with a crooked letter B and a little steam swirl painted above a cartoon mug. It was adorable in a way that made you root for it, even before you stepped inside.

“Coffee?” Melanie asked, like I was going to say no.

“I’ve already had two cups.”

“You’re a business owner now. That barely counts as your starter fuel.”

I followed her down the sidewalk. “Do they have cinnamon rolls here, too?”

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