Holiday with You - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,23
a discount while I assure him the business he's talking about closed fifteen years ago.
On my way to Mrs. Krauss, I spot Audrey coming out of the Cookie Cutter Bakery. Instead of her professional attire, she wears a pair of jeans, boots, and a warm coat. Today’s scarf is a deep burgundy, and it matches her hat and mittens. She holds a cup of coffee.
Did Colt forget about her—again?
What the hell, Colt?
I pull up my collar against the cold and saunter toward her. When she spots me, she smiles, her eyes crinkle, and I’m tempted to bend and kiss her. I’ve been dying to do that since yesterday. I don’t because what if I want more than that simple kiss?
There’s no what-if. You do.
“Good morning,” I greet. “Did Colin skip your continental breakfast?”
“No, he came by with scones and coffee. He took a plate full of cookies in exchange,” she answers and shows me the cup. “This is my second of the day. I’m heading back to the B&B.”
“To eat cookies?” I ask.
“No, I’m working and doing some research on Ms. Grant,” she answers and then lowers her voice. “What if she changed her name?”
The conspiratorial tone makes me burst into laughter.
She joins me, and the sound is almost magical. When we compose ourselves, she asks, “It sounds delusional, doesn’t it?”
“Why don’t you come with me?” I offer. “Mrs. Krauss’s shelves might be a lot more interesting than your theory.”
She adjusts her scarf, takes a sip of her drink, and sighs. “You’re right, I’m losing my mind. Earlier today, I was making a list of everything that should be fixed at the B&B. The place has a lot of potential.”
“Potential?” I repeat the last word. She looks excited, and there’s more life in her when she tells me about the renovations she’d do to the place.
Everything she suggests could be done in stages. I agree the carpet should be pulled out and set on fire. The art is gorgeous, and it’d have a second life if it’s reframed with something modern.
She touches her lower back. “The beds need to go too. I was thinking earlier that even if the owner doesn’t sell the place, she needs to give it some TLC. It has potential. The business will bloom if she puts her heart into it.”
“What if she likes it the way it is? It’s been like that for generations.”
Audrey gives me a curious look.
“You disagree.”
“The hotel has the capability to become one of the best places to visit in Colorado,” she says. “Can it stay like that for another fifty years? Sure. Another fifty years of a mediocre existence. Why not reach for what will make it magnificent?”
I take a few things out of this conversation. One, she takes her hotels as seriously as she takes her cookies. Two, her words bring back my earlier conversation with Morgan. Last night’s conversation with Colt. Even my sisters’ comments yesterday morning.
The B&B and I are one and the same. Everything has stayed the same. Changes are frowned upon. I’m not reaching for magnificent.
I’m barely living.
The unsettling feeling is back again. It’s actually getting bigger. Since my divorce, I’ve dedicated my entire life to Perry and my job. Moving here only changed the amount of time I devote to my daughter. My routine hasn’t wavered until Audrey came crashing into my life. It’s no longer Perry and work. A part of my brain can’t stop daydreaming about her and the possibilities of more than just that one night we spent together.
It can’t happen.
She lives in Los Angeles. She’s a career woman spending Christmas working instead of with her family. Maybe I don’t know a lot about her, but that much I can see for myself. I’m not threatened by her success but by her priorities.
“You okay?” she asks, her mitten-covered hand reaches up to my forehead, and she rubs it. “That’s a deep frown. What upset you?”
“When are you leaving town?”
She stares at her cup and chuckles. “Let’s see, today is Friday . . . I’m guessing probably never. Becky already offered me a job to update her website. Do you know she ships cookies and cupcakes?”
I shake my head.
“You don’t because her marketing needs a little work,” she explains.
“You’re staying because Becky offered you a job?” I ask, confused.
“That’s not why. As you know, I’m here to buy the B&B. Crazy Boss from Hell might fire me soon if I don’t deliver. When that happens, I’m going to have a hard time