by J. H. Croix
Heartwood
The World of True North
J. H. Croix
Copyright © 2021 by J. H. Croix
All rights reserved.
This book was inspired by the True North Series written by Sarina Bowen. It is an original work that is published by Heart Eyes Press LLC.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To the friends when it just doesn’t matter how long it’s been—you know who you are.
Contents
Prologue
1. Belle
2. Tyler (Ty)
3. Belle
4. Ty
5. Belle
6. Ty
7. Belle
8. Ty
9. Belle
10. Belle
11. Ty
12. Belle
13. Ty
14. Ty
15. Belle
16. Belle
17. Ty
18. Belle
19. Ty
20. Belle
21. Ty
22. Belle
23. Ty
24. Ty
25. Belle
26. Ty
27. Belle
28. Ty
29. Belle
30. Ty
31. Belle
32. Belle
33. Ty
34. Belle
You Will Also Enjoy…
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Heartwood, noun: the dense inner part of a tree trunk, yielding the hardest timber. - Oxford Languages
Isabella (Belle)
Sirens flashed in the rearview mirror. For a second, I almost gunned it, but then I laughed. “No big,” I whispered to myself.
Slowing, I pulled off the side of the road, gravel flying up in the air. That should’ve cued me to the fact that maybe I was going faster than I thought. It didn’t. I felt freaking amazing. I knew I could sweet talk this cop out of that speeding ticket in a hot second.
A moment later, I tapped the button to roll down my window and smiled brightly at the police officer who looked awfully proper. He even had his hat on, which looked like a cowboy hat that missed the mark. “Hi there, what’s the problem?” I asked.
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle.”
Although I still felt great, a very distant bell rang in the back of my mind. “Excuse me?”
I was distracted for a moment when I saw another police car coming toward us in the other lane. My confusion grew when the vehicle angled across the road, stopping and parking in front of my car.
Marshaling my focus, I turned my attention back to the police officer by my window. “I’m not sure I understand what the problem is. Was I speeding?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other officer getting out of her car. She approached us, stopping beside my window as well. “Hello, ma’am, how are you doing?” she asked, her tone bright.
“Maybe you can explain,” I said, looking to her, still smiling, enough that my face was starting to hurt a little. “I’m not sure why he pulled me over and now he’s asked me to get out of the car.”
It all seemed too much to me for a speeding ticket. Surely, they’d see my point any minute now.
“Ma’am,” the officer with the hat intoned. “You’re under arrest for stealing a car.”
The female officer helpfully added, “That would be this vehicle.”
“You mean, car theft? Like that video game?” I chirped before laughing hysterically.
Much to my chagrin, they weren’t too amused and they arrested me. I couldn’t say how much later it was because I’d lost all track of time, but sometime later I was sitting across from a social worker named Janet.
No one had put me in a jail cell yet, and I’d asked them not to call my parents. For God’s sake, we did not need to worry my parents. I just needed to clear up this rather epic misunderstanding.
“Isabella—” Janet began.
“Didn’t I already tell you to call me Belle?” I interjected. I was getting annoyed. This whole night was putting a serious damper on my good mood. I had been in an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic mood.
“You did. My apologies,” Janet replied easily. She was very mellow. “Can we rewind a little bit?”
“To when?” I straightened in my chair. I could handle this. It was merely a misunderstanding. The police didn’t understand, but then they brought Janet in, and she hadn’t put me in handcuffs yet either.
“To your last class yesterday.”
Puzzled, I blinked and shook my head a little. “My last class was today. I swear, you can check on it. Just call Professor—” I paused abruptly when I had trouble finding his name in my brain. It felt like my thoughts were rushing by, blowing like loose leaves in a fierce wind. I couldn’t slow them down and focus long enough to catch one.
Janet cocked her head to the side, her calm gaze assessing me. I suddenly felt exhausted. “I’m really tired. Can I go home, please?”
“You don’t seem to understand what happened,” Janet said, her tone kind.
“I don’t think you understand,” I muttered, annoyance pricking at me.
“Let’s try again, shall we?”
Okay, I was fucking done with this whole thing. “Look, I suppose I was speeding. I didn’t steal anyone’s car. I borrowed it. Just call Professor Talton, he’ll explain.” I almost jumped up and down with glee because I managed to pluck his name out of my jumbled thoughts. My sense of glee passed as quickly as it appeared, another one of those leaves fluttering by and out of sight. I was feeling a little frantic. “I need to go home. You’re treating me like, well, like I’m a criminal. I’m not. I am an honors law school student. And, you can bet your ass I will be getting the best attorney I can find to deal with whatever this is.”
When Janet’s warm eyes stared calmly back at me, it felt as if I were crash landing all of the sudden. I burst into tears. That was the last thing I remembered. Until I woke up in the hospital.
1
Belle
A year later
I rolled my car to a stop and cut the engine. Quiet settled around me inside my compact car. I looked ahead. The Speakeasy Taproom was emblazoned in whimsical script on a sign on the renovated old mill building. The river was visible behind the building with the water glittering under the afternoon sunshine. A warm feeling spun around my heart.
I had really wanted this job. My nerves were shaky, but I was getting used to that feeling. I took a deep breath and grabbed my purse before climbing out of the car. I lifted my chin and smoothed my hand over my hair as I walked quickly through the side entrance. The executive chef, who would be my boss, had told me to find her in the staff break room.
I loved food, and I loved to cook. It’s just I felt a little out of my element because this place was new and had opened with a splash. It was already known as an up and coming gastropub and brewery in Vermont with word traveling fast along the winding roads of the rural state.
It’s okay, you’re okay. That was the best little mantra I’d been able to come up with so far. It wasn’t glamorous, or even remotely creative, but it would have to do. I paused and looked around, not certain where to find the break room. My interview had taken place in the morning when the restaurant was closed, so we’d met out front.
“Oh, there you are,” a voice called. Turning, I saw Phoebe walking through a wide entrance that led to the kitchen.
“Oh, hi,” I said, lifting my hand in a little wave.
“Your timing is perfect,” she said when she stopped beside me.
“Didn’t you say
two o’clock?” I asked, reflexively glancing down at my watch.
She smiled, laughing softly. “I did. I’ve been so busy I lost track of time. Come with me, let me show you what’s back here,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her.
We passed by what must’ve been a storage room that contained an assortment of restaurant supplies. Phoebe paused and spun her arm in an arc. “We have two offices here, cold and dry storage, the walk-in freezer, and the brewing room.” Pointing past the door where I’d entered, she added, “That’s the staff break room. You can leave your things in there. Hang on, I want you to meet the general manager and have him show you around.” She knocked on a closed door. “Hey Ty!” she called. “Got a few minutes?”
One of my brain cells fired off of memory. I’d once known a Ty, back in college, back when I had my shit together. It felt like forever ago. It was hard to imagine feeling like I’d ever have it together again.
Nervous though I was, I knew once I settled in and got to know the people I was working with, I would be fine. After my unexpected, ahem, arrest and subsequent night at the hospital, I’d lucked into a job as a chef at a restaurant in Burlington when the regular chef went on maternity leave. A friend had hooked me up. I’d loved it and felt like I’d found my stride.
Before that, my life had been a giant ball of stress. While dealing with a full-time course load in law school, I’d been an intern in a law program, basically doing free legal work on the side, at a high-powered law firm that pushed my stress through the stratosphere.
“Now,” Phoebe said, when she looked back at me as we waited for the mysterious Ty to appear.
“Did I hear you're from Burlington? What's that like?"
I nodded. “Yup. That’s where I grew up. Vermont born and bred. It’s a nice little city and fun for a day trip if you need a change of pace.”
“Good to know. I’d never set foot in Vermont before I came here.” Her lips quirked in a grin.
“Hey, Phoebe, what do you need?” The door beside us opened along with that question.
A prickle raced up my spine. I knew that voice. Like intimately knew.
Turning, my eyes landed on Tyler Connor. I swallowed and tried to take a breath as my hormones sat up and took a good long look. Oblivious to my state, my new boss smiled at Ty. “Come on out. I want you to meet Isabella, and I was hoping you could show her around.”
Ty’s eyes met mine, one brow hitching up in recognition. My belly did a little flip followed by a shimmy. He stepped into the hallway, stopping beside us. “Hey there.” He dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
His eyes bounced from mine to Phoebe’s. She began, “This is—”
Ty interjected, “You can pass on the introduction. We know each other. You must be the new chef.”
“You know each other?” Phoebe’s eyes shifted curiously between us.
While my hormones ignored my orders to chill out and started cheering at getting up close with Ty, I nodded. “Yes,” I replied, my voice sounding squeaky. “We were in college together.”
“Yeah, we were friends,” Ty said smoothly.
I didn’t know if “friends" encompassed the seriously smoking hot nights we shared, but it worked. All fiery fun, and no strings attached. I knew Ty very well, intimately speaking, that is. I didn’t need Phoebe knowing all that though.
Phoebe nodded. “Isabella will be our new chef, mostly working the afternoon and evening shifts. I was hoping you could make sure to introduce her to the waitstaff and bar staff. I need to deal with some issues with ordering.”
Ty nodded along politely. She looked toward me. “Give me a half an hour, and we can meet to go over the menus. Will that work? Ty will give you a tour of the place in the meantime. Sound good?”
“Of course,” I squeaked. Because squeaking was apparently my new way of speaking. Phoebe smiled between us and hurried off, leaving me alone with my former college hookup.
The five years since I’d seen Ty had been good to him. Ty was seriously easy on the eyes with a tall, rangy build. He was wearing faded black jeans, the fabric molding to his muscled thighs like a caress. He wore a navy blue T-shirt that didn’t do much of anything but show off his muscled shoulders and chest. He hooked his thumb in a pocket, and his smoky gray eyes met mine. The air felt lit with a charge, memories falling like hot cinders into the loaded space.
His dark hair was a little shaggy, curling on the ends at his neck. One side of his mouth kicked up in that easy grin I recalled. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he commented.
I felt my cheeks heat and tried to keep my expression nonchalant. Ty knew nothing of what had passed for me in the last few years. I didn’t need to worry about that. I managed something like a shrug and a smile. “I guess I could say the same for you. How are you?” I asked, honestly curious.
Ty had been a hockey star in college until he badly injured his knee. I recalled the chatter that he might go on to the pros fading after that injury. It didn’t change how hot he was, or how appealing he’d been to me then, and apparently now.
“Doing pretty good these days,” he said easily. “Do you go by Isabella now?”
I shrugged. “You can still call me Belle. I only met Phoebe at my interview, so we haven’t yet reached the nickname stage.”
Those smoky grays held mine for a few beats, darkening slightly, just enough to give a sharp little kick in the flanks of my pulse. Because we were definitely in the nickname stage, or we had been, once upon a time.
A grin flashed on his face again. “All right, Belle. Let me take you on that tour. We’ll start out front.”
He led me out to the bar and restaurant area, while I tried to order my pulse to stand down. The old mill had been lovingly renovated, retaining the mill’s bones while giving it a modern flare. The restaurant area had tall ceilings and massive windows that looked out over the river behind it. The rough-hewn beams were visible, as were the supporting posts, which were strung with decorative lights. The space had an open feel with shafts of sunlight falling through the tall leaded glass windows and giving the entire space a warm glow from the late afternoon sunshine. The main bar was in the center of the space with counters encircling it, while there was another small bar in the front.
Ty gestured toward a man at the bar, stocking the liquor shelf to one side. “This is Matteo. He’s a bar manager,” he said, gesturing between us. “This is Belle. She’s a new chef. She’ll be here for the afternoon and evening shift today. We’re supposed to be nice.”
Matteo chuckled, a grin stretching across his face. “Hey there, Belle.” Tall with dark hair and eyes, he gave off a warm, easy going vibe. As I shook his hand, he added, “My daughter is going to love knowing I work with a Belle.”
“Really?”
His grin deepened. “She loves Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
Just as Ty chuckled in response, another customer approached the bar. “Good to meet you. Welcome to Speakeasy,” Matteo said with a nod as he spun away.
“This is the restaurant,” Ty said, sweeping his arm in a quick arc as he glanced to me.
He lifted an opening on the counter at the bar, and I slipped through in front of him. My hand brushed against his, and the glancing touch sent a sizzle up my arm. Jesus. That old chemistry was definitely still burning hot between us.
Ty, polite as ever, introduced me to the waitstaff as they passed by the bar and explained that they had staggered shifts at the bar and restaurant. “Aside from whoever’s on duty for management, the waitstaff shifts vary more. It’s a restaurant and bar though, so the schedule’s rarely set in stone. We all pitch in and cover if needed.” He sidestepped to get out of the way of Matteo reaching for a pair of glasses. Catching my eye, he nudged his chin toward an empty barstool. “Speakeasy has a ghost.”
My eyes followed his, and I stared at the empty and innocent looking barstool. My lips twitched when I looked back at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Hamish used to own this bu
ilding. Sometimes customers complain that stool is cold. We think he likes to sit there.”
I grinned. “I love that. I’ll make sure to be nice if I sense he’s nearby.”
Ty chuckled before turning away to reply to something Matteo asked.
After that, he took me upstairs where there was an events room. When I noticed the small stage at one end of the open space, I glanced up. “Do you still DJ sometimes?”
He flashed a grin. “When I have time, but that’s not often.”
I followed him back downstairs and into the staff area. He pointed to the office where he’d appeared. “This is a shared office, and you might see any of the owners in here. There are four owners, by the way.”
“Four?”
Ty grinned, and my belly did a little swoop. He really needed to stop grinning. Better yet, I needed to get my hormones to behave. “You got it. You know Giltmaker Brewery, right?”
I nodded. “I knew they were involved here. They make Goldenpour.”
“Ah, you get an A, but then you always were a straight-A student,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes, keeping silent on that topic. Ty was one-hundred percent correct. I’d never gotten anything other than an A in my life. Until I dropped out of law school after making a glorious and rather spectacular mess.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Lyle Giltmaker’s part owner, along with Alec Rossi who owns The Gin Mill next door. Alec’s uncle, Otto Rossi, is also an investor. Then, there’s Griffin Shipley of Shipley Ciders. If you’re familiar with the area, the Shipley family’s pretty well-known. They’ve got a big ol’ apple orchard in Tuxbury.”
