Page 138 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Then a left here,” I said. “And pull into that building on the right.”
Nothing about the place looked like a mechanic’s garage but I’d picked it because it had great potential. The majority of the long rectangular structure was dark red steel, but at the far end, the metal transitioned to wooden fascia where a small office had been separated from the warehouse.
My realtor had told me that it was originally built by an out-of-state furniture maker. He had moved to Prescott from California but the cold winters hadn’t agreed with him. He’d jumped at my cash offer, glad to finally sell the place.
I hopped out of the truck and made my way to the doors. Nick’s boots thudded on the pavement behind me. Tugging the keys out of my clutch, I unlocked the office’s glass door, hitting the light switch as I pushed inside.
“This is where I got my coffee table and the dining room set,” Nick said. He was casually looking around the office, running his fingers over the desk that still remained in its center.
His relaxed and easy demeanor was making my nerves spike. How was he able to function not knowing what we were doing here? I would have been a fumbling mess.
I walked further into the building, flicking on the many switches at the light panel. The warehouse came to life under the bright fluorescents hanging from the industrial ceiling.
My heels clicked across the cement floor as I walked to a table on the sidewall. On it was a handful of business cards that read Slater’s Station. I’d asked my restaurant project manager for a favor, and based on a picture I’d sent him of Nick’s sign, he had been able to have a graphic designer build a logo for the garage. The cards were just a mock-up but I thought they were amazing.
I just hoped that Nick liked them too.
I turned around and saw him standing in the center of the room. His arms were crossed over his chest and his legs planted wide.
“In the future, Wife, I’d prefer we make our real estate purchases together.”
My chin dropped. “What? You know I bought this building?”
“Found out this morning. Your realtor had coffee at the café after you two signed papers. Seth Balan was down there with his retired buddies. His first stop after coffee was the fire station.”
“I can’t believe this!” I yelled. “He ruined my surprise.”
The smirk on Nick’s face turned into a wide, white smile. “Oh, I was surprised, Emmy. When he told me you were buying this place and wanted to know what we were doing with it, I believe my exact words were, ‘What the fuck are you talk
ing about? I think I would know it if my wife was buying a warehouse.’ It took Balan nearly five minutes to stop laughing at me.”
“That man is a nuisance. He needs to get a job so he can stay out of other people’s business,” I snapped. No wonder Nick had been so casual on the drive over.
“He’s not even the worst of that old bunch. Just wait until you meet Silas’s dad, Elliot,” Nick said.
Throwing my hands in the air, I blew out a loud breath. “Now what do I do? I had this whole speech planned. But you know everything already so it doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“No. It’s stupid now.”
“Please?” he begged.
In a monotone and rushed voice, I told him what I’d been practicing all day. “Happy birthday, Nick. I bought this building for you so you could open up a garage of your own and finally have your dream job. If you decide that isn’t for you, that’s okay. I just wanted you to have the option. So here are your keys. You can do whatever you want with the space. I’ll support you no matter what. I love you and I can’t wait to celebrate so many more birthdays together.”
When I finished, I huffed out another breath. “There. That was my speech. All the time I spent worrying about it today was a waste of time. All because of that damn Seth Balan.”
With long strides, Nick crossed the room. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to surprise me,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “And I liked your speech, though you could have said it with a bit more feeling.”
His joke triggered an eye roll.
“It’s a great gift, Emmy. I don’t know that I deserve it.”
“Of course you do. You’re not mad that I bought it, are you?”
“No. I’d rather you spend your money on yourself instead of me. But I’m not mad,” he said.
“I can’t make that promise,” I said. “That money isn’t just mine anymore. It’s ours.”
