years. Not since Travis had walked into her first year master’s course, Foundations of Managerial Economics, sat down beside her and asked her to have coffee with him after class. The rest, as they say, was history.
Too bad it was a history she’d rather forget.
“I think it might be good for you.”
“And it might not.” But instinct had her head swiveling to look in Travis’s direction again. Common sense had her stopping short and returning her gaze to Grace before she could embarrass herself. Again.
“You sure you don’t have something or someone else in mind?” There was a teasing note in Grace’s tone.
Mal gave what she hoped was an airy toss of her head. “I repeat, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Grace didn’t bother to hide her smirk.
Mal decided to ignore that. Not that Grace wasn’t right. Nope, the problem was that Grace was right and Mal wasn’t fooling anyone. She exhaled. Still, she wasn’t ready to give in so easily. Because down that road lay danger. She’d be admitting her leftover feelings for Travis to Grace, who would mention it to Owen who, along with his warped idea that she and Travis might actually have a future together, would try to throw them together and then...who knew?
No, it was best to bury any lingering feelings she might have and move on. Maybe now, faced with the object of her discontent, she’d find it easier to work toward that goal. It was certainly no longer abstract.
“So, what do you say?” Grace gave her an encouraging nod. “You willing to give it a try?”
Mal knew she should say yes. Really, what could the harm be? That she didn’t meet anyone? She already wasn’t meeting anyone. That someone might break her heart? At this point, she wasn’t sure it could ever be put back together again anyway. “I...I’m not sure.”
Grace’s eyes tilted down at the corners. “What about if I asked you to do it as my wedding present?”
What was it with Grace and Owen wanting her to do something as their wedding gift? “I already bought you something amazing.”
But Grace didn’t respond, just watched her with hopeful eyes. Mal couldn’t deny those hopeful eyes.
She huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.” And hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.
TRAVIS SPENT THE two weeks post wedding not in a state of wedded bliss. But since he hadn’t been the one to get married, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. The lack of other bliss was more disappointing.
Sure, it might have been foolish to think that simply by apologizing Mal might forgive him. But she wouldn’t even agree to talk to him. He didn’t count the few minutes of conversation at the reception because...well, because he didn’t. He still had some things to say. Many somethings.
Fortunately, he had plenty to keep him busy so that he only spent half his time thinking about Mal, calling Mal and thinking about calling Mal. Okay, maybe a little more than half. Three quarters, tops.
He looked out the car window as Sara Thompson, his real estate agent, drove and chatted about the next potential bar location on the list.
The city hadn’t changed much in the three years he’d been away. There was new construction, but that was the norm these days. A formerly derelict hotel had been torn down to make way for new condos, more coffee shops, another few sushi restaurants. One of the good things about the constant gentrification and renovation was that there was always property for sale, and property was something Travis needed.
He had no intention of returning to Vancouver to work for someone else. No, now he had a taste for ownership, for being the boss. And now he had enough money to qualify for a loan on his own and no longer needed another signatory or the financial backing of an investor. It was a good feeling. Proof that he’d made it.
The Kincaids weren’t well-to-do. Travis hadn’t grown up with much. A small house with well-loved furniture, two pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans—one set for church, one set for everyday—and the knowledge that if he wanted more than the tiny town where he’d been born, he’d have to do it on his own.
But they’d had love. His mother and grandma were quick to shower affection and praise, even his father, in his own silent way, showed he cared. A small proud smile, a solid clap on the back and a grunt for a job well done. Travis knew he and his brother, Shane, had been lucky. Many of the kids they’d gone to school with hadn’t been so fortunate as to have that love and support.
Until Travis, the Kincaids had always been blue collar and they liked it that way. He was different. The thought of working at the mill, running the machines, driving the forklift, always with the worry of closure hanging over his head as more and more companies downsized or shut down completely just wasn’t for him.
He much preferred the difficult and often backbreaking work of standing on his feet all day, handling customers with charm and overseeing the budget and obscenely thin margins that separated restaurant successes from failures. It exhilarated him.
The car slowed as Sara pulled into a covered parking garage still extolling the virtues of the space they were about to see. Travis already knew the details, but he listened because he didn’t feel like talking. They exited the parking garage out onto the cobblestone streets of Gastown, the city’s oldest neighborhood.
“I think you’ll find this space has a lot to offer.” Sara’s heels clicked as they walked. “Don’t expect it to be perfect. It’s been closed for just over a year.”
Closer to two years. Travis had done his homework. This place had been one he’d wanted back then, before he and Mal had decided to leave the country and try their hand in Aruba. But the old owners hadn’t been ready to sell, and he and Mal hadn’t been ready to wait. Now, it was as if the universe was correcting a wrong.
“There’s a lot of charm under the dust and debris.”
“Debris?” Travis’s research hadn’t turned up debris. Just that after many years of struggling, the restaurant that used to be here had finally turned up its toes.
“Nothing that can’t be cleared out in a few days. A few weeks, at most.”
Travis decided not to ask any more questions about debris that may or may not require a semitrailer to haul it away, but to wait until he actually saw it. The fact that the building might not be as ready to move in as he’d hoped was a small obstacle in his path. Anticipation tingled over his skin. He just wanted to see it with his own eyes.
“The building was originally built in 1910 and the structure is sound. You’ll note many of the original details have survived.”
They clicked down the sidewalk, Sara still rattling off notes about the property. But Travis no longer heard them. He only had eyes and ears for his new bar. Or his soon-to-be new bar.
The door stuck even after Sara unlocked it and Travis had to lean his shoulder into it to open it, but that was all part of the charm. The interior was dim, only one of the overhead lights turned on when Sara flipped
