Evie’s Awakening: Love in Holiday Junction, Book Three

by Franklin, Tami

  “Need a hand?” Liam asked, his lips twitching as he reached toward her.

  She took his hand and got to her feet, hastily straightening her skirt and smoothing her hair.

  “Are you all right?” Lou asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied, nodding curtly as her face flamed with embarrassment. “It just took me by surprise.”

  Liam was making a valiant effort not to laugh. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Their bark is worse than their bite. And that one’s bite hasn’t been a problem for a long time.”

  “What is going on in here?” An older man wearing a black chef’s coat and carrying a giant whisk rushed into the room. “Who’s screaming?”

  “It’s nothing, Carl,” Joshua replied. “Our guest here just got a little spooked by old Barnaby.” He waved toward the rug. “Where’s Carla? I’m sure they’d like to get checked in.”

  “She had to run into town for some cleaning supplies,” the man replied, slipping the whisk into his back pocket. “I’ll take care of it. Come on over to the desk, Ms. . . .”

  “Hart,” she replied, shaking his offered hand. “Evie Hart. And Grayson Sparks.”

  “Right.” He nodded, pulling a large book out from a drawer in the desk. “Well, you’re the only customers we have right now, so you get the presidential suite.”

  “Oh, no,” Evie said quickly, her cheeks heating. “We’ll need two rooms, please.”

  She was vaguely aware of Gray arching a brow, but ignored it. This was a business trip, and Gray? Well, Gray was beginning to expect things that Evie wasn’t ready to give, to be honest. She’d been putting him off for months, and maybe that said more about their relationship than anything else.

  “Of course,” Carl said without missing a beat. “Then Mr. Sparks will have the room down the hall. It’s very nice as well.” The man smiled, his brown eyes sparkling and warm, golden skin creasing around his mouth.

  “Well, it looks like you’re taken care of,” Liam said. “I guess we’ll see you both at the Chamber of Commerce meeting tomorrow afternoon, then. If you need anything else, you have my number.”

  “Carl, they can use the Chevy, right?” Joshua asked.

  “Of course,” he replied. “It’s all gassed up and ready to go. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of our guests.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Gray said with a charming smile. “Thanks for picking us up and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  Liam nodded at him, then Evie, before the three of them headed out of the Inn and back to their car. She let out a long, slow breath, not even realizing how tense she’d been since she first stepped off the plane.

  “Let me show you to your rooms,” Carl said, waving them toward the stairs. “My son will get the bags. Don’t worry about them.”

  He led them to the third floor of the building, leaving Gray at the first door on the right, then taking Evie to the room at the end of the hall. It, too, had an amazing view of the valley, as well as an en suite with a clawfoot tub and a four-poster bed with a thick mattress, piled with pillows and what appeared to be a handmade quilt. A deer (or maybe elk?) head was mounted above the bed, antlers arching up nearly to the ceiling, and Evie looked away, swallowing nervously.

  “Thank you, Carl,” she said. “It’s a lovely room.”

  The man preened. “Breakfast is from seven to eleven,” he said. “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen. Or Carla should be back shortly. When you’re ready, I’ll show you the car so you can get around town on your own.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave her a little salute and left, closing the door behind him.

  All Evie wanted to do was crawl into that big, comfortable bed and sleep for about ten hours. Instead, she sat on the sofa across the room and typed out a text to her father.

  Arrived safely. Meeting with the Chamber of Commerce tomorrow to get the lay of the land.

  It took less than a minute for him to respond.

  Don’t underestimate them. Keep your guard up. We can’t afford any further delays.

  Evie made a face at her phone. Sometimes her father had a talent for stating the obvious.

  I’m not an idiot, she typed, then deleted.

  Oh, really? Thanks for the encouragement. Delete.

  Finally, with a heavy sigh, she simply sent, I’m on it.

  She looked up and caught sight of the deer head, staring down at her with shining brown eyes. “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  Her phone buzzed with another text. This one from Gray. I’m starving. Don’t let me waste away in this log cabin where good taste goes to die. Save me!!

  Evie went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and clean up for dinner.

  She had a feeling her sleepless nights were only beginning.

  Evie woke with a start, unsure what dragged her out of her dreams. Checking her phone, she saw it was only five-thirty in the morning. She groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. She could try to go back to sleep, but knew it would be a fruitless attempt. Once she was awake, she was awake, and it was either lie there and stare at the ceiling—or the deer head above her bed—or get an early start on her day.

  Throwing off her covers, she decided for the latter and fumbled in her bag for a sweatshirt, pulling it over her tank top and leggings. She slipped on her running shoes and decided to go in search of coffee, but halfway down the stairs, she began to rethink that goal. Raised voices floated up from the main floor, and she realized that was what had wakened her.

  Evie hesitated, her caffeine craving warring with her unwillingness to intrude, but curiosity got the better of her and she crept quietly down the stairs. A man and woman were arguing, their voices drifting into the lobby from a doorway beyond.

  “It doesn’t make a difference,” the woman said.

  “Don’t tell me it doesn’t make a difference,” the man replied, his voice getting louder. “It makes all the difference!”

  And before Evie realized what was happening, Carl stormed through the doorway and caught sight of her.

  “You!” he exclaimed, holding up a white bag as he stalked toward Evie. “What does this say to you?”

  “Uh.” Evie examined the bag he thrust before her face. “Cocoa powder?”

  “Exactly!” He whirled as a woman came through the doorway behind him. “Cocoa powder. Plain, old, cocoa powder, when my muffins require—have always required—organic cacao powder!”

  The woman rolled her eyes. She was petite, her brown skin a few shades lighter than Carl’s, her glossy, black hair caught up by a barrette in front, the rest brushing her shoulders. She wore a flowered blouse and pair of slim, black pants; a stack of silver bangles clinking on her left arm.

  “Sorry,” she said to Evie. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

  “She’s the one who will be sorry,” Carl said, still waving the bag. “When she tastes the inferior muffins made with this garbage!”

  “The cacao was delayed,” the woman said in a soothing voice. “That was all they had at Wu’s.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” He tossed the cocoa powder onto the check-in desk. “I can’t use that!”

  “How about French toast instead of muffins?” she suggested.

  The man harrumphed, but seemed to consider it. “What do you think?” he asked Evie. And really, why was she even in this conversation?

  She smiled, fidgeting with the edge of her sweatshirt. “I love French toast.”

  “See? Problem solved,” the woman said with a cheerful smile. Then, to Evie’s surprise, she kissed Carl on the cheek. “Better get to it if breakfast is going to be on time.”

  Carl made a point of dropping the cocoa powder into the trash can behind the desk, but then he kissed the woman before he left the room.

  “You must be Ms. Hart?” The woman said, extending her hand. “We didn’t get to meet when you checked in. I’m Carla Reyes.”

  “Oh.” She glanced at the doorway as th
e dots connected. “Reyes. You’re Carl’s wife?”

  Her lips quirked. “That I am,” she replied. “I know. Carl and Carla. It’s a little strange, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. Fortunately for our children, we opted not to carry on the tradition.” She smiled, dark eyes twinkling.

  Evie couldn’t keep from smiling back. The woman gave off such a comforting aura. Soothing. “You have children?”

  “Four,” Carla replied. “You’ll see two of our boys around. They’re in high school, but help out around here when they can. Our oldest boy lives in Seattle. And our daughter, Neveah owns the auto repair shop in town.”

  “Really?” Evie took in the woman’s unlined skin and jet-black hair. “You don’t seem old enough to have grown children.”

  “Oh, thanks, but Carl and I have been married almost thirty years.” She leaned in, glancing at the doorway before lowering her voice. “You’ll have to excuse him. When he’s cooking, he gets a bit—” She searched for the right word. “—Intense.”

  Evie’s hair swung forward and she shoved it back. “He definitely seems passionate about cooking.”

  Carla laughed. “Yes, I think you could say that.” She let out a little sigh and tipped her head. “Now, is there something I can get you? Breakfast won’t be served for another hour or so, but some coffee perhaps?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  Carla led her through the doorway to a dining room—not large, but comfortable, with a rustic wooden table and padded chairs. Evie could see hints of a kitchen through a swinging door on the far wall, could hear Carl humming as he rattled dishes and chopped ingredients. The coffee and cups were set out on a buffet to her right, and a huge mirror above it reflected light from the wrought iron chandelier overhead.

  “Help yourself,” Carla said, “and make yourself at home. You’re welcome to—”

  “Carla!” Carl shouted from the kitchen, cutting her off. “Where is my Madagascar vanilla?”

  “In the third cabinet!” she shouted back, nearly making Evie drop her cup.

  “I don’t see it!”

  “Bottom shelf!”

  “It’s not here!”

  “Look behind the cinnamon!”

  “It’s not here!” He pushed through the swinging door, a smudge of flour on his cheek, and panic in his eyes. “I can’t make French toast without Madagascar vanilla.”

  Carla arched a brow, her hands on her hips. “If it’s where I said . . .”

  “You get the remote tonight from eight to ten.”

  “All night,” she said quickly.

  He narrowed his eyes, considering. “Done. But no cheesy romances.”

  Carla folded her arms. “Then I guess you can find your own vanilla,” she said loftily.

  Evie felt like she was watching a very strange tennis match. The two stared at each other for a long moment, then Carl huffed.

  “Fine.”

  Carla flounced through the door, and Evie shifted from one foot to the other, sipping her coffee. She searched for something to say, but right as she opened her mouth to comment on the delicious coffee, Carla swept back in, the container of vanilla held up victoriously in one hand.

  Carl’s mouth dropped open. “Where was it?”

  “Where do you think?” she asked with a smirk.

  Carl took the vanilla, kissed her, and headed back into the kitchen without another word.

  Gray stumbled into the dining room, rumpled and bleary. “What in the world is going on?”

  Evie pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh, but when Carla met her gaze and snorted, she lost the battle.

  “What?” Gray asked, confused.

  The two women had just about contained their laughter when—

  “Carla, where’s my Indonesian nutmeg?”

  And it started all over again.

  Evie had a feeling her trip to Holiday Junction was going to be a bit different than she expected.

  * * *

  Liam shrugged into his fleece-lined jacket and walked out of his house into the brisk morning, just as the sun peeked over the horizon in a wash of pink and orange. Gravel crunched under his work boots as he walked to the barn, catching a yawn in his glove-clad fist.

  The horses were already out in the pasture, which meant Aaron was early today. The boy had been helping Liam since he was fifteen. That was, what, almost two years ago now, he realized. Before that, Aaron’s older sister, Neve had been Liam’s hired hand, passed down when he bought the house from his parents, along with the twenty acres it sat on.

  Liam glanced in the direction of the Inn. He couldn’t see it through the trees, even though it shared a border with his own property. The Reyes family had been good neighbors ever since they bought it, and Liam didn’t think that only because their son helped him care for his horses.

  Of course, thoughts of Carl and Carla Reyes and of the Inn, inevitably led to thoughts of Evie Hart and that slimy attorney of hers. Liam didn’t like that they were in Holiday Junction, didn’t trust their motives for one minute, but he could hardly run them out of town on a rail, so he had to make the best of the situation.

  And he’d do what he had to do to figure out their real purpose, and beat them at their own game.

  He yanked open the barn door, and the familiar warm scent of horse and hay greeted him, along with the sound of Aaron, singing quietly as he mucked out one of the stalls. Liam walked up behind him, smiling to himself as the boy sang into the handle of the pitchfork. Tall and lanky as only a teenage boy who has yet to grow into his limbs could be, Aaron kicked out awkwardly as he belted out the chorus, his black hair flopping as he bounced around. Reaching out, Liam plucked one of the ear buds out of his ear and Aaron let out a shriek, whirling as the pitchfork clattered to the concrete floor.

  Liam laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your performance.”

  Aaron caught his breath and picked up the tool. “Ha ha,” he muttered, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m almost done here. I’ve already washed the water buckets if you want to fill them and do the grain.”

  Liam nodded, still chuckling under his breath, and crossed to the back wall to scoop up the grain and drag over the hose. “You must have gotten an early start.”

  “Yeah.” Aaron forked up the last of the manure and tossed it into the wheelbarrow before answering. “I kind of wanted to talk to you.”

  Liam measured out grain into Domino’s bucket, then moved to Fiona’s. “Oh yeah? About what?”

  Aaron propped the pitchfork against the wall. “You know that lady staying at the Inn. The one from New York?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I overheard her and that lawyer talking this morning.”

  Liam stiffened, and he turned to Aaron, giving him his full attention. “What did she say?”

  “I couldn’t hear it all,” he replied with a shrug. “Mom would have killed me if she knew I was eavesdropping, you know? She’s big on respecting the customers, or whatever.”

  Liam huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, imagine that.”

  Aaron shrugged. “I figure if they’re in the dining room, that’s a public space so . . .” He scuffed his boot, kicking up some shavings. “Anyway, the lady? She seemed worried. She kept saying she wasn’t sure if they could do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “But then the lawyer said it was in the bag. That all of this was a PR junket? They’d do some meetings and make some speeches and reassure everyone that everything was going to be fine and it’d be easy.”

  Liam frowned, considering his words. “So they don’t plan on working out a solution at all,” he said, half to himself. It wasn’t a surprise, really. He hardly thought the VP of Hart Enterprises would come to town and roll over, but it left him on edge, wondering what exactly they had in mind.

  “I guess not,” Aaron said. “He said the lady—Ms. Hart—should do what she does best and leave the rest to
him.”

  “Do what she does best?” Liam pulled off his glove and ran a hand through his hair. “Wonder what he means by that.”

  “I have no idea,” the boy replied, “but I thought I should let you know.” He hoisted the wheelbarrow and backed out of the stall. “I should get finished up so I can go to school,” he said.

  “Thanks, Aaron.”

  “No problem.” He stopped in the doorway. “I can keep an eye on things, you know, with the New Yorkers, if you want.”

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Liam replied.

  Aaron grinned, his teeth sparkling white against his brown skin. “I only get in trouble if I get caught,” he said. “And I never get caught.”

  Liam laughed as the boy went outside to dump the wheelbarrow. He could use Aaron’s eavesdropping, if he was completely honest. But he could use some other help as well. After hesitating only a moment, he pulled out his phone.

  “Hey, it’s Liam Durant,” he said when the call connected. “I have a job for you.”

  * * *

  Evie checked her GPS as Gray pulled into an empty parking spot at the curb, next to a gigantic chocolate bunny wearing a t-shirt reading: Try our Chubby Bunny Sundae.

  “This must be the place,” she said, getting out of the car.

  Gray glanced down the street, his eyes darting around in that assessing way of his. Easter was still a few weeks off, but Holiday Junction was already in the spirit. Twinkle lights in pink, blue, purple, and green wove through the trees all along the street, and painted Easter eggs hung from ribbons on each of the historic-looking street lamps. Every window display echoed the theme—with pastel colors, grass and flowers, eggs and chocolate bunnies, and of course more religious representations of the holiday as well. A banner hung over Main Street near the Town Square advertising the upcoming Easter egg hunt, and then there was the fifteen-foot-tall wooden chocolate bunny currently staring down at Evie and Gray.