With a shudder, I snapped out of it.
Where had that come from? Make him romance you. Mama’s voice rang in my head so clearly I couldn’t dispute it. That day had ended in a bruised cheek for her. I’d spent the next day in my room alone.
The memory cleared as I thought back to Tyler. Then JJ.
It was just one date, JJ had said, and he was right. The date didn’t mean anything about love. It simply meant that that wasn’t actually my idea of romance. The alpha-billionaire thing didn’t do much for me.
The plastic of my love binder was cold when I pulled it out from under the bed. I flipped past tabs and graph paper, and recorded the point I’d awarded to JJ. He’d won it. I scribbled a few observations, then shut the binder and shoved it back under the bed.
Time to pick myself up and keep going.
Filled with new resolve, I drew in a breath, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and marched back to the office. An empty room greeted me. JJ must have left, because I couldn’t hear him shuffling around upstairs.
A note on my laptop drew me forward. A piece of paper sat on top of what appeared to be a homemade pastry. I picked up the note with a trembling hand.
Don’t worry, you won’t have to scan and file this paper. I’m sorry about your date and formally reject that point. You still have a lot to prove on behalf of romance, but this experience doesn’t count.
Have a homemade croissant. Carbs always make me happy.
Also, that was his loss. You’re amazing, Lizbeth.
JJ
Later that afternoon, I pulled a few sticky hooks out of a shopping bag and crept over to the single sink. The hottest the water got was warm, and dishes were perennially piled at the bottom. I quickly peeled off the backs of the hooks and hung them in a zigzag pattern on the wall over the sink. Then I rooted through the cupboard and hung the Baileys’ favorite coffee mugs. The tiny reorganization cleared up space and added a splash of much-needed color.
With a contented sigh, I appraised my work and then shuffled into the spare bedroom. Mark wanted to burn all these papers in a bonfire after they were confirmed as recorded, so I needed another box to hold the rest of the processed pages.
JJ hadn’t returned since my outburst, so I’d enjoyed solitude and the music of Andrea and Matteo Bocelli. In the quiet, I’d dusted the fireplace and tucked a few functional pieces of decor from the Antique Barn on top of the mantel. Nothing too obvious. An old, rusted crampon from the early 1900s that reminded me of JJ, and an oil lamp that I used as a bookend for some of JJ’s mountaineering books. Plus a drawer organizer in Mark’s desk and a desktop organizer behind his computer. I’d cleaned out two drawers just by sorting his oddities.
The office door closed, breaking through my thoughts. Someone shuffled inside and set down car keys with a light jangle. Not Mark. He made a lot more noise than that. JJ moved more like a cat.
“Whoa. Who’s reading romance books?”
The astonished female voice carried into the spare bedroom. My hand froze on a box, and I lifted my head. A woman?
I stepped out of the room to find a thin but strong, dark-haired woman in the kitchenette. Crinkles lined her eyes. Kelly, the Bailey boys’ mother. I could see Mark in her face, and JJ in her eyes.
On seeing me, her eyes widened. She tilted her head and held my favorite romance book up a little higher. I must have left it in the kitchen at lunch.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” I smiled and carted a box out. “I’m Lizbeth.”
“I recognize you. You work at the coffee shop. Or . . . did.” She grimaced. “Heard about that. So sorry. What a darling place that was.”
“Thanks.”
Her head cocked to the side. “Are JJ and Mark here?”
“Mark is in town closing a real estate deal, and I’m not sure where JJ went. He left hours ago.”
She nodded, studying me. “And you are doing . . .”
“Work for Mark. Trying to get his paperwork under control.” With a little shrug, I gestured to the box in my arms and then at the boxes of papers near the desk.
“Brave girl,” she cried, chuckling. “Need some help?”
“Sure, thanks! I’m just carting these outside. Mark said he wanted all the boxes left by the woodpile so he could burn the paperwork when it’s done.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “That’s definitely my oldest son. Arsonist to the core. I’d love to help. Just show me which ones to move.”
It took us ten minutes to lug the four boxes to the designated spot. Which left four more to scan and organize. Thankfully, the burn pile wasn’t too far from the main lodge, and Justin had dug a path to it. Atticus trotted up to us, panting in the crisp air. The distant sound of a saw meant Justin was around somewhere.
Movement and sound came from the main kitchen, and I thought I glimpsed JJ inside. After my outburst this morning, I was grateful for some distance.
I dropped the last box and kicked it the final few feet through the snow. Supposedly, Justin would come burn it when Mark returned. Something about a bonfire and s’mores and an offering to the snow gods.
Kelly turned toward the kitchen, then beckoned me with a wave. “My nose detects something in there. Let’s go check it out.”
I had to admit I was hungry. I’d fended for myself for lunch, and I’d really only been able to find Froot Loops in the bachelor pad kitchenette.
I followed behind her, both eager
