Page 11 of Snow Much Trouble
"That's actually really cool. How long have you been operating?"
"We’ve been operating for five years but we launched two years ago. We're still finding our footing, but we've got some loyal customers." I add the bourbon to the pan, watching it sizzle and steam. "What about you? How long have you been writing music?"
Lauren's quiet for a moment, concentrating on her hot chocolate. "Since I was sixteen. Started with poetry, then figured out how to set it to music. Moved to Nashville three years ago to make it official."
"And it’s going well?"
She glances at me, and there's something vulnerable in her expression that she quickly covers. "Some days are better than others. I'm working with Rusted Truck Publishing now, which is a huge opportunity."
"That’s fantastic. You should be proud of yourself. I’m sure those publishers have hundreds of writers vying for a spot.”
"That is very true. And I am proud." The way she says it tells me there's definitely a but.
“But?”
"I just...this is my shot, you know? This Christmas project. If I can write something really special, something that gets noticed..."
She trails off, stirring marshmallows into two mugs of hot chocolate. The snowman marshmallows are already starting to melt into abstract blobs.
"No pressure there," I say sympathetically.
"Exactly." She takes a sip of hot chocolate.
“I can give you space to write this weekend. I don’t want to interfere with your process."
“Maybe you’ll inspire me. Handsome stranger, a snowstorm.” She smiles at me over the rim.
“So you agree I’m handsome.”
Lauren laughs. "And modest too. What about you? Is the distillery everything you thought it would be?"
I consider the question while I arrange the steaks on plates. "Yes and no. It's exciting, building something from scratch with my brothers. But it's also..." I pause, not sure how much to share with this woman I just met. "It's consumed my life for the past five years. I haven't had a real relationship in longer than I care to admit."
"Define real relationship."
"Longer than three dates. Someone who knows my middle name. A woman who isn't just looking for a hookup."
Lauren hands me a mug of hot chocolate, and our fingers brush again. Same spark as before, but this time neither of us pulls away immediately.
I also have no intention of drinking peppermint anything.
"What is your middle name?" she asks softly.
Ah, fuck. Nowthatkicks me in the gut.
Lauren may be sassy but she’s also sweet.
I’m going to have to drink the hot chocolate.
"James. After my grandfather." I take a sip of her creation and have to fight not to make a face. It's sweet enough to give me diabetes, but there's something endearing about how proud she looks that I actually tried it.
“How is it?”
"Mm. Well. Just what I thought. This is...very peppermint-y."
"It’s great, right?"
Great is a stretch. "It's good." It's actually not terrible, surprisingly. "Different."
