CHAPTER THREE

Stella

I shouldn't have stayed out so late last night. Today has been a long one. I toss the dirty wipe into the trash and roll my head to relieve the tension that's building in my shoulders. It's amazing how dusty this place got in just a matter of a few months. I've spent the entire day wiping it down, and my friend is on his way over to take a look around and do some measurements so he can build me a few shelves for the walls along the back of the store. The rest of the books will find a home in the random bookshelves and old cabinets I've been gathering from local garage sales and a few antique shops. For now, those items are sitting at my dad's house waiting for me to get this place ready.

My hand presses firmly into the tight muscles of my shoulder as I look out onto the dark street in front of the shop. Most places are closing, but the brewery next door is just getting started. Saturday night seems to be their biggest night and the crowd of people standing around outside is growing by the minute. I hear the roar of a motorcycle and watch as one pulls up to the curb outside. The driver is dressed in dark jeans, heavy black boots and a black hoody. His helmet matches his bike and I keep my eyes on him as he steps off and releases the clip beneath his chin.

I try to look away, but I can't bring myself to when I see Byron's head emerge from beneath the helmet. His sandy blonde hair is messed and his face is serious just like always, but I'm still drawn to him. His large hands reach into his front pocket and pull out a beanie. He slides the cap over his head and turns around to face my direction. Even if I had thought to hide, it would be too late now. His blue eyes meet mine and hold onto my stare, but the moment is over quickly as he seems to turn his attention to something beyond my view.

I watch him watching someone else. The knock on the door makes me jump. "Hey Justin," I say as I catch a glimpse of my friend through the small glass pane of the backdoor. I let him in. When I chance one more look in Byron's direction as we make our way back, he's already gone.

"Hey." Justin rolls up his sleeves and takes a look around my shop. I'm nervous not for the first time. Signing this lease was a big step, and I feel a lot of pressure to make it work.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"It's a great place," he tells me as he slowly makes his way to the back wall. "What kind of store was this before?"

"A clothing store of some kind. I think she sold custom dresses." I don't really know much about it, but Carly's Custom Clothing was the name I had removed from the front door and there were three boxes of beautiful dresses left in the back room.

"That's cool," Justin says as he motions to the front window. "This whole strip has a vintage feel to it. The brewery next door actually made the paper for being one of the top ten in California."

"I didn't know that. The owner is super chill. He invited me over to have some beer on the house after work yesterday." I make my way over to where he's standing.

"Owners," he says as he pulls a measuring tape from his back pocket.

"Owners?"

"Yea," he says, handing me the end of the measuring tape. "Owners. There are two. I think the article said something about them being best friends." He slips a pencil from behind his ear as he stretches the tape to the far corner of the wall. "Started brewing their own beer in college when they were roommates and it took off."

"Do you remember their names?" I ask as I move the end to another location on the wall.

"I don't remember all the details, but I'm sure you could find the article online. It was a few weeks ago." He takes a minute to write down a few measurements in the small notebook he pulls from his chest pocket. "You could also just ask your new friend."

"I don't know him that well. Maybe if I get a chance to visit again." I walk towards him with the end of the tape. "I'll probably be stuck here late the next few weeks. I need to get the furniture out of my dad's garage before he leaves for his cruise."

"Well, let me know if you need any help with that. Jonny and I could bring some stuff over in his truck." Justin and Jonny and been together for a few months. It's still new, but I haven't seen my friend this happy in a long time.

"Thanks. I'll take you up on that." I let the tape retreat into the casing.

We stand looking at the wall for a moment. "Has he stopped by?" he asks softly. He doesn't have to mention Will's name.

I shake my head. I feel the sting of tears, but refuse to set them free. "The hospital is an hour away and he's been working long hours." At least that's the excuse I keep hearing from him.

"I'm sorry," he says kindly. He sets his hand on my back for comfort.

"It's OK. I'm sure he'll be by eventually."

"Of course," he agrees.

Silence surrounds us again. I let Will give me excuses, and Justin allows me to say them out loud without pointing out the obvious. Will has never been here. He didn't agree with my decision to leave nursing to open this bookstore. When faced with the same trauma as I was, we both reacted differently. I learned that life was too short to not follow your dreams, and he dove back into being a doctor because saving lives is important too. I'll never fault him for that.

"I think I can build you something beautiful," Justin says.

"I know you can," I answer.

I walk with him to the front of the store. As I open the door he says, "Oh, I almost forgot. I got something for you. It's in my car."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted too. Well, we wanted to." He motions for me to follow him out and I can see his work truck parked outside the store next door.

He makes me close my eyes while he gets the gift from the backseat of the truck. "OK, you can open them," he instructs.

"It's perfect!" I can't help but squeal. It's a hand-painted wooden sign with 'Lovely Language' in curly font. "I'll put it in the front window." It seems so official now to have a sign with my store's name.

"I'm glad you like it." He sets it down and I give him a tight hug, kissing his cheek when I pull back.

I lift the sign and watch as Justin slips in his truck and waves as he pulls away from the curb. When I turn around to head back to my shop, I notice Byron leaning against the wall outside the brewery. His eyes are on me and his gaze is like a light touch on my skin. It's cold outside, but my body is warm. There is heat in my cheeks as I take a few slow steps forward. His eyes lift to where Justin's truck has just drove away, and then they fall back to me and the sign I'm carrying.

"Hey," I say with a voice that's far less confident than I meant it to be.

He never says anything back, he just lifts his chin in greeting. I wonder what's so interesting about the sign that's making it hard for him to look away. I don't get a chance to ask because he pushes off the wall and heads back into the brewery. I want to know more about him. I want to know why he's so tortured and if he treats everyone as if he can't stomach talking to them or if that's just how he feels about me.

I shake it off and open the door to my shop. I can't help but look over my shoulder one more time, my curiosity clearly overpowering my common sense. He's not there, and I try to ignore the disappointment.

I place the sign in the front window and turn off all the lights. The sound of a loud engine draws my attention and I know immediately it's him. I watch as he helps secure a helmet on a woman, her hands unnecessarily touching his chest as he tightens the strap. He slips his beanie off and his hair is unruly which fits what little I know about him.

The woman waits as he reaches for his own helmet. I feel it when his gaze locks on mine again. Tingles zip down my spine and there's a sharp need to lean closer, to get a better look at those eyes that seem to pull me to him uninvited. Then his helmet is on and he slings his leg over the seat. The woman climbs on and her hands wrap around him, holding firmly to his chest and I wait for him to acknowledge them somehow—with a touch of his own or even a small adjustment. Instead, his large boot kicks up the kickstand and he checks quickly behind them for traffic before racing away from the curb. My thoughts follow him on that imagined route for the rest of the night.