“Fine,” Izzy says. “Consider it dropped. But I am finding you someone to dance with at the very least.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, especially since I know this is as close as Izzy’s going to get to dropping this topic. “Fine. Whatever. But just one dance and nobody handsy.”
She grins, looking entirely too pleased with our deal.
I already regret it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Noah
“That’s three.”
I look up to find Ezra walking out from the back office. “What’s three?”
“Weddings. We have three additional weddings booked for this place, which means we’ve not only recouped the renovation cost, but we’ve profited as well, and we haven’t even had Izzy’s wedding yet.”
My jaw drops. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. And it’s all because of Odette.
She has worked her ass off to make this place what it is. Sure, I did most of the manual labor, but it wouldn’t have become what it is without her guidance. She knew exactly what this place needed to make it a sought-after wedding venue. Now it is.
Ezra’s lips pull up into a rare smile. “With this and the news that the old man is selling us the rink, this is turning out to be a damn good week.”
I’ve tried not to focus on it too much with all the extra work I’ve been doing to make sure the cidery and farm are perfect for Izzy’swedding in a few days, but Stick Taps Community Iceplex is officially happening.
We’ve been talking about it for what feels like forever, and I can’t believe it’s coming to fruition. I’m even more excited about it after my trip to the rink with Odette. The way she lit up when I told her about it and her reassurance that I could do it. Her faith in me. I don’t know, it shook something loose inside of me that’s been building for a long, long time.
“Are you finally going to admit turning this place into a wedding destination was a good idea?” Ezra asks.
I grunt, but he’s right. It was a damn good idea. We now have that extra level of security to do this. And truthfully, this whole thing hasn’t been as painful as I thought it would, though I’m sure a lot of that has to do with Odette.
She actually kind of made the process ... well, fun.
It doesn’t hurt that I thinkshe’sfun too.
I never thought I would be in this position again, but lately I’ve been finding myself thinking about something I haven’t in a long time—a future with someone.
More specifically, a future withher.
I know Odette worries about the curse and wants this to be casual and fun, but I ... I don’t think it is anymore.
Wild, considering I’ve spent the last several years swearing off relationships and any talk of marriage. But those things don’t sound as scary as they once did, and I think that has a whole hell of a lot to do with the dark-haired beauty I can’t seem to stay away from.
I like her.A lot.I like spending time with her and the way she makes me laugh. I like how she calls me on my crap. I like how she isn’t afraid to be herself with me.
I just simply like her, and I don’t want this thing between us to end.
For days I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell Odette how I feel about her. The last thing I want to do is stress her out more than she already is. I can tell she’s still anxious that something will go wrongwith the wedding, even though everything is coming together perfectly. I don’t want to add to that by telling her I broke our number-one rule.
This isn’t just fun for me anymore. This could be the start of something real, and I have no fucking clue how Odette feels about that.
After the wedding,I tell myself. I’ll talk to her after the wedding. Give her time to come down from it all. I know she thinks I’m not going to want to see her or talk to her anymore just because she’s not out at the farm every day, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. At this point, I don’t think I could go a day without seeing her, and fuck if that isn’t a whole other bag to unpack.
“Careful,” Ezra says. “You keep smiling that dopey smile like that and you’re going to be the one renting out the farm next.”
I take the rag I’m using to wipe down the table and throw it at him. It plops loudly against his crisp, powder-blue dress shirt. Ezra and I are pretty different in how we dress for work. He’s usually in slacks and a nice shirt, but I much prefer my jeans and boots.
“Okay, one, gross.” He peels it off himself, leaving behind a wet spot. His usual frown is in place as he throws it onto the table. “Second, I’m just saying. I’ve never seen you so damn happy. It’s nice. I mean, a little weird, but nice.”
