CHAPTER 1
Mina
Blood whooshed in my ears, my heart thundering against my ribs.
This was it.
Inhaling a deep breath, I tried—and failed—to steady my hand as I lifted a silver key to insert it into the back door lock of what would be the expansion to my little coffeeshop, The Cozy Cup. After months of planning and waiting, it was finally mine.
No thanks to the ridiculous Miranda Benning. Someone needed to take her real estate license away. I don’t know how she sold any properties. She was a sneaky, underhanded, lying witch. Thank goodness for Claire, my best friend and realtor. She’d read through every iteration of the contract to make sure Miranda didn’t try to slip in a clause somewhere that wasn’t agreed upon. It only happened once, early in the process, but it was enough to keep us on our toes.
But it was over, and I didn’t have to deal with her anymore. I wouldn’t have at all if it weren’t for the fact that Ineededthis building. Since it was already attached to my coffeeshop, it was perfect for my expansion plans. I could stay open for most of the renovation and not have to move all my equipment to another location.
The key scraped the doorknob as I inserted it. With a quick twist, the lock clicked, and I opened the door.
Mustiness and the smell of years of dirt hit me as I stepped inside.
Wrinkling my nose, I shut the door, then wandered deeper into the back room. I felt along the wall for the switches I remembered seeing when I toured the building, flipping them on when I found them.
Bright, fluorescent light flooded the space, giving the dingy interior no place to hide.
My shoulders slumped at the sight that greeted me. Mr. Shuman hadn’t emptied the building’s contents like he said he would.
At least, not back here, anyway.
Old paintings and rusted signs lined one wall. I hoped there were no more in the front of the store or in the basement. This place had been an antique store before Shuman retired late last year and decided to sell.
My gaze moved over the rest of the space. It really wasn’t too cluttered. Other than the paintings and signs, there was only a dusty desk in one corner. But it was covered in suspicious little brown pellets and bits of paper.
Great. A mouse problem.
I heaved a sigh. First thing on the list after I met with the contractor today was to hire an exterminator and make sure there weren’t any four-legged friends currently in residence. Or six-legged ones, for that matter. The health inspector would not like that, and it would have to be rectified before any work occurred. Once we knocked down the wall to connect the two spaces, anything over here was fair game for the coffeeshop.
Walking through the back room, I headed for the swinging door that led to the main store, flipping light switches on as I passed through.
A bit of weight lifted off my shoulders when I saw that most of the displays were empty. I would have preferred for everything to be gone, but hauling out display cases and a few paintings was much better than removing all the small antiques and furniture that had been here just a few months ago.
But still, item two on the agenda was to get a dumpster and to have a small sidewalk sale with all this stuff. While the display cases were in decent shape, I couldn’t use them. It might have actually been better if he’d left the furniture. At least some of that had been tables and chairs.
I wandered closer to the art leaning against the wall as one particular piece caught my eye. It fit the nature theme I wanted to put in the café. I’d have to leaf through all the prints and canvases Shuman left behind and see what I could use.
The soft creak of the back door’s hinges, then the thud of a heavy boot hitting the pine floor of the back room, brought my head up. It sounded like the contractor had arrived.
Changing direction, I headed for the rear of the store to greet Les Decker, the local contractor I’d hired for the renovations. He’d done the coffeeshop renovations when I opened five years ago, so when I decided to expand, he was one of the first people I called.
But it was not Les who stepped through the swinging door.
My eyebrows drew together, and my step faltered as I stared warily at the tall, fit, and rather handsome man holding a storage clipboard and a pen.
“May I help you?” I clutched the building key in my fist, turning it so it stuck out like a poker. I was not above stabbing him if he tried anything funny. I would give zero fudgesicles about marring his pretty face.
A wide smile brightened his face, and a touch of amusement entered his eyes under the swath of wavy, golden brown hair hanging down on his forehead. He raised a hand. “I’m LukeDecker, Les’s son. You can put the claws away.” He tipped a finger toward my hand and the key clutched between my knuckles.
Heat suffused my cheeks. I knew they were probably growing red, and I hoped my makeup could hide that fact.
I let my fingers relax and straightened my spine, bringing me to my full five-foot-three height. “This might be Parker’s Landing, but I’m still a woman alone. Excuse me for defending myself.”
Some of the amusement faded from his expression. His head bobbed once. “My apologies. Let’s start again.” He held out a hand. “I’m Luke. It’s nice to meet you.”
