Chapter 17

17

JACE

T hat evening, Jace's arms ached from the relentless swing of the hammer, his shirt clinging to his back with the honest sweat of hard labor. Around him, the air vibrated with the sounds of renovation—the rhythmic thuds of nail guns, the high-pitched whir of saws slicing through fresh lumber, and the soft shuffling of workers painting walls in hues that promised new beginnings.

"Careful there, Jace," called out the bank manager, who’d volunteered to help. He was a wiry man whose eyes darted nervously to the entrance of the lodge every so often, as if expecting the formidable Candace Prescott to storm in at any moment. "Wouldn't want to hit your thumb, not with everything hanging in the balance."

Jace grunted, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the sting of worry gnawing at him. "Appreciate the concern, but it's the lodge that's hanging in the balance, not my thumb."

The bank manager laughed weakly, mopping his brow with a handkerchief before scurrying away as the door creaked open, though it was only Felicity who stepped inside, her eyes sparkling like the fresh snow outside.

"Jace! I brought reinforcements,” she called, laden down with an enormous thermos and a plate of treats, the scent of chocolate and spices mingling with the smell of paint and wood.

"Ah, the cavalry arrives," Jace replied, setting down his tools to wipe his hands on his jeans. He admired how she moved through the chaos with an effortless grace, the hair framing her face catching the dim light filtering through the dust-speckled windows.

"Thought you could use a break," Felicity said, setting the tray down on a newly installed countertop. "I've been experimenting for the New Year's Eve menu. Tell me what you think."

He picked up a mug, the warmth seeping into his cold fingers. Taking a sip of the hot chocolate, rich and velvety with a hint of cinnamon, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the flavors work their magic. "This is... incredible."

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "You always know just what to say."

"Only when it comes to your baking," he teased, biting into one of her specialty treats, the sweetness melting on his tongue. "Everything else, I'm pretty much winging it."

"Good to know I have at least one talent that impresses you," she quipped with a laugh that was part music, part solace.

"More than one, Felicity. Believe me." His voice softened, and he found himself caught in the pull of her gaze, a dangerous tide of arousal rising within him.

They stood there in a bubble of intimacy amidst the clatter and clamor, two souls finding quiet in the eye of the storm. It was a moment of respite, a shared dream sweetened by sugar and hope yet shadowed by the specter of the lodge's uncertain future.

"Jace?" Felicity's voice cut through the thrum of his racing heart. "Whatever happens, this place... it's more than just a building. It’s going to do so much for the community."

"Thanks, Felicity. That means a lot." But even as he spoke, the echo of the bank's threat reverberated in his mind—a balloon payment looming like a guillotine over all he had built.

She seemed to sense his turmoil, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "You're not alone in this. We'll find a way. We could always use the bakery as collateral."

He looked down at her hand on his sleeve, touched by the enormity of her offer and her willingness to stand by him, but he knew he couldn't accept. Her dreams were not his to gamble with.

"Come on," Jace said instead, taking her hand and leading her away from the construction site. "Let's go upstairs. I want to show you something."

As they ascended to the owner's suite, the noise of the renovation faded into a distant hum. He opened the door to the bedroom, where the evening light cast a warm glow on the bare walls waiting for a personal touch.

"I love the feel of your flat, the warmth and intimacy," he said, watching her reaction closely. "Will you help me bring that same feeling here?"

Felicity's eyes lit up, the prospect of creation seeming to banish whatever it was that had been mulling around in the dark shadows of her mind. "I'd love to, Jace. Let's make this place as special as the memories we're going to create in it."

And for a spellbinding second, as they stood amidst the potential of empty rooms and unspoken promises, Jace allowed himself to believe that together, they could conquer any challenge, financial or otherwise.

The following day, Jace's hands were steady as he dialed back the bank manager's number. He worried that there would be no good news given in the phone call. In fact, he had a feeling there was only impending doom. He had known the call was coming—felt it in his bones—but hearing the finality in the bank manager's voice was like an icy plunge into the reality of his situation.

"Jace, I'm sorry," the bank manager said, his voice barely concealing the tremor that Jace knew was not due to the cold weather. "The board is firm. They won't approve the loan, not even against a full personal guarantee."

"Is this because of Prescott and Sapphire Development?" Jace's question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory.

There was a pause, a silent confirmation before the bank manager continued, "I'm afraid there's little I can do. Sapphire Development holds considerable sway here, Jace. Several of the board members were quite impressed with her vision for a resort up at Northwind. You might want to start considering other financial avenues."

"Thank you for the advice," Jace replied somewhat sarcastically, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He replaced the receiver gently, resisting the urge to shatter something, anything, to match the chaos roiling within him.

Felicity watched him from across the room, her eyes reflecting concern as she pushed up her glasses, a silent gesture of support. She moved closer, her presence a balm to his fraying nerves. "What did they say?"

"They're turning me down," he admitted, feeling the warmth drain from his body. "No loan. No way to make the balloon payment. I need to find an investor, or I’ll lose everything; my family legacy will be lost."

She reached out, her touch light on his arm. "We'll figure this out, Jace. I know there are a lot of pending expenses, but it’s just the balloon payment, right?"

“Yeah, ‘just,’” he laughed.

Her optimism was infectious, even in the face of despair, and Jace felt a small inkling of hope amidst the dread. He let out a long breath, trying to focus on her comforting scent, vanilla and cinnamon, rather than the acrid taste of defeat.

"Maybe we should take a break from all this stress," Felicity suggested, a playful twinkle lighting up her eyes. "You look like you could use some distraction."

"Distraction sounds perfect," he agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. He caught her hand, entwining their fingers. "Help me forget about bank managers and balloon payments for a while?"

"Challenge accepted," she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek as she leaned in close.

For a moment, as their laughter mingled and their worries faded into the background, Jace allowed himself the luxury of forgetting the looming threat to his family legacy. But as the laughter died down, the stark reality settled back in—a shadow over their fleeting joy.

He turned to her, his eyes earnest. "But seriously, Felicity, I’m going to need to think about investors. Someone who believes in this place as much as I do."

"We do,” she corrected. “Let's put our heads together, then." Her resolve matched and bolstered his own. "Your lodge is more than just a business, Jace. It's a home. A sanctuary. And I won't let it fall without a fight."

In that moment, Jace saw not just the woman who had filled his days with light and his nights with unbridled passion but a fierce ally, ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with him against the coming storm. Together, they could brave the uncertainty of the future, their bond an anchor in the tempest of doubt and fear that threatened to engulf them both.

Jace's muscles ached as he lifted another panel into place, the sharp tang of fresh paint stinging his nostrils. Around him, the lodge buzzed with the sounds of hammering and sawing, a symphony of construction that spoke of progress and the promise of celebrations to come. New Year’s Eve was approaching, and that meant, hopefully, the grand unveiling of all they'd worked for, yet Jace was worried that it would all be for naught. His uncertainty about finding an investor or a loan of some kind in time was a constant worry.

"Watch your step there, Jace," called out one of the many villagers who had volunteered, a burly man named George who had become a fixture in the renovations.

"Thanks, George," Jace replied, steadying himself on the ladder. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and glanced around. This place wasn't just a building; it was a testament to the community that had come together to support him, and now, he needed to protect it more than ever.

As all the workers—paid and volunteer alike—flocked to her, he wondered if they truly came to help or just to get Felicity’s baked goodies. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few tendrils escaping to frame her gentle eyes. The volunteers greeted her with smiles and appreciation, always eager for a taste of her culinary creations.

"Thought you could use a little break," she said, setting the tray down on a makeshift table.

"Your timing is impeccable, as always," Jace said, climbing down from the ladder to join her, and giving her a quick kiss.

The two of them found a quiet corner away from the bustle, and Felicity poured him a cup of hot coffee, watching him over the rim of her own mug. The warmth of the liquid seemed to seep into his bones, chasing away some of the chill from the winter air that crept through the unfinished walls.

"Try these," Felicity urged, offering him a plate of treats. "I made them with the event in mind."

Jace bit into one, the flavors bursting on his tongue—sweet, with a hint of spice. "Incredible," he murmured, his gaze meeting hers. There was a tenderness there, a shared understanding that went beyond the exchange of compliments.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Felicity asked, her voice a whisper against the noise around them.

"Always," Jace replied, leaning in closer.

"I've always dreamed of writing a wildly successful romance novel," she confessed, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her mug. "I’m worried that I’ll never even get it started, much less finished or published."

Jace reached out, taking her hand in his. "You will. There’s nothing keeping you from trying. Nothing."

She smiled, but there was a wistfulness to it. "What about you? What do you fear?"

He looked away for a moment, his grip tightening on her hand. "I fear waking up to find this place gone, that I've let everyone down. And lately, I'm afraid of how much I..." His voice trailed off, his confession hanging in the air like mist.

"Of how much you what?" Felicity prodded gently.

"Of how much I need you," Jace finished, finally meeting her gaze again. There was a raw honesty in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed.

Their conversation drifted then, to dreams of success and the warmth of finding a kindred spirit. They talked of the lodge thriving, of book signings in cozy corners, of creating a sanctuary where stories—and love—could flourish.

As they talked, the lodge around them faded into the background, the sounds of construction giving way to the rhythm of their hearts. In that quiet moment, they found solace in each other's fears and dreams, their connection deepening amidst the chaos of sawdust and uncertainty.

Later that night, the soft glow of the fire flickered across Felicity's features, casting a warm light that danced in her eyes as she leaned closer, her breath a sweet whisper against Jace's skin. The taste of cinnamon from the hot chocolate still lingered on his lips when the shrill ring of his phone cut through the intimate cocoon they had woven around themselves.

"Sorry," Jace mumbled, reluctantly pulling away to fish the device from his pocket. His thumb swiped the screen, and he brought the phone to his ear. "Jace Winterborne speaking."

Felicity watched, her heart sinking as Jace's expression morphed from serene contentment to a mask of disbelief and dread. He was silent for a long moment after the voice on the other end stopped speaking, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

"Understood," he said tersely before ending the call. His hand dropped to his side, the phone now an unwanted weight.

"What is it?" Felicity asked, her voice tinged with concern. She reached out, resting her hand on his forearm, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

Jace exhaled heavily, his eyes meeting hers—a storm brewing in the once-clear green depths. "The bank," he started, the words heavy and bitter on his tongue. "They're threatening to sell my note to Sapphire Development. If I can't make the balloon payment, I will lose the lodge."

The gravity of the situation settled between them like a thick fog. Felicity's mind raced, thoughts of her own dreams momentarily set aside in the face of Jace's despair. Her bakery, her sanctuary, the place where sugar and flour spun sweet tales—it could be part of the solution.

“The bakery…” she started.

“No,” he said firmly.

She saw the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his hands formed fists at his sides. But Felicity also saw the man who had opened his home to her, who laughed with her over burnt cookies and shared quiet dreams in the dead of night.

"Jace, we're in this together," she insisted, her voice carrying the weight of every unspoken promise between them. "Let me help."

His gaze softened, and for a moment, they were back in their bubble of warmth and shared secrets, the threat of financial ruin temporarily banished by the bond forming between them.

But reality was a relentless intruder, and as the moon cast its silvery light on all that was below, they knew the fight to save their dreams was just beginning.

Jace's hand trembled ever so slightly as he guided Felicity up the narrow staircase leading to the owner's suite atop the ski lodge. The scent of fresh pine from the newly installed wainscoting mingled with the lingering aroma of sawdust, an olfactory testament to the hard work poured into every corner of his dream.

"Watch your step here," he murmured, his voice low and protective as they ascended the final steps. The landing opened into a spacious room where moonlight spilled across the unfinished hardwood floor.

Felicity's gaze swept over the space, taking in the vaulted ceilings and large windows that framed the majestic view of snow-laden pines and distant mountains. She turned to Jace, her eyes bright with unspoken questions, reflecting the dying light like twin pools of liquid amber.

"It's not much yet," Jace began, his words laced with a vulnerability he usually kept shielded. He gestured towards the barren walls and empty spaces where furniture ought to be. "But I want this place to feel like a home. Like somewhere you could curl up by the fire with a good book and forget the world outside."

He watched the play of emotions on her face, the way her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak, only to close again in contemplation. A stray lock of hair had escaped her bun, and without thinking, he reached out to tuck it behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her skin with the lightest touch.

"Jace," she said softly, her hand finding its way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. "I'd love nothing more than to help you create a sanctuary here. A place that reflects the man I've come to know, the one who pours his soul into everything he touches."

His throat tightened with emotion, gratitude swirling within him like a warm tide. Here was this incredible woman, offering not just her design expertise but a piece of her heart. And though the world outside threatened to crumble his dreams to dust, in this moment, in the quiet solace of her acceptance, Jace felt invincible.

“Felicity,” he groaned as he pulled her close, her name escaping from his lips like a desperate prayer, a plea for strength and reassurance in the face of the unknown.

Their intertwined bodies stood as a symbol of their unbreakable bond, forged through passion and unwavering conviction. As they faced the daunting challenges ahead, their spirits wove together like tendrils of a flame, ready to fight against any storm that dared to challenge them.