Kinley shoved Ava into her office before she could do something foolish, like tell Glenda this was all a big joke. Mom would hover in the store half her visit. It was better that Glenda believe her relationship with Brayden was real. She only hoped her faithful employee and Mom didn’t start planning an imaginary wedding together.
A stack of glossy cards sat in the center of Ava’s still-cleared desk. She hadn’t had time to unpack the contents she’d shoved haphazardly into a box yesterday. She added that to her mental to-do list before Mom arrived.
“Wow, these are stunning!” Kinley turned a card in her hand, the gloss catching in the light. “Did you make these?”
How Ava wished she could take credit for them, if only to keep Kinley from jumping to more conclusions than she already had. “No, I hired them out.” Ava picked one up herself, studying the beautiful holiday design that showcased three different size baskets, her website, and her store logo. If only she had these cards weeks ago, she could’ve collected orders while she waited for the contents to arrive.
“You have to tell me who you used. Might have them make my save the dates.”
Ava evaded the question. “Ready to drop these off with me? I still have to show Rilee how to fill online orders when she gets in and reorganize my office so Mom can’t use my messiness against me.” After all that was done, she’d be assembling more baskets. Three dozen was only a humble start.
“I just thawed my toes.”
“How about I treat us to coffee,” Ava offered, feeling generous with a few baskets already sold. “Then we descend on the town?”
Kinley scooped a handful of cards and set them in her purse. “I knew there was a reason I picked you to be my maid of honor. You never overlook the important details.”
ChapterEight
Brayden
Brayden woke to Elsie licking him on the cheek. His back felt stiff and his fingers ached. A chill filled the air. He pushed himself up, discovering he’d fallen asleep on his cot. The woodstove held embers and nothing more. “Did it again, Elsie.” He rubbed the dog on the back of her head as a yawn assaulted him.
Last night, Brayden hadn’t returned to Sunset Ridge until after ten. He was tired after the drive to and from Anchorage, with a delivery beforehand in Girdwood. He could blame the coffee table, but that stop had been a quick one. A simple drop-off in exchange for a check. It was the errand he ranafterGirdwood that detained him.
“Let’s get inside,” he said with a drawn-out yawn. “I need coffee.”
He hoped his extra effort and sacrificed sleep resulted in several gift basket sales for the Forget Me Not. With any luck, Ava’d never know he had part in it.
Elsie ran slow circles around him in the snow, investigating fallen branches and odd piles of snow as they made their way through the backyard and up the snow-covered deck stairs. The flurries had flown his whole drive home last night. Shoveling today would wake him up.
Inside, he opened his cupboards in search of coffee, only to remember that he’d emptied the last bag. “Should I get more now?” he asked the dog who was lapping up water. He could stop by Ava’s store and pick up a few more bags of Alaskan-brewed coffee. But truth be told, he wasn’t ready to see her. Not yet.
The drive had done wonders for his racing thoughts, but hadn’t made anything clear. He had responsibilities to his family. A predestined future all mapped out for him. Others relied on him to keep the Young-founded business in the family. Mom would remind him as much when she arrived. That pressure only solidified one thing for him; he didn’t want to leave Sunset Ridge. Now or in the future. This was home.
Brayden shoveled both staircases, waking up his sore muscles. He rarely slept out in the woodworking shed anymore, and he hadn’t intended to do it last night. The cot he stored out there was from his early days in town when his schedule was upside down and sleeping normal hours was out of the question. The accident had haunted him a lot more then.
He’d been pushing too hard. A moment’s rest nearly cost him the whole morning. He’d fallen asleep and missed Ava leaving for the store. Missed his chance to warn her about the text from Mom late last night that demanded dinner at the lodge at four.
Her text message invite didn’t include Ava, but he was bringing her anyway. It was supposedly the whole reason she was coming to Alaska, but he couldn’t pretend to know without outing his sister for tipping him off.
Time. He needed more time.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked Elsie.
The golden wagged her tail eagerly and raced down the split staircase to the front door. He chuckled, meeting her there. One look in the entryway mirror, though, and Brayden turned back. “Sorry, girl. Give me two minutes.”
He splashed water on his face, but it did little to hide one stubborn cot-created crease. At least it helped with his wild hair and otherwise smashed-up beard. Elsie barked her impatience from the hallway. Car rides brought out her inner puppy. She’d apparently slept off the excitement of yesterday’s trek and was eager for more. “I’m coming, girl.”
He led them to the garage and helped Elsie into the truck. Though she could still jump in, it was always accompanied with moans and groans. Arthritis and stiff joints of an aging dog, no doubt. Brayden couldn’t bear to hear her grunt in pain when he had the power to make things more comfortable for her.
Another yawn assaulted him as he reached the edge of the driveway. This one made his eyes water. If time was on his side, he would’ve crawled straight into bed last night. But it wasn’t.
What would he tell Mom?
For years, he accepted that he would run Young Elite Marketing Services. He embraced it, and looked forward to the challenge. It meant less personal client work and more overseeing everyone else. Making the big decisions from the top instead of feeling the impact of them personally. But it was the next step on a ladder he’d climbed so high on. Never had he considered an alternative future.
Until his truck slid off the road and tumbled down a steep, rocky ditch and landed upside down in a creek that he later learned was normally five feet deep. A drought was the reason he didn’t drown. The accident should’ve killed him, in more ways than one.
