She took a breath, like she refused to be redirected by my nonsense. “I, um— I brought you something. Well, technically the Magnolia Ladies sent it, but they used my oven, so I’m taking partial credit.”
She held out the plate. I stepped closer, the scent of chocolate and sugar hitting me like a memory of better days.
“Brownies?” Trigger guessed, drifting closer.
She shot him a look. “For thegroup,yes. Not for your hollow legs alone.”
“Ouch,” he said, hand to his chest. “Nora, that hurts.”
“Maybe it’ll slow you down,” she murmured, then looked back at me. “They said you’re working yourselves into the ground. So. Sugar break.”
I reached for the plate, careful not to brush her fingers.
“Thank you,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You’re… neighbors now. And I do enjoy not having my shelves vibrate off the wall, so I figure bribery is in order.”
“See?” Trigger said. “She likes us.”
“I like that you’re investing in Eagle River,” she corrected. Then, with more steel in her voice than I’d heard yesterday, “Don’t make me regret it.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“We won’t,” I said. “You have my word.”
Her gaze held mine for a beat. Those green eyes were sharp today, not startled. Guarded, but not running.
Saint appeared at my shoulder. “Nora, do you want to seethe renovations? We’re in the ‘before’ stage right now. The ‘during’ is gonna be impressive. The ‘after’ will knock your socks off.”
She huffed out a laugh. “That sounds… structurally unsafe for my feet, but sure. Five minutes. I have story time at one.”
She stepped fully inside, and just like that, it wasn’t just a bar anymore. It was a place. A future.
“Watch your step,” I warned, gesturing at the warped floorboards. “Until we fix that, this side’s a twisted ankle waiting to happen.”
“Duly noted.” She picked her way around a bucket, then glanced over her shoulder. “You know the Magnolia Ladies are already telling everyone in town what color they think you’re painting the walls, right?”
Trigger groaned. “Please tell me they didn’t say beige.”
“They said ‘a nice cheerful peach,’” Nora said.
Every man in the room went still.
“Peach,” Havoc repeated slowly, like it was an insult.
Saint shuddered. “I did not survive three deployments to drink beer in a peach bar.”
Nora smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. “Then you’d better pick something before they do it for you.”
I watched her as the guys bantered, Saint pointing out where he wanted to knock down a wall, Trigger dramatically describing his future “corner of glory” where the jukebox would go, Havoc complaining about all of it and getting ignored.
She asked questions.
Real ones.
ABOUT business licenses and opening dates, about where people would sit, about whether they’d serve food or just drinks. Her voice was soft but steady, and when Triggergot too ridiculous, she cut him off with a single raised eyebrow that could have made a drill sergeant proud.
