Page 1 of More Than Words (Trickle Creek: The Lyons #2)

Chapter One

Ethan

“ T here is no better sound in the world than an old wall coming down.”

The next swing of the sledgehammer landed with a satisfying crack, and plaster crumbled in chunks around my boots with the large hole I’d just put in the wall. Dust filled the air, thick enough to choke on. Somewhere behind me, my brother muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Reid?”

I turned to see him shaking his head. “I was just saying that I can think of a lot more satisfying sounds than destruction.” He raised his eyebrows and gave me a pointed look, which I ignored.

Just because he was happily married to a sexy wife he couldn’t keep his hands off, didn’t mean the rest of us were.

Or that it was something we wanted.

At least, it wasn’t something I wanted. A relationship was so low on my radar for the moment, it didn’t even register. I had enough to keep me busy. Like destroying the wall that stood in my way of an open concept room.

I’d keep my focus on demo, thank you very much.

I lifted my sledgehammer and swung it again, rewarding myself with the solid crunch of the old wall.

“Careful you don’t hit something important,” my handyman brother, who truthfully had a lot more experience with this kind of thing than I did, muttered.

“I don’t need my to-do list getting any longer than it already is.

” He pushed past me and reached into the hole I’d just made to pull out a big piece of plaster.

“Remind me again why you didn’t hire someone for this? ”

“I did.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Funny.” Reid shot me a look. “I don’t remember any discussion of payment.”

“That’s ’cause there isn’t any.” I flashed him my most charming grin, not that I thought for a second it would work on my younger brother. “It’s the family special.”

Reid grumbled a little more under his breath. Something about a special still requiring some form of payment. But I knew he was happy to help. Despite his crusty exterior, my grumpy brother was a softie. Especially for his family.

And I wasn’t ashamed to cash in on that generosity.

Not when I was desperately in need of help if I planned to ever open the doors to Peaks & Brews.

I had way too much to do to turn the old Chinese restaurant—which had been sitting empty in the plaza for longer than I could remember—into my new brewery space as soon as possible.

I’d more or less signed my life away when it came to the lease payments, so the sooner I could start making money, the better.

And I was confident I would make money. As soon as the walls were down, and we scrubbed the lingering scent of deep-fried ginger beef out of the air, we could get the tanks in and move operations out of my backyard shed and get things going for real.

It was long past time to turn my home-brewing hobby into something real.

Something that would give me and Quinn a solid future.

My little girl deserved that more than anything.

But first, we needed to get past the destruction stage. And judging by the state of things, it was going to take a fucking miracle. Or a lot more work.

“I still think we should keep the dragon mural on the far wall.” Reid wisely changed the subject away from the extra money I didn’t have. “It adds character.”

“You just don’t want to paint over it.”

“You’re not wrong.” Reid chuckled. “But seriously, it does add character.”

“We’ll see.” I glanced at the mural. It did have character. But I wasn’t sure that a 1983 over-the-top Chinese food restaurant was the vibe I was going for.

“Seriously, whatever it is you decide to do, Ethan, it’s going to be great.

” Reid set his sledgehammer down and watched me from across the room.

“This place has been sitting empty for too long. It’ll be good for the whole town for something to fill this space.

” It was unusual for my brother to offer up any kind of positive reinforcement at all, and I was just about to mention that fact when he finished his thought.

“As long as the fancy beer you brew isn’t total shit. ”

“Asshole.”

I tossed a chunk of plaster at him, but he dodged it easily with a laugh.

“Wait and see.” I set my sledgehammer down and crossed the room to where I left the cooler of beer.

Not my brews—yet. But soon, if everything went according to plan.

“This place is going to be great. It’s long past time for Trickle Creek to have a brewery.

” I tossed him a cold can. “But it’ll be more than that. It’ll be a place to gather.”

Reid cracked the tab on his can and lifted it in cheers before taking a deep drink. “I look forward to that day, brother. Truly.”

I nodded my appreciation. Traditionally, my brothers and I didn’t do a whole lot of emotion. At least, we tried not to.

Instead, I turned and surveyed the space, looking past the mess to see the vision.

“There’ll be a little stage over in the corner there where we can host open mic nights and some local artists.

” I pointed to a stack of boxes and garbage bags that were ready to go to the dump.

“Over there, I’ll have some high-top tables for smaller gatherings, and of course, the long bench tables there. ”

I spent the next few minutes showing Reid my plan, and it was only after I was finished that my brother looked at me with a flash of respect in his eyes. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, man. You know I am.” I tipped the can and drained the rest of my beer. “It’s been a rough road with the divorce and dealing with Quinn’s mom. We need this. Both of us. And Quinn deserves to see me build something solid. Something that’s ours. A fresh start. For both of us.”

Reid opened his mouth and for a moment, I thought he might even say something.

But then, in true Reid fashion, he swallowed back the rest of his beer and picked up his hammer again.

“Well, we better get a move on then.” And before either of us could get any more serious about it all, the sound of crunching plaster and splintering wood filled the air again.

Delaney

I’d tried to be patient. Really, I had.

But there was only so much one person could take, and I’d about hit my limit.

For the first few hours, I tried to tell myself that the hammering next door was just temporary.

That the floor-shaking thuds and bangs and occasional bursts of laughter and cursing would settle down.

For a moment or two, I’d even managed to convince myself that my customers wouldn’t notice the incessant racket coming through the old, thin walls.

But by the time my fifth customer in a row commented and shot a wary glance at the wall I shared with what might as well have been a demolition derby next door, my patience had officially run out.

My mystery book club group was due to gather in the next fifteen minutes, and I could still hear the pounding and crashing of plaster next door.

I mean, how many walls did they have to knock down over there?

The sound wasn’t just distracting—it was completely impossible to ignore.

Like a jackhammer at the base of my skull.

I stared at the wall between us, my jaw growing tighter by the second. My fingers clenched around my favorite mug, with the peppermint tea I’d brewed in an effort to calm my nerves long since gone cold as I tried to figure out a way to handle the situation.

Ignoring it and wishing it would go away hadn’t worked out the way I’d hoped.

Or at all.

The reality was, my little bookshop had a neighbor now. For better or for worse. In this case, definitely worse. And I was going to need to figure out how to manage the situation.

It was either that or throw a book at someone’s head. But somehow I didn’t think that would get me the result I was looking for.

Confrontation wasn’t my style. I was the type who sent carefully worded emails and baked apology muffins for bumping into someone.

For years, I’d been the one smoothing things over, apologizing for everyone else, especially my ex-husband and his endless string of bad behavior.

Back then, keeping the peace meant keeping myself small.

But that was then.

I wasn’t that person anymore.

And this wasn’t just bothersome noise—this was my business.

If the new guy next door thought he could just roll into town and put a brewery of all things next to my peaceful little bookshop without any regard for his neighbors, he had another think coming.

Plot Twist was all I had. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to it.

Not without a fight.

Not that I was looking for a fight. Ugh. The very thought of that made me want to be sick. With any luck, he’d be a reasonable human who would work with me to find a solution that kept us both happy.

Yes.

If I approached him in a reasonable, calm manner, I’m sure everything would work out.

Still, my stomach rolled at the idea of the unavoidable confrontation.

I took a breath and backed up from the rickety old front counter so quickly, it almost toppled over.

With a silent curse, I mentally moved fixing the counter to the top of my to-do list. Not that it would help me get to it any sooner.

“Okay, Delaney,” I said to myself. “You can do this.”

I tugged my oversized sweater tighter around me like armor.

Time to be brave.

Or at least fake it well enough to get through the next few minutes.

I hadn’t been in Trickle Creek for very long, and I still didn’t know a lot of people. At least not many I’d call a friend. I’d been so focused on starting up the shop and building it into a business I could be proud of—and pay my bills with—that there wasn’t much time for leisure activities.

Everybody I’d met so far had been beyond welcoming of me and so supportive of the shop. So really, I didn’t have any reason to be nervous as I left the comfort and safety of Plot Twist and went next door to what had once been a Chinese food restaurant.