by Erika Kelly
“That’s fair.” Sometimes, he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. On some level, she still clung to the dream that Chanel would call, and she’d be on the next jet. “I’d like to make an addendum to our business deal.”
He cracked a smile. “I’m listening.”
“If Jack Abrams calls and offers me a contract, I’m out of here. That goes for Chanel or Givenchy, too.” She gave him a teasing smile.
“Got it.”
“Other than that, I’m in.”
He grew serious. “Okay, then we have to plan the next steps carefully. The launch matters in terms of marketing.”
She knew her world had turned upside down—and been shaken violently—when Gray Bowie talked about marketing. But, once again, he was spot on. “Once I get settled, I’ll map out the whole game plan. I’ve got it from here.”
“I think you missed the part where I’m in business with you.”
“Aren’t you heading out to Titans? And God knows where you’ll go after that.”
“I’m coming back right after. Gotta train.”
That pinch of disappointment snapped her out of it. As sincere as he sounded, Gray was not in business with her. He’d set her up—which was incredibly generous of him—before taking off, back to his life as an extreme athlete and nomad. “Oh, yeah? Which competition’s next?” She didn’t follow surfing events.
“I’m training for the big one.”
“Wait, you’re on the championship tour?” For all his medals and trophies, Gray only entered competitions when he felt like it. He’d never wanted to be tied down, so he didn’t join teams.
“Hell, no. I’m talking about boarding.”
“I don’t understand.” Until she did. “Wait, you’re going for the Olympics?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Hold your horses. You’re committing to a sport?” And then it struck her. “Gray, why’re you doing Titans if you’re training for the Olympics?”
He shrugged. “I got the invitation. About twenty minutes before we crashed into our living room.”
“Gray.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Does your coach know?”
“First of all, there’s no team yet. That won’t happen until January. Secondly, my coach right now is Fin, and no, I haven’t told him.”
“Because he’ll lose his shit?”
He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Probably.”
“Oh, man. I don’t want to be there when he finds out you’re riding sixty-foot waves.”
“Won’t know the size till I get there. Or whether the event’s even on.”
Weather conditions controlled when Titans Invitational could be held. The participants would all just hang out and wait in tents and RVs. She remembered, because the guys had always dreamed of getting the invitation. For a while there, that was all they’d talked about. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Robert would be so jealous. But she shut that line of thought down cold. The two guys had been crazy competitive with each other, and she didn’t need to stir it up again.
Up ahead she spotted the Masterson’s house, right near the turn-off for the Bowie ranch. The familiar white fence of their horse training facility stood out against the green sage meadow. “I can’t believe I’m back here. I didn’t think I’d ever…” She glanced down at the cuticle she’d been smashing with a fingernail. “Well, I wanted to come back as an established fashion designer. Not as a struggling wannabe.”
“Pretty sure you’ve had a career designing wedding gowns for the House of Bellerose.”
She smiled.
“What?”
“Hearing Mr. Rough and Tough Athlete say, ‘House of Bellerose.’” She made her voice all cowboy-raspy on the last three words.
“That’s what Amelia said it’s called.” He smiled, big and broad. “Did I get it wrong?”
“No, it’s just funny to hear you say it, like you’ve got some Bellerose tuxedoes hanging in your closet.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Unless your last girlfriend bought you one to wear to her galas, I doubt it.”
“You’d be right. Remember Mr. Santorini?”
“Your dad’s tailor? Of course.”
“He still makes our suits.”
A chill swept through her, so real she rubbed her arms. This is the world I’m returning to. The one where the wealthy people went to Mr. Santorini for tailoring. Where teachers pitied her, and classmates barked at her.
The town infested with people she swore she’d never see again.
And she’d just committed to a business here. It would take at least six to eight months to make Callie and Delilah’s dresses, so that meant she’d be here at least a year.
Okay, but who knew what might happen. If she marketed well, she could attract Jack Abrams’s attention sooner than later. Anxiety pinched the back of her neck. And if she didn’t, she could become a seamstress. The plan had potential, but without the backing of Luc Bellerose, it was risky.
Gray’s hand came down over hers, so big and strong. “I know this is a big swerve. That show meant a lot to you.”
“It meant everything.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you?” As long as she’d known him, he’d flitted from one activity to another. Just when he’d gotten good at fencing, he’d switched to jazz guitar. Then, after a couple school performances, he’d dropped out of that. No wonder his dad hadn’t gotten him that electric guitar he’d wanted for his birthday.
He took his eyes off the road to give her a searching look. “I’m not sure where you’re going with that question.”
“Have you ever wanted something so much that you’d just die if you didn’t get it?”
He went quiet for a moment, attention back on the highway. She thought he wasn’t going to respond—which was an answer in itself—until he looked her right in the eye and gave a dead-serious, “Yes.”
It had never once occurred to her—she was just so used to the bachelor Bowies—but with Fin and Will settling down… “Are you and Amelia…”
“What?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“Together?”
“Amelia? Hell, no.” He shrugged. “We’re friends.”
He entered surfing and snowboarding competitions on a whim, jumped from one activity to another, and had never had a girlfriend. That’s Gray. Not all that invested in anything.
Passion. That was the difference between them. Knox’s career meant everything to her. She loved designing and making gowns, loved the materials, the beads and crystals, the feel of the seed pearls in her fingers, the smell of fabric freshly unrolled off the bolt.
Maybe things had come too easily to him, but Gray didn’t have passion for anything. That was sad. He’d never know the extreme ends of the emotional spectrum.
Then again, maybe that’s a good thing…he’d never experience the crushing disappointment of failure.
Nah. It was passion that would get her back on the right path. Passion that would make her dreams come true.
Gray Bowie was just a ship carrying her to the next port on this dark stretch of night.
With the windows open and the warm mountain air whipping Knox’s hair around her face, it took Gray back—way back—to all the times they’d hung out together.
He’d craved that time alone with her, even when he’d known it was wrong. He’d had no business hanging out with his best friend’s girlfriend.
Not when he’d loved her so fucking hard.
It sucked that, after all these years, being with her stirred it all up. Enough time had passed, he should be over it. Maybe it was muscle memory. The habit of wanting her.
“What’re all these cars doing here?” She unbuckled before he’d even hit the brakes.
“We’re just getting the place cleaned up.” He slowed, parking haphazardly at the side of the bunkhouse.
“You move fast.”
“Well, I’ve got a plane to catch.
” He hauled out her suitcase and caught up with her. “You can use one of our trucks while you’re here. Get your own groceries, whatever you need.”
She stopped on the patch of grass and turned to him, put a warm hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
The thrill of it scuttled down his spine. What are you, fourteen? No, he was a grown man, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d topple back into that hellhole of wanting a woman he couldn’t have. He gave a taut nod and continued on.
“It looks exactly the same,” she said.
Fifty years ago, back when this had been a working ranch, the cowhands had lived here. But neither his dad nor his uncle had had any interest in ranching, so Gray and his brothers had turned it into a hangout. They’d had the best parties in the large, renovated rectangular building. Over time, they’d covered the entire façade with reflective road and animal crossing signs.
Climbing the porch steps, he breathed in the familiar smell of wood and the musty cushions from the hand-hewn rockers his uncle had made. “Come on in.” He held the door open, following behind with her suitcase.
Zach, his most recent hire, had rounded up some dress forms and sewing machines. In the kitchen, a crew unpacked overfilled grocery sacks. Music came from somewhere down the long hallway that led to what were once dormitory-style bedrooms. Several years ago, they’d knocked down walls to create master bedroom suites.
She swept a hand down the back of a dress form. “How could you possibly get supplies like this so quickly?”
“We have connections.”
“Okay, hang on. A team, connections, marketing?” She fingered some bright blue nylon. “You have fabric swatches in the bunkhouse. Gray, what’s going on here?”
“I dabble in some clothing lines.”
“You dabble?”
“Long story. Let me introduce you to everyone.” He started off towards the long dining room table.
“Gray.”
Her serious tone stopped him.
“Is there a business already going on in here?”
“No. We run ours remotely or out of our homes. I’m sure Zach just brought some stuff with him. We’re in the middle of launching a new line.”
“A new line?” Her expression said, What in the world are you talking about?
He didn’t like to talk about it. It was just something he and his friends did together, but he supposed he should fill her in. “Okay, well, a couple years ago, we had an idea for a better snowboard, so we designed it and sold it. Thought we were pretty badass, until we saw the sales report. It was pretty dismal. So, one day, we were sitting around the fire, shooting the shit, talking about marketing and how we could boost sales, and it struck me that what really sells are the things people need to buy new every season. Like socks and gloves and board shorts. Shit like that.”
“You and your friends sat around a campfire talking about marketing?”
“You givin’ me shade?” He smiled, when what he really felt was frustration. This is why I don’t talk about it. People didn’t take him seriously. They had one idea about him and didn’t want to see him any other way. “Let me introduce you to my Creative Director.”
Following, she muttered, “He has a Creative Director.”
“Zach,” he called.
The hipster dude looked up from the screen of his laptop, where he’d been clicking away like a maniac.
“This is Knox Holliday. Knox, this Zach, he’s the Creative Director for Duck Dive Haberdashery.”
“Duck Dive? That’s the name of your business?”
He couldn’t tell if she liked it or not. She sounded more surprised than anything. “Yeah. Like I said, we didn’t take it too seriously at the start.”
“Don’t believe a word he says.” Zach set the laptop on the coffee table and got up off the couch. “He’s a magnate.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Not even close.”
“Zach Martin.” He reached out a hand. “It’s great to meet you, Knox. Wish it were under better circumstances.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She shook his hand but turned to Gray with a confused expression. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Yeah, sure.” He clapped Zach on the shoulder. “Listen, I hate to leave you guys like this, but I have to head to the airport. I’m hoping you’ll have a chance to get to know each other, see if you’d like to work together.”
“Are you kidding?” Zach smiled as he shook Knox’s hand. “Working on something other than board shorts? Hell, yeah.”
His creative director must’ve caught the crease between Knox’s eyes, because he continued. “Before I came here, I worked at Hugo Rossi.”
“Really?” Knox sounded impressed.
“Yeah, so getting back to higher end products is cool.”
“All right. I’m out of here.” Gray hoped like hell she’d like his staff. He wanted this partnership to work. It was more than wanting to make things right for her. The challenge of helping build her platform excited him. “Walk me out?”
“Yeah, sure.” She blinked away the tears glistening in her eyes.
When he hit the porch, he turned back to her. “Amelia’s got a professional preservationist coming in to pack up your dresses. We’ll expedite shipping so you don’t lose any more time.” But that only made her sadder. “You okay?” What else could he do to make it right for her?
She turned glassy eyes toward him. “You’re the kindest man I’ve ever known. I don’t even know what to say.” She looked lost. “Thank you just seems so hollow.”
“I think you forget that I’m the one who caused all your problems.”
“No, I’m not forgetting anything.”
He wanted to hug her, press a kiss in her palm, and tell her everything would be all right. But he knew where that would lead, because his tongue would wander toward her delicate wrist and then trace the ink on the inside of her forearm.
Starting just below the elbow, black thread unraveled from a spool and turned into a fanciful dress on a hanger. It continued its merry path to a stitched heart and ended through the eye of a needle. It was awesome.
But there would be no arm licking. “I’ve got to head to the airport. It’d be great if you could get to know Zach and Amelia. If they’re not a good fit, we can hire other people. It’s all up to you.”
She gestured to the bunkhouse. “This is better than anything I could’ve imagined. Gray, you’ve…set me up nicely.”
In that moment, he knew he’d give up Titans Invitational just to stay with her and get more of that softness, to be part of this journey she’d just started. He wanted…fuck. Look at me, going right back there. “Okay. I’m out.” He trampled down the steps. “You need anything at all, text me.”
The early September air swept over his heated skin. Even from this distance, he could see the kaleidoscope of emotions moving across her beautiful features. She was completely overwhelmed, and yet, in spite of her panic and confusion, she was rallying, moving forward.
It drove him crazy, what they’d done to her. How they’d ruined things. And he just had to help her. Had to.
Nobody felt things deeper than Knox. When she laughed, it was with her whole body, doubling over and clutching her stomach. When she was angry, hellfire flashed in her eyes. When she was hurt, she’d pull into herself like a turtle.
He’d loved all those moods, and no sixty-foot wave or twenty-two-foot halfpipe wall came close to the thrill he got from simply being with her.
His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Sarah, his pilot.
Fueled up and ready to go.
Before hopping into the truck, he glanced back at the bunkhouse and caught a glimpse of Knox through the open door. Her long, surfer-girl hair gleamed as she headed toward the kitchen. The boy in him who’d never gotten to hold her hand wanted to stay, revel in her smiles and laughter and fierce attitude. But the man knew there was nothing between them. Not like that anyway.
H
e typed his response. On my way.
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe how fast Gray got these here.” Knox gently pulled the pale pink tulle over the dress form and smoothed it. He’d expedited the shipping, getting them preserved and delivered to the bunkhouse in one week. She was just so happy to see them outside the wreckage of that house. This one, the Pirouette, didn’t have much damage at all.
Zach used his cutter to open one of the other boxes. “He’s a great guy.” He pulled out a lavender organza so pale it looked like stardust and handed it over to her.
Moving to the next form, she eased the skirt over the top. “Yeah, but he’s got so much going on.” The strong scent of coffee permeated the huge space, and she worried about the dresses. “Maybe we shouldn’t cook here.”
Zach looked up, obviously trying to make sense of her comment.
“The fabrics will absorb the smells.”
“Ah. Gotcha. I’m used to polyester and nylon. I can hit up Calamity Joe’s, though, right? Bring in my own cup?”
“Definitely. It’s just better not to brew any here.”
Slicing open another box, he pulled out a glittery white fairy gown. “I don’t know squat about wedding dresses, but these are pretty damn amazing. I don’t even want to touch them.”
Normally, she wouldn’t let him. An uneven fingernail or a callous could ruin a dress. But these were already destroyed.
Her loss hit her. Full-on body blow. Sacked, she lowered her arms, stopped breathing for the count of one…two…three. God. Yes, she was glad to have her dresses back, but seeing what she’d spent a year sewing with her own hands ruined…hurt.
She just had to focus on moving forward. She had a plan, a business partner, and a team. It’s going to work out. And Zach was awesome. “If you don’t mind my asking, why’d you leave Hugo Rossi?”
“I’m actually from a small mountain town in Colorado, so when Gray first approached me, I was kind of into the idea of leaving the city and coming back to my roots. But what sealed it was that, at my old job, it was the same button downs, khakis, V-necks…over and over.”