Page 52 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Jessica,” I say carefully, heat crawling up my neck, “maybe we should focus on the immediate problem?—”
“The immediate problem,” she repeats softly, her voice gaining slight strength, “is that this is exactly like one of my ruined novels. The landlord who wants to evict me, helping clean up the mess.” Her gaze finds mine with surprising directness. “While you look at him like...” She doesn’t finish, but her blush deepens.
“Where’s the main shutoff?” he asks, his voice carrying both authority and care. The same competence that made him attractive in my coffee shop now directed toward helping Jessica.
“I don’t know,” Jessica admits, wrapping her arms around herself. “I tried looking but everything’s flooding and I was afraid to make it worse.”
“Smart thinking,” he says, his tone gentle despite the crisis. “Michelle, can you help Jessica gather anything salvageable while I find the shutoff?”
The way he naturally includes me in the solution, the way he takes charge without being dismissive—it’s devastatinglyattractive. Even in disaster mode, he’s the kind of man who protects and solves problems.
Jessica catches my eye with a look that says she’s noticed the same thing.
While Grayson disappears to manage the crisis, Jessica and I begin gathering soggy literature. The damage is extensive but not total—her mystery section escaped unscathed, though her historical romance collection resembles shipwreck survivors.
“So,” she says, wringing out a paperback copy ofPride and Prejudicewith the care usually reserved for wounded birds, “care to explain why you were with the development guy this late at night?”
“We were having a committee meeting. He offered assistance.”
“Uh-huh.” She gives me a look that could strip paint. “This meeting required after-hours coffee shop ambiance because...?”
“We’re trying to find common ground on building rules.”
“Right. Common ground.” She holds up a dripping romance novel featuring a shirtless man on a horse. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Jessica, I swear?—”
“Found the problem.” Grayson emerges from the back room. “Old pipe joint finally gave way. I stopped the flow, but we’ll need a plumber for proper repairs.”
“Thank you,” Jessica says, her teasing tone shifting to genuine gratitude.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you taken care of.”
The next hour becomes a tense ballet of damage control, unresolved tension, and Jessica’s barely concealed matchmaking schemes. Grayson produces industrial fans from his truck he ran home to grab, while Jessica and I move undamaged inventory to higher ground.
“You know,” Jessica says, watching Grayson efficiently set up fans with the kind of competence that’s annoyingly attractive even when you want to throttle him, “for a man who just sent us both demolition notices, you’re surprisingly thorough about damage control. Almost like you actually care about the businesses you’re planning to destroy.” Her gaze slides meaningfully to me. “All of them.”
“I heard that,” Grayson calls from across the room where he’s directing airflow with focused intensity.
“You were supposed to.” Jessica’s smile carries layers of meaning. “I’m not exactly being subtle here.”
I catch his eye and mouthsorry, but he shakes his head. There’s something in his expression—resignation mixed with what looks suspiciously like affection for Jessica’s directness, even when she’s cornering him.
“Actually,” Jessica continues, surveying her destroyed romance collection, “this is more helpful than our usual interactions. Usually those involve certified letters about demolition timelines.” She pauses, then adds with deliberate sweetness, “But I suppose helping Michelle puts you in a better light. Smart strategy for winning over the woman you’re evicting.”
“About that—” Grayson starts.
“Oh no,” Jessica cuts him off, but her tone is more calculating than angry. “We are absolutely not having the demolition conversation while I’m documenting water damage for insurance purposes. And definitely not while Michelle is standing right there looking like she wants to defend you despite knowing she shouldn’t.”
We’ve transformed Jessica’s apartment into what resembles a disaster recovery zone, but the immediate crisis has passed, and her undamaged inventory is safe from further destruction.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Jessica tells Grayson as we prepare to leave. “Both of you. This could have been so much worse.”
“Call if you need help with insurance paperwork,” he says with sincerity that suggests he means it. “I’m serious.”
“I will. And Grayson?” Her voice wavers slightly. “I know this is... complicated.” She glances at the destruction, then at us, her cheeks burning. “You didn’t have to help someone you’re planning to...” She can’t finish the word ‘evict,’ but the weight of it hangs in the air.
“It’s fine,” he says quietly.
