* * *
Brayden backed his truck out of his garage, cringing at the mess Ed had left behind. The wreath he bought from Ava’s store was murdered. Branches and fake berries lay strewn in the freshly fallen snow.
“Guess I’ll have to get another,” he murmured, shifting into park and hopping out.
He gathered up the mess and dropped it into the trash can as Elsie watched him from the window above. Normally, he brought her along for his deliveries, but today, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be. He had extra errands to run before Ava was due to return, and he didn’t want to leave his pup alone in the truck too long.
Ed’s evidence of destruction cleaned up, Brayden moved the truck around to the shed to load up the bookshelf he finished last night for Sophie Grant.
He didn’t need the money from his woodworking projects. Probably one of the reasons he kept his prices competitively low. But he enjoyed the creation process, one his grandpa taught him from a young age. It allowed him to escape reality more than the thousands of miles he’d traveled to get away from it.
Bookshelf loaded and properly protected with heavy quilts, Brayden headed toward the Sunset Ridge Lodge to make the delivery. A smile replaced any unwelcome thoughts as the lodge came into view. Snow covered the grounds and the green metal roof, much as it had when he arrived last March.
More than nine months later, and he was still in Sunset Ridge. So much longer than he said he’d stay, but the accident had rattled him more than his grandpa’s passing.
As Brayden worked to unload the bookshelf onto his dolly, flickers from the event that should’ve stolen his life flashed through his memory. The sharp curve covered in black ice, his truck sliding right through the guardrail as if it were no more than tin foil. The never-ending rolling. The truck bouncing like a battered rubber ball. The seat belt cutting into his shoulder so hard he bled.
He’d squeezed his eyes shut and prayed.
When the truck finally stopped, he was upside down in a shallow creek. He shouldn’t have survived, but he walked away with hardly a scratch.
There had to be a reason he was spared. Something more meaningful than running a multi-million-dollar marketing firm. He thought he might find the answer here in Sunset Ridge, but nothing seemed clear yet. Only that he was running out of time to make up his mind.
Brayden utilized the ramp to the summertime restaurant patio and cut to the left toward the main entrance. Sophie Grant requested the bookshelf for the lodge last month, and he finished it a few days ahead of schedule. With Ava so keen on avoiding him these past couple of weeks, he’d spent extra hours in his shed filling as many orders before Christmas as he could.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sophie’s kind voice echoed off the high ceiling, her eyes widening in anticipation.
“One bookshelf, as requested.”
“I didn’t expect it until January.”
Brayden rolled the dolly via Sophie’s instructions and eased the shelf off. “I’m a little ahead of schedule,” he admitted, shimmying the shelf a few inches from the wall. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas indeed.” Sophie helped unwrap the bookshelf,oohing andaahing as each layer of plastic peeled away. “Brayden, this is beautiful!”
“Glad you like it.”
“Like it? I love it!” She pulled her phone from her pocket and started snapping pictures. “The book club is going to flip.”
The front door closed, drawing Brayden’s attention from behind. He expected a guest or one of the other Whitmore sisters, and was surprised to find Ava, juggling three different sized baskets. He hurried to her side and relieved her of the largest basket, its wobbles matching each cautious step.
“Brayden, what areyoudoing here?”
“A simple thank you would’ve cut it,” he teased, setting the green cellophane-wrapped basket on the coffee table and taking another from Ava.
“Thank you. Just didn’t expect to see you—” But then she spotted the bookcase Sophie was practically petting. “Oh, a delivery?”
“Yeah.”
Ava placed the smallest basket wrapped in silver beside the others as she purposefully looked Brayden up and down. Her raised eyebrow always did him in. Or maybe it was the way her lips lifted in one corner. “You put on pants,” she noted in mock surprise.
“I even took that shower. Mark this day on your calendar.”
Her eyes sparkled with her laugh, or maybe it was the reflection of Christmas lights from the massive tree in the center of the lobby. “I’m impressed.”
There’d been a time when Brayden thought he and Ava might become an item. Their friendship had blossomed, and he worked up the courage to ask her out on a proper date. It took four tries before she finally agreed. But back then, he spent most nights working in his shed until early morning—he blamed the midnight sun—and embarrassingly had fallen asleep until well after the date was over. The next morning, he showed up at the store with coffee and donuts, but Ava wasn’t having any of it.
She insisted they were better off as friends, and the botched date was a reminder of the time she didn’t have for such things. Seemed she thought his falling asleep was excuse to flake, and he couldn’t convince her otherwise. Their friendship never picked up where it left off. If it weren’t for Elsie, Ava probably would’ve stopped talking to him entirely.
