Page 3 of More Than Words (Trickle Creek: The Lyons #2)

Chapter Two

Delaney

T he bell above the shop door jingled, but I barely heard it over the buzz saw whining next door.

I closed my laptop and pinched the bridge of my nose. There went my plan to update the Plot Twist newsletter in peace. I couldn’t even think, let alone concentrate, with all the noise next door.

It had been three days since I went to introduce myself to Ethan and hopefully strike some sort of deal about keeping the level of noise down.

Not that it had worked.

Sure, he’d taken a break during the mystery book club meeting, and when I asked whether he could keep it down for the mom-and-tot’s story hour the day after, he’d refrained from using his saw.

But the hammering still came through loud and clear.

Most of the kids had been more interested in the sounds next door than they had in the hungry caterpillar looking for his next meal.

“At this point, I should be handing out hard hats with every new book purchase,” I grumbled.

“Okay,” a familiar voice said. “But I’m not sure it’ll go with my outfit.”

I looked up to see my friend Lauren Westfield. She was dressed casually in a flowing skirt and tight tank top with an oversized knitted sweater completing the look. She gave me a sympathetic smile and handed me a little paper bag.

“Here. This might help.”

I peeked inside to see a baggie of dried herbs and a sleek, cobalt-blue roller bottle.

I lifted my head and raised a brow in question.

“Calming tea,” Lauren said with a laugh. “I made the blend myself. And the bottle is a special mix of essential oils. It should help with focus and tension relief. Roll it on your temples, take a few deep breaths, and try not to imagine taking the hammer and throwing it through the wall.”

I offered her a weak smile and reached for the roller bottle. “It’s worth a try. But no promises.”

Lauren wandered over to the front table, trailing her fingers along the new arrivals I’d displayed. “Any luck with Mr. Sawdust next door?”

I groaned and rolled the little bottle over my temples.

An aromatic blend of lavender and peppermint filled my senses.

“He said he’d try to work around events, but there’s been nonstop hammering.

I know he has a schedule, too. I really do.

But…” I inhaled deeply and reapplied the roller.

“Story hour yesterday was basically a dramatic reading of The Very Loud Construction Site .”

Lauren snorted. “That might actually sell better than the original around here.”

“Don’t give him any ideas.”

My new friend turned back toward me, resting her hip against the checkout counter. “Ethan’s not a bad guy, you know. All of the Lyons are pretty decent. I’m sure if you talk to him about it a bit more, he’ll work with you. Eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t going to work for my book clubs and toddler groups,” I muttered, rolling the bottle across the inside of my wrist. “Those groups are a huge part of my business, and if I can’t provide a quiet and relaxing place to meet…well… I can’t think about what will happen.”

Lauren offered me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure all this noise is temporary,” she said. “Once the construction phase is over, things will settle down. Brody was telling me that Ethan has a pretty tight timeline to get things ready for his grand opening.”

“Brody, huh?” Temporarily distracted, I wiggled my eyebrows.

I’d only known Lauren a few months, but our friendship had formed quickly.

As far as I knew, she wasn’t dating anyone, but she did seem to spend a lot of time with Brody Lyons, who I now knew was Ethan’s oldest brother and owner of Peak to Path, an outdoors shop at the other end of the plaza.

They didn’t appear to be dating, but there was definitely something between the two of them.

“He was helping Ethan out the other night with some painting,” she said smoothly, either ignoring my implied question or missing it altogether.

“And speaking of Brody, I have to run. He’s supposed to stop by and take a look at a crooked shelf.

If I’m not there, he’ll start reorganizing my tea by mood. ”

“Mood?”

She shrugged. “Either that or by the color of the box.”

“That’s…weirdly charming.”

“It’s definitely weird.” She laughed and added, “Try the tea.” She glanced at the roller ball in my hand that I hadn’t stopped applying. “And if you need a refill of the oils, stop in anytime and I’ll hook you up.”

I thanked her as she slipped out the door, the bells jingling in her wake, and for one, miraculously blissful second, the shop was quiet.

And then the door opened again.

“Hey, bookstore lady.”

“Hey, back.” I couldn’t help but smile at the girl.

Quinn.

Her long, dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, her backpack slung over her shoulder, and her hands were stuffed into an oversized hoodie.

She’d been in at least once a week for the last few months. Always with a sharp eye for whatever new books I’d recently stocked and an even sharper wit.

“You again,” I said with a smile.

“Got anything new that doesn’t totally suck?”

I tilted my head. “Depends. You still on your dragon kick, or are you ready to branch out?”

The girl grinned as she wandered toward the used shelf. “Dragons are pretty classic. But I’m open to explosions or something juicier.”

“Juicier? You’re twelve,” I said, teasing gently as I joined her near the shelf.

“I’m very mature for my age,” she shot back with a smirk. “Ask anyone.”

I didn’t doubt it for a second. I pulled a well-loved paperback off the middle shelf and handed it to her. “This one’s got a bit of everything. Dragons, age-appropriate steam, and a twist that made me yell.”

Her eyes lit up as she took it from me. “Nice. How much?”

“You can borrow it,” I said. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”

In all the time that Quinn had been coming into the store, she’d never bought a book. Normally, she just pulled one off the shelf and curled up in a chair, speed-reading until closing time. Not that I minded. In fact, she kind of reminded me of myself at her age.

“Seriously?” Quinn blinked up at me, surprised. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Okay.” She grinned. “But I’m going to give you an honest opinion when I bring it back.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She started toward her usual spot, already absorbed in the book. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Do your parents read, too?”

Quinn paused, but didn’t look up. “I don’t know. My dad’s always busy working. And my mom…she’s not really around.”

Just like that, my heart gave a little tug.

“Well,” I said softly, “you’re always welcome to hang out here. Anytime.”

She turned and smiled at me. It was just a flicker, but it was real.

Without another word, she settled into her chair and lost herself in the book. The saws and hammers from next door started up again, but instead of letting them get to me, I lifted my wrists to my nose and inhaled the scent of lavender and peppermint.

Ethan

I shoved the door open with my elbow, doing my best to balance the tray of drinks and not drop the paper bag of burgers and fries. “Dinner of champions,” I called out as I walked through the small house.

Quinn padded into the kitchen moments later. “Please tell me you got fries.”

“Do I ever forget the fries, kiddo?”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “You forgot your own birthday last year, so…”

Fair point.

I dropped the bag on the counter and started to unpack it while Quinn grabbed plates. As I reached for the ketchup and mayo, something on the kitchen table caught my eye. A dog-eared paperback with a cracked spine and dragons on the cover.

“What’s that?”

My daughter glanced over her shoulder. “Please tell me you’ve seen a book before, Dad.”

“Smart-ass,” I muttered. “It doesn’t look like a school book. Where did you get it?”

“The bookstore,” she deadpanned. “You know, the store where they sell books. ”

“Attitude.” I gave her a warning glance. My daughter was sassy and smart, but that sass could tread dangerously close to attitude from time to time if she wasn’t careful.

“The bookstore lady let me borrow it.”

“Delaney?” I turned back toward the food, but the image of my neighbor in the plaza flashed through my mind.

Big, green eyes. Calm voice that only barely hid a spark of fire beneath her quiet, controlled exterior when she’d shown up in my construction zone with that polite, but no-nonsense tone.

She’d looked like she wanted to murder me… nicely.

“She’s cool,” Quinn said, sinking into her seat at the table with her plate of greasy food.

A familiar shot of guilt hit me. It was the third time this week I’d picked up burgers and fries from the Shed. I really needed to get better at preparing healthy meals, or at least, grabbing something different.

I made a mental note to place an order from Willa’s Whisk, across the plaza, next time to add some variety to our diet.

“Oh yeah?” I tried to sound casual, but Quinn shot me a look, letting me know it wasn’t working.

“Yeah.” She squirted a dollop of ketchup on her plate before adding mayo to the pile. “She lets me hang out and read. She doesn’t hover or act weird like most adults. She gets it.”

I wasn’t sure what exactly she got. But I didn’t think it was wise to ask.

Quinn swirled a fry through her mayo and ketchup concoction.

I reached for the bottles, making my own mixture of dip, just the way we both liked.

But my thoughts didn’t move on from Delaney as quickly as they should have.

I didn’t usually think twice about women I met around town, especially not attractive women who got under my skin in an unfamiliar way.

That was a rule I didn’t break.

Ever.

But there was something about her.

Maybe it was the way she tried not to look rattled when she came over, when she was clearly uncomfortable. Or the way she worked to make a deal for some kids’ reading hour.

Or maybe it was the way my daughter clearly thought she was cool. And had lent Quinn a book?

Delaney was cool. She hadn’t been trying to impress me or flirt her way through our conversation the other day. She’d just been…real. It was refreshing. Different from what I was used to.

I shook off my thoughts and reached for a fry. “Just don’t take anything without asking, okay? Borrowing is fine, but?—”

“Dad,” Quinn stopped me. “Relax. She offered. It’s fine.”

I snorted. But I knew it was. Quinn was a good kid, and she liked to read. There were a whole lot of worse things she could be doing at her age.

And I was certainly glad she wasn’t doing any of them.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but my mind kept circling back to the woman next door and the fact that, despite how busy I was with the brewery, and balancing that with fatherhood and…

well, life…there was something about Delaney I couldn’t get out of my head.

And that was not good. Not even a little bit.

Quinn crunched into another fry as her phone lit up and binged with an incoming message.

“No phones at the table,” I said, but she’d already reached for the device.

Her face clouded over as she read the message.

Forgetting my own rule, I asked, “Everything okay?”

“Just Mom.” She shrugged. “Said she’d try to call this weekend. Meetings, blah blah, deadlines, blah blah.”

I nodded and worked to keep my tone neutral. “At least she’s trying.”

Quinn didn’t say anything. I didn’t press the issue.

I’d learned that lesson the hard way. Polly had let her down more times than I could count, and although I’d never said a bad word about her mother in front of her, Quinn was smart.

She didn’t need me to say what she’d already figured out.

She knew who showed up for her and who didn’t.

And it broke my heart.

I gathered up my messy burger and attempted to change the subject.

“Hey, if you want to, you’re welcome to come by the brewery this weekend and help me paint.

” My daughter gave me a withering look over her burger, making me laugh.

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to. But don’t forget about family dinner at Uncle Brody’s this Sunday. ”

“No way will I forget about the opportunity to have real food.”

“Are you saying my cooking doesn’t count?” I pretended to look offended.

“It’s kinda hard to say that when you haven’t cooked in weeks, Dad.”

“Fair.” I nodded toward the book sitting next to her before I took a bite of my burger. “Is it good?”

She nodded. “It’s awesome. Kinda dark but in a really cool way.”

“Delaney recommended it?”

“Yeah.” Quinn looked up. “She picked it out just for me. She knew I’d like it.”

I smiled to myself, letting that bit of information settle. I hated to admit it, but I had no clue what kind of books my daughter would like to read.

I focused on my burger again and took another bite, trying not to picture the bookstore owner next door with her calm voice and quiet strength choosing a book just for my kid, but the image snuck in anyway, taking up space in my brain without permission.

Oh yeah, Sunday dinner with my family couldn’t come soon enough. I needed a minute to breathe and clear my head.