The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(48)
“We should probably get these kids to bed,” Avery says.
Mason settles the bill, then lifts Maisie out of her booster seat. She goes boneless in his arms, and he carries her outside the restaurant. He and Daniel do a complicated handshake as they say good night. Avery gives me a hug and I thank her again for watching Maisie.
Mason carefully buckles Maisie into her car seat, and she wakes for only the briefest moment before nodding off and sleeping all the way back to the hotel. He carries her into the house, up the stairs to her room, and deposits her gently on the bed.
“Thanks for, you know … everything,” he says as we stand in the hallway. Maybe hallways are our thing. “I’m sorry I made it weird last night.”
“I did that.”
He laughs quietly. “Yeah, maybe you did.”
As we stand there on the brink of something we both feel but neither of us is ready to identify, I slip my arms around his waist and hold on until I feel his arms encircle me. I don’t kiss him. He doesn’t kiss me. We simply hold each other for a few long moments, and when I let go, he does the same.
“Good night,” I say, opening my bedroom door.
The little half grin he shoots me is nearly as devastating as his full-blown smile, and I wonder if not kissing him was a mistake. “Night, Rachel.”
CHAPTER 17
Kilig
Filipino
“the feeling of blushing and getting butterflies in your stomach when you see someone you love”
The next two weeks give me no time to think about hugs or sexy smiles or anything other than opening the taproom in time for the Fourth of July—and book club. We’re flooded with deliveries: a pair of leather sofas for the taproom lounge area, a kilim-style indoor/outdoor rug, a large old-fashioned map of Kelleys Island in an ornate gilt frame, a beer menu board for behind the bar, kegs of beer from other breweries, an outdoor movie screen and projector, and twenty-four teal Adirondack chairs—twenty for the cabin verandahs and the rest for the front porch of the house. We also get a box filled with cat accessories.
A paving company comes from Oak Harbor to lay cement for the parking lot and pave the gravel driveway. A sign company out of Sandusky builds a beautiful wooden sign marking the entrance to the Limestone. The stone patio behind the brewhouse is completed, along with a firepit and walking paths to the cabins.
The Wednesday before book club, I’m buying more William Holbrook Beard prints online when the construction manager comes to the office to tell me the first cabin is finished. I drop everything and follow him out to the building site. The exterior of the cabin hasn’t changed significantly since the last time I looked, but inside, the bathroom has fixtures and the kitchenette is complete. The first bed—the old-fashioned double from Vivian’s shop—is assembled with the mattress and box spring in place, and there’s a sleeper sofa in the middle of the room, waiting to be positioned.
“I’ll make Keith available tomorrow and Friday to help with anything you need when it comes to arranging furniture and hanging pictures,” he says. “And we’re just about done assembling the chairs.”
“I appreciate that so much. Thank you.”
As much as I’d love to dive straight into decorating the cabin, I force myself to return to the office and finish up my artwork order before picking Maisie up from Avery’s house. I’m serving up dinner at home when Mason comes in from the brewery. With the opening drawing near, we’d reverted to our plate-in-the-oven/tea-on-the-kitchen-island routine, so I’m surprised to see him.
“Smells great. What is it?”
“I just threw some orzo, black beans, corn, and green chiles in the Crock-Pot with a little enchilada sauce and spices,” I say. “It’s nothing special, but it’s tasty.”
He fills a bowl and joins Maisie and me at the table.
“I hired a couple of bartenders today,” Mason says, dredging a flour tortilla through his bowl. “Tomas is from Slovakia, Lenna is from Estonia, and they both have bar experience. Once we’re booking the cabins, I’d like to hire a couple more people for table service, but for now I think we’ll be okay with just two. How was your day?”
“The Adirondack chairs are ready for book club,” I say. “And I get to start decorating the first cabin tomorrow.”
“Need any help?”
“Not from you. I want it to be a surprise.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
After dinner, he loads the dishwasher so I can give Maisie a bath. Once her wet hair is combed and she’s in her pajamas, I let her watch Moana for the 6,521,943rd time.
“Do you have a minute?” Mason asks. “I want to show you something in the taproom.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The walk to the brewhouse is so different from when I first arrived on the island. The wheel ruts have been paved over, and the unruly grass has been tamed. There are flower beds along the driveway waiting to be filled with marigolds, red geraniums, and pink impatiens. Spotlights illuminate the front of the brewhouse and the sign by the front door that matches the one out along Division Street.
“That first day I pulled into the driveway, I would never have been able to envision this,” I say. “But now … it’s beautiful.”
“You did this.”