“Miss Ivy. Good morning!” Beatrice chirps from behind the counter. Her eyes are bright like she’s been awake for a while. Gone is the pine cone brooch from yesterday and instead, she has a headband that looks like tree branches in her hair. On anyone else, it’d be the wrong kind of quirky but not Bea. It’s almost like it’d be weird if shewasn’twearing this.
“Are you an early morning gal?” she questions.
“Mostly a sugar gal.” I hold up the blueberry muffin chocolate bar with an OMG expression. The word gal feels funny on my lips.
She nods, approving my chocolate choice. “I took a call from a very persistent man about extending your stay.” Beatrice gives me an opening to explain. “Do we like him?” she asks like we’ve been friends forever.
“Some work stuff came up and it looks like I’m staying for the next week.” I force a weak smile. “And we absolutelydo notlike him.”
Bea nods in a way that saysTeam Ivy. “An extra week with the click-clack-queen herself ? What a treat!” Beatrice squeals without sarcasm. Shestarts ringing up the mound of things I’ve placed on the counter. With each item, she picks it up, evaluates it, and gives me several winks and “I love this” expressions.
“Looking to commemorate your time at the lodge?” a deep voice says from behind me. One I didn’t expect to hear. Holland.
He’s bringing in boxes, probably inventory, and he’s carrying them like they’re full of feathers. Why are there always boxes? A rush of nervous energy fills my empty stomach. I know I’m dragging out the silence. Any longer and it will be awkward.
Come on, brain. Get moving.
“Ah, not really. Apparently, I’m staying another week.” I finally sputter out a reply.
“But what about Salem? Your trip?” Holland asks with sincere concern in his eyes. He sets down the packages from his arms. “The scary sisters… or whatever?” I know we only talked about it last night but I’m a little shocked he remembers. And Holland looks surprised that he asked.
“Jack strikes again. Something came up with a last-minute meeting and it makes sense for me to stay here out west instead of flying out again in a few days.” The explanation streams out of my mouth like a robot. If I say it enough, maybe it would make sense. I try not to sound too dismal.
“So, you’re telling me your ex-boyfriend extended a work trip, right over a long-standing vacation, that you’ve been wanting to take for years… and that’s that? Just like that?” His hands are on his hips, showing the size of his broad chest.
Caught off guard is an understatement. I know my wide eyes give me away.
“None of my business.” Holland puts his hands up.
“You’re not wrong. I’m really surprised my boss let him get away with it, to be honest.” I look down at my feet. “Jack loves to suck the happiness out of anything and everything, and this is no exception.” My voice is flatand I try to hide the unexpected crack at the end.
“Let me give you the employee discount on all these goodies,” Beatrice interrupts, reminding me it isn’t just Holland and me. A normal person would feel uncomfortable, watching this play out, but not Bea.
“No. Absolutely not. This is a work expense and I’m paying full price,” I reassure her. Beatrice grins as she checks me out. It feels great to be defiant this morning.
“So, what’s your plan?” Holland asks.
My plan? I haven’t made it that far. Anxiety buzzes under my skin. I need more of a plan than getting clothes.
“Haven’t really thought about it. Maybe I’ll catch up on Netflix.” I try to make it sound not as sad as it is.
“You can’t stay in your room the whole time. There’s a ton of stuff to do here.” A touch of excitement radiates from his voice. I’m paying a ridiculous amount of attention to his mouth.
I can’t watch this gorgeous man list all the outdoorsy activities that I have zero interest in. It’s too early and I need coffee.
“Let me stop you there. This may be tough to hear but I hate the outdoors,” I interrupt. Holland squints like he’s trying to figure me out. “I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s just not my thing.”
The number of times I’ve tried to explain this. The camping horrors roar back to me and I could gag. If I’m overly antsy in the city, my anxiety is on steroids when I’m out in the middle of nowhere. I wish I had the gene which experienced silence and felt some sort of calm or peace, not crippling questions and scenarios rolling through my brain.
“You aren’t really planning to stay in your room for a week, right?” Holland asks with eyebrows raised.
My silence answers his question.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says and my eyes automatically roll. “Let’s go on an easyhike—”
“There’s nothing you could offer that would make me take that deal.”
“I think there is,” Holland says and the way he says it makes my stomach flip. “We’ll bring Slate.”
