Chapter One
Jeremy
There were only three things I trusted in this world: my family, my business sense, and that things in life could go to hell without any warning. I hated that last one, but knowing it was true kept me prepared and alert. There was plenty I couldn’t control, but I did my best to keep on top of what I could.
As I looked around the busy dance floor of Flurry, the nightclub I owned and ran for the last six years, I thought what a lucky bastard I am to love my work. Okay, I’m not a bastard, having had not one but two sets of amazing parents, and I’m not just lucky, because I’d worked hard to make the place successful. Still, I was fortunate to have found a career that suited my desire to own my own business while allowing me to never have to get up before noon.
I was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. According to the stories, my preference for the night was predestined. I’d been born a little after midnight after nearly sixteen hours of labor. Growing up, my siblings — six brothers and one sister — teased that I should find a vampire to turn me, then I’d have an excuse to never be awake early. Morning classes in high school had been a form of torture. And in college, creating a schedule where I could get in my requirements without having to be in class before one in the afternoon had been tricky, but doable.
Now I had a job where I didn’t interact with people until late in the day and – I work all night long. It was perfect. Running a nightclub meant my evenings ended late and my days started…later. It all depended on what time I finally went to bed. Fortunately, there was no one in my life who expected me to be home or awake earlier.
Dating had been one of the unexpected challenges of my profession. Not only did I work odd hours, but I worked on the weekends. The times most people had off from work and wanted to have fun were my busiest times. I’d had several girlfriends get annoyed when I wasn’t available on Saturday to do what they wanted or who didn’t want to spend another weekend night at the club where I couldn’t give them my undivided attention. And heaven help them if they wanted to make plans in the morning. That got an immediate, “No.”
Honestly, the situation suited me just fine. I wasn’t looking to settle down. Three of my brothers and my sister were quite happy in serious relationships. For me, causal dating and occasional hookups were a better choice, although a little bit of a challenge living in a small town where it seemed everyone knew everyone, particularly my family. More than one girlfriend’s mother had complained to mine. Fortunately, my mom understood my choices and always stood up for me. That was the woman Valerie Stewart was and why our family was so close.
We were close geographically, too. Until recently, only my brother Drew lived away from the area, but about a month ago he came back and announced he was moving home. That would have been the biggest shock in my life if a few weeks later my youngest brother, Owen, hadn’t left town. Our family’s homebody had fallen in love with rockstar Paxton Jones when she’d stayed at my parents’ inn while recuperating from vocal surgery. He’d gone to California to be with her, while she recorded her next album. Eventually, they’d both move back, but for now Owen was the only one of us outside Fable Notch.
I owed him a call, but that was tomorrow’s concern. Right now, my focus was on making sure this Saturday night went well. Because for the last few weeks, business had been off and I had a terrible feeling I knew why. I was walking the floor when my attention was caught by Eric Dorn, my assistant manager and head of security. “Hey, Boss, I’m going downstairs to get two more bottles of rum.”
I nodded and moved toward the front to cover his usual position. If we needed more alcohol and my head bartender Elyse wasn’t the one getting it, it meant people were drinking and she was too busy to step away. Good.
To the casual observer, the club was busy, but I knew what it looked like when it was packed. Grom what I could see, we were down about twenty percent from our typical crowd at the end of March. Not a big problem, but enough to have me troubled because this wasn’t the first weekend I’d noticed.
A few minutes later, Eric was back in position, and I joined Elyse at the bar so she and our two other bartenders could rotate out on breaks. I enjoyed this time each night. It put me close to my patrons, gave me a chance to interact with them.
“Is it you?” asked a woman with a wary tone as I served her and her friend their mojitos.
Thinking she was flirting and not wanting to be completely discouraging, even though I never went out with women I met at my club, I said, “That depends. It could be.”
The face she made told me this was the wrong answer. She put the drink down and pushed it back. “Maybe I shouldn’t have this.”
My gut tightened. “My apologies. I was trying to be funny. Let me start again. I’m Jeremy Stewart, the owner. What’s the problem?”
Her friend chimed in. “Sorry about that. She’s from out of town and read there was someone who worked here who made drinks extra strong to get women drunk. I told her she had nothing to worry about.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” I didn’t know where this woman had read that, but unfortunately, it had merit. I might not know what she’d read or where, but I knew the reason for it. Mitch Baylor. My worse hiring choice ever. He’d been furious when I fired him and told me “I’d be sorry.” Since his departure, I’d had a flood in the basement and noticed the change in the crowd. Hearing this, that people were talking about my club this way, had me seething.
On Monday, I went through the numbers from the past few weeks and compared them to previous years. I’d been right. Attendance was down. Not knowing if this was a Flurry thing or an economy thing, I made a mental note to check in with Adam and Laurel at dinner tonight. They also ran hospitality businesses and if it was affecting the region in general, maybe they were seeing the same trend. – If it was just me, I knew where to point the finger.
Later that day, I was leaving my apartment to go to my parents’ for family dinner when I saw my neighbor, Clara Grayson, struggling to get into the building. I ran to the outer door, gave her a second to step back, then opened it for her. “Hello, Little Lark,” I said as she walked in, still juggling her bags.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Owl,” she said with a smile. Our nicknames acknowledged the reason we rarely saw each other. As far as I knew, she was awake and out the door first thing in the morning most days of the week for her job as the Youth Services librarian at the public library. In the year since she’d moved in, I’d probably seen her less than a dozen times in our building. And our paths didn’t cross much around town either.
“Didn’t want to make two trips to the car?” I asked grabbing one of the bags that looked as though it was about to fall.
“Foolish in hindsight,” she said as she adjusted the books in her arms and used a now free hand to dig out her keys. In most places in Fable Notch, people left doors unlocked, but that wasn’t a good idea in our building. Even though there were only eight apartments – four on each floor – I was pretty certain two of the upstairs apartments were listed on vacation rental sites, which meant people coming and going who we didn’t know.
“This is the second time I’m seeing you in a month. I think that may be a record for us.” I’d come home one night a few weeks ago to find her cat sitting in front of my door. I hadn’t wanted to wake her, but there hadn’t been an alternative. I could still picture her in the long sleep shirt she’d been wearing. And the unexpectedly bright red toenails on her bare feet.
“We better not make a habit of this. People will talk.” She smiled then turned to open her apartment door. As soon as it was open a crack, she bent down to make sure the cat didn’t run out. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice what a cute ass she had. “Get back, Roarke. Or you won’t get any chicken.”
That earned her a meow followed by the sound of him scampering ahead. I laughed and followed her into the apartment now that she was able to open the door fully. “Guess he understood that.”
“I’m pretty sure ‘chicken’ is one of the only words he knows,” she said putting the pile of books on her coffee table. “I’d invite you to stay for some, but I assume you’re on your way to work.”
“No, Monday night is for dinner with the fam,” I said. “I appreciate the offer, though. It smells good.”
She took the bag from me. “Davis Market rotisserie chicken and roasted root vegetables. So much easier than making it. I keep promising myself I’ll learn to do weekend meal prep. I even watch all the cool videos on it, and then I never do it. Fortunately, I have this as an alternative.”
“What did you get for dessert?” It was an assumption, but no matter how good the food was at Davis, the desserts were even better. Clara gave me a half smile. And was that a blush? Pretty. I already thought she was beautiful. She wore her dark hair loose—thick and shiny, the kind that looked like it would slide through your fingers if you were close enough to try. She was probably about an inch taller than my sister, and while she dressed professionally, I’d noticed her curves each time we’d spoken. She had full lips with a great smile, but it was her eyes that got me. Brown and expressive. A guy could get lost in them. Not me, of course. Our lives were too different. “Come on. You can tell me.”
There was a pause before she lifted a small box from the bag. “Chocolate cream tart. It called to me. I couldn’t leave it behind.”
“I’m sure you’ll give it a good… home.” That earned me a full grin and added a sparkle to her eyes. Yup, definitely her best feature.
She leaned forward and whispered, “I may even eat it first.”
“Bad girl,” I said. I thought my tone was joking, but I saw a subtle change in her expression. Wanting her smile to return, in a conspiratorial tone I offered, “Don’t worry. I do the same thing. Don’t tell my mother.”
It worked. She smiled and made an X over her heart. “If you can’t trust your neighbor with your dessert secrets, who can you trust? Can I at least offer you something to say thank you before you head out? Apple cider. Beer?”
“Cider sounds good.” While she went to her kitchen for glasses, I glanced toward her living room. I wasn’t surprised to see that rather than art, the walls were lined with bookcases, most of them not just filled, but stuffed. The woman loved her work. Then I noticed that in addition to books she had another collection. Walking over to one of the cases, I said, “Nutcrackers?”
She followed me and handed me a glass. “When you have the same name as the heroine of a famous ballet, it becomes the obvious gift. My grandmother gave me my first one the Christmas I was seven along with tickets for us to see a performance together.” She reached up to a top shelf and pulled down a small but ornate nutcracker which must have sparkled when it was new but now looked warn and well loved. “I haven’t collected any new ones in a while, but they are special to me.”
“Special enough to bring them all the way across the country,” I said remembering that she’d moved here from Washington.
“It wouldn’t be home without them,” she said with a shrug. It was nice to hear she thought of Fable Notch as home.
I held up my wrist as we walked back to the kitchen area. “My collection is more utilitarian. Watches. Have a whole bunch from my dad.”
I was enjoying our chat, but before I could think of something else to say to continue the conversation, the cat jumped on the table and head butted the bag. “Guess he’s waited long enough for his dinner. If I don’t give it to him soon, he’ll bite his way through.”
“Determined little beast.” I gave her furry roommate a scratch between his ears. “I’ll leave you two to your dinner. Have a good night.”
“You, too, and thanks for the help.”
I tipped an invisible hat at her. “My pleasure.” She was focused on food and the cat by the time I closed her door behind me, and as I walked to my car, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that our schedules didn’t give me a chance to get to know her better.
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