by Meg Easton
Eli picked up a box from the stack. “I can move these out of the way.”
“Nah,” Whitney said. “There’s no good place to move them. Grab hold of my ankle.” She planted her right leg right against a box and lifted her left leg out behind her, balancing on her right. Eli gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her leg and said, “Ankle.”
He grabbed her ankle with both hands and she leaned forward, no longer worried about her center of gravity making her fall if she reached too far. “Lower me in further,” she said, her breath coming out in a whoosh as she leaned over boxes. Eli moved forward with her ankle, allowing her to reach far enough to grab the box. “Got it! Reel me in!”
Eli slowly pulled her leg backward, and she set the box down on the stack in front of her. When she was mostly upright, he released her ankle, but she stepped down on a wayward carnival rubber ducky and lost her balance, falling right into Eli.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, wrapping his hands around her waist to steady her.
Her hands had landed on his strong chest, and his familiar scents of fabric softener and deodorant hit her. But now there was another scent, too— something musky and amazing that zinged through her, making her heart race while feeling lightheaded. Without thinking first, she said as her hands rested on his chest, “Yep. Definitely not still eighteen.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, heat rushed up her body and she was sure that her face and neck were even redder than her hair. His crooked smile turned into a full ear to ear one, which made her more embarrassed.
She picked up her clipboard and fanned herself, trying to cool the blush. “When did it get so hot in here? Is it hot in here? I think it’s hot.”
“No, that’s just you.”
Whitney laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and totes in the room. In her best announcer voice, she said, “And the cheesiest line of the day goes to... Eli Treanor!”
Eli joined her laughing. “Blast from the past right there. I had forgotten we used to say that.”
Whitney had forgotten how much she had missed just hanging out with Eli. She cleared her throat. “So, did you volunteer to help with the business while your dad recovered?”
“Ha. No. Volunteer to come remind my dad daily how disappointed in me he is? No.”
Right. He was only here to put in his time until he could race away, like when he was in high school. Just like before, the attraction was there any moment she spent with him. But she wasn’t going to let a little thing like attraction punch holes in her carefully crafted walls. If there was anyone in the world who was a pro at keeping things at a friend level when his magnetism was pulling her in more, it was Whitney Brennan. She didn’t let emotions or a certain person’s attractiveness sway her. Logic was her best friend. It saved her every time.
She looked down at her watch and gasped. “I had no idea we’d been here so long,” she said as she rushed back to the front and grabbed her blazer. “I’ve got to get back to the paper to finish my articles and get started on layouts. My employees are going to be there any second now, and I haven’t even gotten my parts started.”
“And my shift manager is leaving in twenty. I’ve got to go take her place.”
“We’ll get together soon to plan,” she said as she locked the door and waved a goodbye to a man who was much too attractive for her own good. She was grateful for the cooler temperatures as she rushed the direction of City Hall to return the key.
Chapter Six
When Eli got back to Treanor’s Outdoor Rentals, the place was crowded with several families who had come at the same time. He apologized to Grace for not getting back to help out sooner, and the two of them worked together to get most of them helped before Grace had to skip out. It took a good thirty minutes after she left to get the last customer out the door with their paddle boards and oars.
It had been exhilarating having so many customers in at the same time, and he wished it was like that all the time. He grabbed a notepad and pen from the office, and started brainstorming ideas to get more customers while he was wandering around the store, straightening the For Sale racks of swim suits, jackets, hats, sunglasses, and inflatable water toys.
Most tourists stayed in either the same hotel he was staying in, Home Suite Home, or at All Nestled Inn, the other hotel in town. Maybe he could get both of them to let him put up a display that would get visitors dying to try out the local outdoor activities to head to Treanor’s. He should advertise the discount they had for locals more, too. The locals lived right in the middle of this beautiful outdoors that surrounded them. It shouldn’t be something that only the tourists enjoyed. That’s where he would be right now if he weren’t working— outside using some of this equipment. Playing on the lake or in the mountains or biking on the trails.
Maybe he could put an ad in the Nestled Hollow Gazette. If things were like they used to be— and he was sure they were— then practically every home in Nestled Hollow had a subscription to the paper. A lot of people would often buy a second copy just so they could save an article that had theirs or a loved one’s name and picture in it. It would be the perfect place to advertise to the locals.
The excitement of moving a business forward had apparently made him think of TeamUp, because before he even realized he’d thought of it, his phone was in his hand, calling Ben. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” Eli said. “I didn’t actually think you’d be able to answer. Don’t you have a group today?” He steered one of the tandem bikes from the showroom floor and drove it out front so people could see it when they drove by.
“They’re getting snacks and glaring at each other right now.”
“That group of managers from Mauldin Metrics?”
“Yep. Never seen a group of people more competitive with each other. No, wait. Remember the human resource department from Cropton Property Management? So we’ve had it this bad before.”
Eli laughed and headed back into the store to grab a paddle board. Some groups came to them in pretty dysfunctional shape. It was one of the main reasons why companies would pay to have them spend a day or two or five at TeamUp. “Don’t worry. By time you’re done with them, they’ll be doing as great as Cropton was at the end, too.”
“Travis is a good kid, but he’s much more suited to being our runner. He doesn’t have your gift for pulling people together. This is going to be a tough one. Oh, by the way, StylesTech couldn’t say enough good about you.”
“Stop. You’re making me homesick.” He leaned the paddle board against the building, just behind the bike.
“You’re home. You can’t be homesick.”
“You know Sacramento is home much more than this place ever was.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you’re having a grand time.”
“The best.” Eli didn’t even need to use a sarcastic tone. Ben would understand even without it. He grabbed the smaller rolling rack of life jackets and put them out front, too.
“I meant what I said about dating—I want you coming back heartbroken. When was the last time you were? Not since I’ve known you. It’s good for the soul, I hear.”
Like he was going to let himself go home broken-hearted. He didn’t think he could take getting his heart broken by the same girl twice. “What I’m hearing is that the California sun is doing some damage to your senses.”
Ben laughed a booming laugh. “I’m just saying. Oh! Gotta go. Looks like someone might start throwing individually wrapped packages of Cheeze-Its and Rice Krispy Treats if I don’t get these guys separated and doing something constructive.”
“Good luck,” Eli said, then hung up and put his phone in his pocket.
He spent the next hour crafting a sandwich board that read “Rent Me” to put outside by the equipment, and looking up every time a customer walked through the door, hoping it was Whitney. Which was stupid, because he didn’t want to see her. He’d been in love with her for so long, getting ove
r her had hurt. Okay, if he was being honest, he hadn’t ever gotten over her, so it all still hurt. He had enough flaws to know that he wasn’t the right person for her, but that wasn’t enough to stop his heart, apparently.
He pulled out his phone and started a text to her. Then, without sending it, he put his phone back in his pocket. She deserved better than him.
Whenever no customers were in the shop, he went back to the bikes, checking the tire pressure, pumping them up when needed, and greasing the chains. It was something he’d done so often, though, it didn’t take much brainpower, leaving his mind free to think about Whitney. About her infectious smile. The way she made him laugh. Holding onto her ankle and working as a team to get that unreachable box. He laughed out loud, all alone in the store, when he realized they’d never actually opened that box. Then he thought about how it had felt to have her hands on his chest and his hands on her waist when she fell into him. About the look on her face. She’d felt something too, he was certain.
The phone was back in his hand. They had a responsibility to meet to discuss the decorations. They had a job to do. He wasn’t texting her because he wanted to date her. This was strictly business.
Planning, Phase II. Tomorrow?
He backspaced over the text and tried again.
We’ve got two weeks until Fall Market, right? We better get crackin’.
Awful. He deleted again.
Nothing spells “Success in Fall Market decoration planning” quite like Keetch’s. (And the cheesiest line of the day goes to...) Lunch tomorrow?
Still not perfect. He made himself punch the send button with his pointer finger before he could delete and try again though.
There. He was doing the same thing he did in high school— taking her places filled with people and noise and chaos, so she wouldn’t have a clue he was interested in anything more than living in the friend zone.
Chapter Seven
Whitney stood at one end of the printing press in the room connected to the office. In a pinch, she could probably run the presses herself, but Tony had been doing it since the dawn of time, and knew everything about running and maintaining the machines. And he never missed a day. He had even been around when the very first edition of the paper had been printed, back when Mr. Annesley had started the Nestled Hollow Gazette.
As she waited for the machines to spin to life, she pulled out her phone to tell Brooke about the storage shed today, and then remembered that she was on a plane. Brooke being gone was just a little thing— she’d be back eventually. But it scared her that she had gotten to the point with Brooke where she wanted to call her to tell her about something going on in her life. Everyone always left. It wasn’t worth getting close to anyone— that only came with hurt. And Brooke always left as often as most people did their laundry, so she shouldn’t want to be sharing anything with her. It was all because Eli had gotten her to let her guard down. At least she caught herself quickly enough.
She didn’t need to be here for this part of the newspaper creation process— Tony was good about getting the papers to the cadre of twelve to fifteen-year-olds who showed up on bikes and delivered the papers everywhere in town. But she came in here for the printing every single time because it spoke to her soul. There was something about the whirring of the roll of paper being sent through the printers, the rhythmic click of the papers being cut, and the chonk chonk thrip of the papers being folded that made everything they’d written real. Concrete.
A beep sounded that wasn’t from the machines. She pulled her cell phone out and saw a text from Eli, asking to meet her at Keetch’s for lunch tomorrow.
Part of her wanted to reply with something joking, like As long as their A/C is working. ;)
But no. She wasn’t going to willingly walk into danger. She typed in Sure. 1:00? and touched send.
Guard: fully raised.
Whitney hated cooking at her apartment unless she had people over. The way she saw it, her apartment served three purposes: sleeping, getting ready for the day, and having people over. If it didn’t fit into one of those three, she wasn’t interested in being there. Which meant she ate at places in town a lot. She ate at Keetch’s a lot, in fact. She’d made plenty of memories in this place over the past twelve years. Yet the moment she walked in and saw Eli at their normal table right by the front windows, all the memories of this place that she could think of involved him.
She straightened her blazer to give herself a chance to peek down at her shirt which read Be BOLD and give ‘em Helvetica, like seeing it would make her feel it more. Guard. Fully. Raised, she reminded herself in her fiercest voice. She took a deep breath, until she could feel in her bones that this was a business lunch only, and then went to the table.
“Hello, Eli.” She even gave him a warm, professional smile as she slid into the other seat at the table.
“Hi, Whitney.” He gave her his crooked, mischievous smile.
One of the teenaged waitresses came over just then, Christy, and said “What can I get for you?”
Whitney thought for a moment, and said, “Let’s do the bacon burger and fries today.”
As Christy was writing, she said out loud, “Bacon cheeseburger, no onion or pickle, fries, and a water. And for you, sir?”
The faintest amused smile quirked the side of Eli’s mouth, and he said, “The same for me, except with extra pickles.” He handed Christy the two menus that neither of them had touched.
Whitney pulled a manila folder out of her bag and opened it on the table. “Here’s the list of items we found in the storage shed. And oh— I went back to the storage shed and looked in those last few boxes that we didn’t check before we left. They were filled with garlands of fall leaves, so that could be helpful. I’ve added them to the list. And I printed out several black and white copies of a picture I took of Main Street a while ago and brought sharpies, so we can draw right on them to get a better idea of how it will look.”
“So we’re going straight into the planning, then,” Eli said.
Whitney didn’t let herself take the slightest moment to try to interpret the look on his face. “That’s what we’re here for, right? We both have businesses to run and the Fall Market is in two short weeks. Saturdays are generally busy days, and I figure neither of us have time to waste.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get to it.”
By the time their food arrived, they had already drawn on three of the copies of Main Street. One had fall-colored buntings hung beneath the windows on each of the buildings, with fall garlands wrapped around the guard rails of the pedestrian bridges. One had the six archways they’d found placed right at both openings of each of the pedestrian bridges, with the fall garlands draped over them, with pumpkins and bundles of dried cornstalks placed in groups at several locations. And one had bales of hay placed in groups, with fall fabric on top so people could sit and socialize.
They both picked up their burgers and took a bite, staring at the drawings, thinking in silence. Whitney picked up the list of items that were in the storage unit, and read through it again as she munched on fries. Eventually, she said, “The problem is, there aren’t many decorations for the Fall Market. It’s never been done well. There’s some money in the budget to buy new things, but not much.”
“Do you already have something in mind to buy?” Eli said as he folded his paper napkin, then turned it over and made more folds.
Whitney shrugged. “A giant wreath for the bell tower? I don’t know.”
“The problem is,” Eli said, still messing with his napkin while Whitney looked at the list, hoping something would eventually pop out at her, “everything we’ve come up with is generic. These decorations could go in any town across America. They aren’t specific to Nestled Hollow.”
Then he held the paper napkin out to Whitney— folded into the shape of a swan, with the Keetch’s Burgers and Shakes logo perfectly centered on the side— and her breath caught in her throat. She cupped her palms, and he placed it right
in the middle of them, her heart racing. Then she carefully set it on the table and ran a finger down the neck of the swan, making sure not to bend the napkin. “I kept the first one of these you ever gave me.” Eli’s gaze whipped from the swan to her face, but Whitney just kept staring at the swan. “I put it on my dresser, front and center, and it stayed there for a good year and a half. It didn’t survive the move into my college dorm, but I still couldn’t bring myself to throw it out until I moved back here.”
She looked up at him, but couldn’t read the expression on his face before he cleared his throat and turned to look out the front window. She looked out the window, too, and tried to get her attention back on the project.
“We aren’t going to figure this out in here. We need to go up there.” Eli held his arm out, palm up, toward the ski lift that went from the edge of town, just a few blocks away, and rose up the mountain. The entire mountainside had been turning brilliant shades of yellows, oranges, and reds over the past week. “We can ride the ski lift to the top, and be right in the middle of fall while overlooking the entire town, and I bet we’d get some inspiration that would be more unique to Nestled Hollow. You can bring your camera— you’d get some great shots of the town you could probably use for a story.”
Whitney glanced down at the swan, then back at the striking mountain that was practically kissing the town’s back door, then down at the pictures of Main Street that they’d drawn on. She wasn’t happy with anything they’d come up with so far, and it suddenly felt like all the answers were up there. She looked over at Eli and grinned. “Let’s do it.”
“After church tomorrow? I’ll pack a picnic dinner, if you’ll bring a blanket. I doubt the Home Suite Home would appreciate me bringing the one off the bed there.”