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“When I was on the road, I stayed in places with warm winters. But last year was my first winter here and luckily I got a seasonal gig at the new resort on the other side of the mountain. Came with meals and a single room.”

Another brief silence passed before I changed the subject.

“What was her name?” I asked, knowing I didn’t need to elaborate.

A tender smile touched her lips, love apparent in the way her eyes softened. “Benita. But everybody called her Bennie. Grandma Bennie.”

“I know she’s proud of you.”

Goldyn’s smile turned rueful. “She’d be more proud if I could do what I said I was going to do. The funny part is that I have plenty of money. I’ve always spent way less than I make, but I know it looks better when a bank is backing me. This isn’t exactly a cash economy.”

“Tell me what you want to do,” I prompted, not wanting her to stop talking.

She reached in her bag, opened a notebook and took me through her plans for Read the Room, a bookstore reading lounge. She told me every detail about the layout, the book and coffee pairings she wanted to curate, and the different seating options she would set up throughout the shop. It sounded exactly like something I would expect from a woman like Goldyn. And now I knew why I couldn’t place her at any other jobs earlier. Because she wasn’t doing the one she was obviously put on this earth to do.

Her breath tickled my forearm when she gave a long exhale. “I just wanna do something that means something.” She met my gaze again. “You know?”

All I could give her was a nod. Because I had yet to find anything outside of my partners that made me light up the way she did talking about her goals. I was still happy she confided in me. It meant everything that she trusted me enough to talk to me for hours about it.

“I want people to have a safe place to justbe. Get lost in a book, eat too many pastries and drink too much coffee,” she laughed, the breathy sound making goosebumps dot my skin. “Hey, you never know, maybe one day I’ll be bugging you to make a custom batch of cookies just for my store.”

Icy tendrils of doubt tried to freeze me in place. “W-what?”

“You heard me. You’re an amazing baker. I’d have the best book selection and sweets in town. Now I just have to find a coffee plug. Know anybody?” she asked, not understanding the gravity of her words.

No one had ever wanted to hire me for anything. Mostly because I didn’t put myself out there. I was too scared of rejection to even try.

“I’ll ask around for you,” I said instead of telling her how much her confidence in me shook me sideways. It was one thing to have Enzo and Rome rave about the stuff I made. But Goldyn had no reason to placate me.

“Hmph. I might fail. I might lose all my money and have no customers. But I have to try. I won’t know unless I try, right?”

I won’t know unless I try.

Those words hit me right in the chest.

“What are you thinking?” Goldyn wanted to know.

I didn’t hesitate, knowing a dreamy look was probably plastered on my face. I couldn’t help it if I tried. “I’m thinking I could listen to you talk about your dreams all night.”

Bells chiming above the entrance broke the spell my words had cast and when Goldyn tore her eyes away from the new arrival, the moment had passed.

She stared down at her hands. “It can’t be a vision that only lives inside my head anymore. I know it sounds frivolous to some people, but it’s the only thing I’ve wanted consistently my entire life.”

“So fuck what other people think.”

She gasped, surprised by the force of my words and looked at me with a bemused smile.

“Isn’t that what you told me?Fuck how it looks to other peopleand do it anyway.”

For the hundredth time, she batted her curls out of her face and smiled bright enough to rival the sun. “Yea, I guess I did say that. But I like how it sounds coming from you instead. I’m gonna buy you a drink.”

Before I could protest and insist on paying for it, she slid out of the booth and walked over to the bar.

An hour later,I eyed Sincere over the rim of my second drink and saw his first old-fashioned was still half-full. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked the bartender for his ‘best middle-shelf’ liquor on that first order?

“Don’t like the drink? I can get you another one…” I offered.

“No.” He shook his head and my brows fell. “I mean, the drink is fine. I’m just a lightweight and I don’t want to be drunk when I get the courage to say what I want to say.”