Page 32 of Honeyed

“I can’t believe this is ours. We’re going to do amazing things here. Give my dad a big middle finger. But more than that, I can’t wait to fill it with all the local favorites I want to introduce to all the tourists who come. You think we could have it ready in time for the summer?”

We’re still tangled in each other, and even though I should, I don’t let her go. I press her to me, holding her waist with a medium grip, as I look down into the most beautiful face I’ve ever beheld.

“Maybe. If not, then midway through? Maybe July. It depends who we can have get to work right away. Justin or Hollis might be available, but I’m not sure until I talk to them. We may be able to open without every single thing done, but I’ll have to work with the town committees and zoning board.”

“Those people all love you, it’ll be a breeze.” She pats my chest affectionately like she has complete confidence that I can deliver all the things we need by tomorrow.

“You’ll need to be patient.” I bop the tip of her nose with my pointer finger.

“Yeah, yeah. So what paint color on the two walls? I’m thinking a sage green. Maybe we can grab some tarps from the store. I’ll have to start the socials on all platforms. And then—”

Alana is still talking, but all I can do is zone out and watch her mouth move as her eyes flit about the room. This is one of the reasons I love her so much; once an idea pops into her head, her passion and drive will do everything in their power to make it come to fruition successfully. Her creativity, the way her mind works, how hyped-up she gets while picturing the exact way she wants things …

It’s a wondrous thing to watch unfold.

A quiet chuckle works its way out of my throat. “While I love the way your brain works, maybe we could slow down a little? I brought a little celebration gift.”

The bottle of champagne I brought in earlier sits in a small cooler full of ice, and I pull it out. Next to the cooler are the two coffee mugs I’d taken from the kitchen cabinet at Alana’s this morning, considering I had no idea if she had flutes or not. It’s not like I have them at my place.

“Now you’re thinking like a boss business owner.” She nods confidently, accepting the mugs as I work on popping the cork. “I can’t believe you rented this place. Thank you, Warren. Thank you for believing in me.”

Warmth spreads over my chest. “I always believe in you.”

She nods, emotion filling her expression. “I guess I know that, but it’s felt like, lately, not a lot of people have been on my side. With our fight, and then how Dad and my brothers weren’t backing me on this … it felt pretty lonely. Not that I had us getting married on my bingo sheet, but if it got us here, then I’m happy we did it. Having you support this dream enough to start acting on it, surprising me with this? It means a whole hell of a lot.”

A knot forms at the base of my throat, blocking the words I really want to say. We shouldn’t talk about our past, and we shouldn’t talk about the feelings that have existed forever. We shouldn’t talk about the promise I made her father or why we haven’t spoken in months. But I want to. I want to desperately.

Today isn’t about that, though. Today, I get to be her knight in shining armor, supporting her dream while others are doubting it.

So I pour the champagne and keep eye contact over the rim of the mug as we cheers and then drink. As the bubbles fill my throat and nose, I know we’re dangling dangerously over the precipice of something.

And part of me wants to fall in with her.

14

ALANA

Kissing your pretend husband in a very real and panty-dropping way is confusing.

Having him rent you out a storefront to make your dreams come true is confusing.

Going on fake date nights and then to the bar with all of your family and friends while acting like a couple is confusing.

That pretty much sums up the past few weeks of my life. Confusing as all hell, with a side of wild horniness for the one man who won’t lay a hand on me.

Until he brought me to the storefront, I’d been thinking about our kiss at the pickup counter nonstop for days. Yes, I know he did it for show, to prove that asshole coach of his wrong. We both loathed that guy since high school. It didn’t erase the fact, however, that it turned into something much bigger.

That his commanding lips on mine lit something up inside me that had been dead since the last time he kissed me like that, ten years ago. That it feels, for the first time since we got married, that the tight leash Warren has on any feelings for me is slipping. Even just a little. That kiss gave me hope I shouldn’t have and left me more secure than it should, and I’ve been operating on that adrenaline since it happened.

Then he brought me to the new store, and I’ve been a goner. I don’t want to be one of those women looking too much into a man’s actions. But Warren’s are those of a man in love. Kissing me like he’d die if he had to hold back one second longer. Fulfilling my dreams by going ahead to rent it without my input because he knew I’d simply adore the space.

Of course, he knows me like the back of his hand—we’ve been best friends for years. But something changed in the last few weeks, and it feels like we’re walking a tightrope as he holds my hand and leads me inside the noisy, upscale bar.

Warren suggested we come to the Laura Inn after we finished the bottle of champagne on the floor of our new store. I begged to go home and take a bath, but something in his expression said he didn’t want to take me there. Well, his eyes said he did, but I know his rational brain, which I hate most of the time, told him that’s a danger zone.

So here we are, walking in to find our usual table by the fireplace at our favorite bar. The Laura isn’t a dance club or live band kind of place, like other places after dark in Hope Crest. It’s attached to a beautiful hotel, and between the romantic chandeliers, enormous piano, and black wrought-iron tables with light wood chairs, the whole place gives a modern antique vibe. With the log cabin built before the Revolutionary War attached, the original Laura Inn, if you will, the entire place gives off a warmth you can’t get in other places in town.

With a mix of raw shellfish and quaint split chicken, their menu is delicious. And the drinks they serve are top-notch, not to mention top-shelf. Of course, we know the owner and often work local fairs or town events with him, so we get a discount. It’s probably why Warren and I made this our bar when we arrived home fresh off college graduation.

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