“I can fix that. I also noticed some things that needed fixing downstairs, chips in the stucco, a broken tile in the kitchen floor, and we should probably repoint the fireplaces, too.”
“We?” she teased, although she kind of wanted to make the time and be part of fixing up the house. She hadn’t been down here for so long, she missed it. She felt happier just being here. “You’re making a big list for yourself. I don’t think your relatives meant for you to do all this extra work, but I’m happy to pay you to do it.”
“The list they gave me was short and easy. Having my hands on this would be a joy.”
Beau remarked on every room, every view, every minute detail. The master bedroom boasted a stone fireplace that looked as though it had fallen into place like rocks after a landslide. Two uneven hand-carved mantels made it seem even more off-balance. The walls were angled in on both sides, like an A-frame with a flat ceiling in between. Two big picture windows offered magnificent views of the property.
Beau inspected the fancy chandelier. “Is this where you got the idea to use a chandelier in your bedroom?”
“Yes. I love the way everything is so fairy tale-ish here. When I was young, I would sketch out plans for suites at the inn, creating a fairy-tale theme. I must have drawn dozens of ideas, and my grandfather would make a really big deal out of each one.”
“Do you still have them?”
“No. I gave them all to him. It was kind of our thing. It started when I was little, with my crayon drawings. As I got older, they became more detailed. I even sent a few from college, because I knew how much they would brighten his day.”
“That’s sweet. I’m sure they did. Have you thought about redoing the inn now that you’re here?”
“Oh, right. Like hand over a chunk of my inheritance and then have to manage the process and lose all my writing time? No way. Unfortunately, this is not a fairy tale where I can click the heels of my ruby slippers and poof it would be done and someone else could run it while I write.”
They went back downstairs, and she took him through the rest of the first floor before locking up and heading back to the inn. Pine needles and leaves crunched beneath their feet, and the scent of forest and Beau hung in the air. It was nice, spending time with him, sharing her memories, and walking the path she’d enjoyed so many times with her grandfather.
“When I first came back to the inn, I thought if I ever decided to stay for good, I’d fix up the cabin, maybe get another horse, and go riding like I used to. And then I got sucked into writing erotic romance, and I wanted to use the study in the inn as an office because it has those great windows and a view of the lake. But I couldn’t do it. All those dark walls and furniture stifled my creativity. The view didn’t even matter.”
The trail narrowed, and Beau put his hand on her back, allowing her to walk ahead of him. “Is that why you write in your office? Because it’s brighter?”
“I know what you’re thinking. How can a girl who doesn’t even use lights half the time care about dark furniture, right?”
“It might have crossed my mind,” he said as the trail widened again, and he fell into step beside her. “But I’m more curious about the rest of it. You’ve been here for several years and you’re still living in the inn, and you have no horse. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I got lost in my writing and never looked back. When I’m writing, I don’t think of all this.” She waved her hand. “I can honestly say that I’ve never felt like I was missing out on a thing. But today, being with you, and going into the barn and the cabin, has reminded me of all the things I’d dreamed of.”
“Then maybe it’s a good thing I came into your life, because a woman like you should not spend all her time indoors, and a house like that should not go to waste. We’ll get it fixed up so you can stay in it.”
“Beau, the way you’re adding things to your list, you’ll be stuck here forever. Not that I’m complaining.” She worried that sounded too big for where they were together and said, “You’re great for my writing.”
“For your writing?” He wrapped his arms around her and nipped at her neck.
“Among other things,” she said sassily.
His eyes smoldered. “About those other things…”
His lips touched hers, soft as a whisper. She wound her arms around his neck, trying to capture his mouth, but he continued the torturous teasing, brushing his lips over hers and then pulling back.
“Beau,” she pleaded as his lips swept over hers again.
“I could tease you all day long just to hear you say my name like that.”
She had the urge to say his name like that over and over just to see how he’d react, but they’d been out for most of the morning, and she would never get her word count in if she didn’t get started.
“No, you can’t,” she said as firmly as she could muster. “I have to get back to the inn and write, or I’ll be writing all night, so if you want to kiss me, you better do it qui—”
His mouth came greedily down over hers, kissing her so deeply she felt it sweeping through her, lifting her up. She clung to him as their lips parted, her senses reeling.
“Maybe you can use that for inspiration.” He took her hand and led her out of the woods.
“Inspiration,” she said absently. She tipped her chin up toward the sun, basking in their beautiful morning.
Beau took her other hand in his and said, “I want to know more about your dreams, and what others you’ve let drift away.”
She looked at him for a long moment, trying to piece together the changes she saw in him since this morning. He was warmer, more talkative. Invested. Her mind took that thought and wove it into more. But it was just another fairy tale. Their relationship had an expiration date, so she said, “You know how sometimes you dream about things and they just don’t fit into your life?”
“It’s been so long since I dreamed, I’m not sure I even remember how.”
“That’s sad. I’ll tell you what, since you’re doing so much to help me fix up this place, I’m going to reteach you how to dream. Tonight,” she said excitedly. They had three and a half weeks left, and she planned to enjoy every single minute of them. But in order to do that, she needed to get writing! “Eight o’clock. Meet me under the stars.”
He waved toward the grounds. “Where exactly? That could be anywhere.”
“Come out back. You’ll know where to go,” she said playfully. “Now I really have to get inside and write.”
He hauled her into his arms, wickedness dancing in his gorgeous eyes. “You dressed in that sexy little outfit, and now you’re trying to run away from me? You should have worn that oversized men’s shirt I saw you in the other day.”
“I only wear those when I write. They’re my father’s old shirts. Whenever I wasn’t sure I could do something or I was struggling, he’d say”—she lowered her voice—“‘Dig deep, sweetheart. You’re a Sterling, and Sterlings never take things at surface value. Even ourselves.’ His shirts remind me to put my best words forward.”
“Aw, babe, I love knowing that about you, and that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. But exactly what mood were you shooting for with this outfit?” He grabbed her ass. “Because it definitely put me in a certain mood.”
Her insides heated up, and the feel of his hard body lit sparks beneath her skin. But the meeting with her editor was fast approaching. She forced herself to wiggle out of his arms and walked backward toward the inn. “Eight o’clock,” she said with an unstoppable grin. “Be there.”
“I’ll bring dinner!” he called after her.
“I’ll be dessert.” She turned and headed up the hill, humming and floating on cloud nine—until she realized what she’d said.
She spun around, and Beau was grinning like a sexy fool, which threw her off a little since there was nothing foolish about the man.
He threw his arms up and said, “You expect me to concentrate on work with that on my mind?”
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“Maybe you can use it for inspiration!”
BEAU UNLOADED THE supplies they’d bought in town and installed the exterior security doors on Charlotte’s bedroom, and as promised, he painted the decorative scrolls pink. He finished touching up the bedroom and bathroom on the second floor, and then he made sandwiches and brought one in to Charlotte, but she waved an empty protein bar wrapper, claiming she’d already eaten. The thank-you kisses made his efforts more than worthwhile. He spent the afternoon fixing loose slates on the patios and repairing balcony railings. When the sun finally dipped from the sky, he headed out to the terrace to get started on the medallion design for Charlotte’s room before getting ready for their date. Date? The word felt funny rolling around in his mind, but thoughts of Charlotte made it feel ten types of good.
Beau called his cousin Josh on his way outside and caught him up to speed on the repairs.
“That’s great, Beau. I really appreciate you taking care of all of that for us,” Josh said. “I hear you and Char are getting along well.”
“You heard? Oh right, we ran into Hal last night. I guess he mentioned it?”
“He didn’t, actually, but you know Weston gossip travels fast.” Josh and his wife were fashion designers, and since having their little girl, Abigail, a little more than a year ago, they split their time between living in New York and Colorado. “All it takes is one set of eyes to light the gossip trail on fire.”
Shit. Had he heard about the run-in with the cop? “It wasn’t what it…” He gazed out at the lake, imagining Josh’s amused dark eyes as Beau tried to come up with a cover story. “Okay, yeah. It was exactly what it looked like. But isn’t that some kind of breach of ethics or something for the cop?”
“Cop?” Josh said with interest. “I want to hear that story. Max and Treat were on their way home and saw you guys making out in a restaurant parking lot.”
“Damn it. I must have lost my mind to expose her like that.”
“The whole town probably knows by now. You know how the girls talk, and they adore Charlotte. They’re pulling for the two of you. In fact, they’re probably placing bets or planning your wedding.”
“Man, this sucks.” The last thing he wanted was for Charlotte to become the talk of the town. “Listen, I need a favor.”
“I don’t possess the power to erase memories, dude. Sorry.”
“That’s too bad, because it’d be a shame to embarrass Charlotte.”
“Embarrass her? The woman was making penis pancakes for a scene in her book when we arrived for our wedding. I doubt anything can make her blush.”
Beau shook his head, chuckling and taking pleasure in knowing exactly how to make her blush. He and Josh talked for a few more minutes, and after their call, Beau sat at the table and began designing Charlotte’s medallion. A few minutes later, a hollow thud interrupted his thoughts. He glanced around him as another thud sounded. He got up to check out the source of the sound and peered over the railing. Something flew off a balcony and landed on the grass with another thud.
What the hell?
Sheets sailed through the air, floating silently to the grass below. Beau stared at the mess of linens and bundles tied together with rope and ribbons spread across the lawn. More linens flew from the balcony, and then Charlotte’s head and upper body appeared. Her hair curtained her face as she looked down at the mess. She disappeared again, and Beau felt himself smiling, wondering what she was up to.
He leaned his hip against the railing, thinking about her. If there was one thing he’d figured out, it was that unless she was dragged out of her office, she left it only to collect eggs or work out scenes. He waited for a blow-up doll to come soaring off the balcony.
As he stood pondering the complex woman who was awakening parts of him he wasn’t sure were safe to unearth, she appeared on the lawn. She was bent over in her pretty little sundress, tugging a cardboard box in the direction of the woods. She huffed out a breath, flipped her hair over one shoulder, and began plucking the sheets from the grass and tossing them onto the box. She lifted a tied bundle and put it on top of the linens. Leaving the other linens behind, she grabbed the edge of the box with both hands and tugged it backward across the grass. She stopped every few seconds to wipe her brow or set her hands on her hips and survey the land behind her. Then she gave the box a hard yank and flopped onto her butt.
Beau opened his mouth to ask if she needed help, but she lay back, eyes closed, arms spread out to her sides. A peaceful expression appeared on her beautiful face. He was dying to know what was going on in that creative mind of hers. She looked too happy to interrupt. A few minutes later she pushed to her feet and began the tug-wipe-hands-on-hips process again. This was far too entertaining to miss, and Beau settled in for the show.
A few box-tugging minutes later, he heard a distant ringing. Charlotte shoved the bundle to the ground, threw the linens over her shoulders like she was digging for gold, and tore open the box. She withdrew her phone and popped up to her feet, heading in the direction of the lake. She spun in a circle, walked a few feet, then veered off in another direction. Her melodic laughter was music to his ears, and Beau went back to drawing.
Later, as he showered and prepared dinner, visions of Charlotte were still dancing in his head.
Chapter Eleven
AFTER FINDING CHARLOTTE’S suite empty, Beau headed out back with dinner, which he carried in the basket Charlotte used to collect eggs. The gray-blue sky lit his way as he crossed the yard toward glittering lights in the distance. As he neared the lake, serenaded by chirps and animals skittering through leaves, scents of damp earth and pine rose to greet him. It was so peaceful, all sky and mountains, without the noise of the city that never seemed to quiet back home. Even though Pleasant Hill was a fairly small town, it was still a town, full of busy, close-knit people who thought everyone’s pain should be felt by all. The serenity and solitude of being on the mountain called to Beau on a visceral level. His gut knotted with the reality that in a few weeks he was set to move to Los Angeles and take on hosting a reality show that would allow him to travel all over the map. The perfect job for a guy who never wanted to put down roots. But it didn’t come without issues. The show would bring him into the limelight. Beau was a private man, and that attention wasn’t appealing in the least. But it was the tradeoff for being far away from Pleasant Hill and all the sad eyes that knew he was to blame for Tory’s death.
As he neared the woods, he came across several garden stakes protruding from the ground. Sparkling fairies, butterflies, and flowers dangled from the stakes, leading him into the woods. He neared the lights he’d seen from the inn, and a web of linens came into focus. Sheets were knotted at the corners, strung up by ropes and suspended in the air. The ropes were tied to branches and tree trunks at odd angles and varying heights, creating peaks and valleys. It wasn’t a tent, or even a canopy. The design was haphazard, with strings of tiny white lights hanging unevenly around it, like raindrops that had lit up wherever they’d fallen. It reminded him of Charlotte’s attempt at decorating her bedroom, and he was blown away knowing she’d gone to all of this trouble for him. A worn, frayed blanket was spread on the ground and covered with several nearly flat, colorful pillows. Bundles of wildflowers tied with pretty ribbons were placed all around the blanket. The cardboard box he’d seen her lugging across the grass sat empty a few feet away.
Charlotte appeared from behind a tree, holding a bundle of flowers and looking angelic in a gauzy white dress that brushed the tops of her bare feet. White rope crisscrossed over her ribs like some sort of sexy toga. Thin strips of leather snaked along her wrist and forearm. She came closer and twirled. Her dress floated around her legs, and Beau realized the rope around her middle was an extension of the spaghetti straps resting on her sleek shoulders, holding the dress up with a simple bow in the back. One tug was all it would take…
“You found it!” she said excitedly.
He still wasn’t quite sure what it wa
s, but that didn’t matter. He’d found Charlotte, and the stars in her eyes lit him up in a way nothing, and no one, ever had. Charlotte was what made being here so enticing. He had a feeling they could be in the middle of a city and she’d still be all he saw.
“I sure did.” He set the basket on the blanket and reached for her hand, pulling her in for a smooch. She tasted like mint and sunshine. “You look absolutely gorgeous. How is it possible that I missed you after we spent all morning together?”
“Because we’re good for each other,” she said sweetly.
“But I take you away from writing. That’s got to annoy you.”
She shook her head, drawing circles on his chest with her finger. “I like that you do, and you inspire so much creativity in me, I think you’re good for my writing—and for my heart. See my smile?”
“Yes, I do.” He kissed her again, wanting to soak her up like a sponge.
“Don’t get too big of a head about it,” she teased. She handed him the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”
“They’re beautiful, and it’s been a really long time since I went out on a date, but isn’t the guy supposed to bring the flowers?” He reached into the basket and withdrew the wildflowers he’d picked for her.
Happiness radiated off her. “Thank you!” She smelled them and said, “I haven’t gotten flowers since my dad was alive. He sent them to me every year on my birthday. These are beautiful.”
“As are these,” he said, holding up the ones she’d given him.
“Those flowers aren’t technically for our date. They’re for your crash course in dreaming.”
“My crash course, huh?” Like a bear drawn to honey, he kissed her again. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to help me. What is this fantastic…layout?”
She waved at the linens like she was presenting a grand prize. “This is how we’re going to open your mind to dreaming again. Welcome to your dreamscape! It looked much better when my family made it, but it’ll still work. I’ll show you.”
Anything For Love Page 13