I stood for a minute at the base of the wide steps in the center of the open foyer. I’d never thought of myself as chicken shit, but I wasn’t looking forward to facing Abigail Donavan. What I’d told Cooper was true; she frustrated and annoyed the crap out of me. I didn’t have issues working with women. Hell, I loved chicks, and I respected anyone, man or woman, who had knowledge and ability. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Ms. Donavan knew her job. She was smart, savvy, and I’d noticed that she treated my crew with deference. She didn’t look down her aristocratic nose at them, and oddly enough, they all seemed to love her. I just didn’t understand how it was that everyone else got along with Abigail, but I couldn’t.
“Can I help you?” The voice that jarred me from my brooding was low and feminine, with just a hint of the South in it. “Are you lost? Or just deciding?”
The woman stood at the doorway to my left, next to a sign with black lettering that read ATTORNEY AT LAW. Her light brown hair was pulled up into one of those bun deals some girls like, and she wore a dress that skimmed her body without looking trashy. It hit just above her knees, showing off legs that made me take another long glance.
“Not lost. Just trying to figure out if I really want to go up there.”
She smiled, and I noticed her eyes were a pretty light blue. “Do you have an appointment with Logan? He’s a nice guy. Nothing to be scared about.”
I laughed. “Yeah, if I were going up to see Logan, I’d already be there. No, I have to deal with someone else. Someone who works for him. And she is a little scary.”
“Do you mean Abby Donavan? She’s the only other person with an office up there right now. Why don’t you like her? I’ve met her a few times, and she’s lovely.”
“To you, sure.” I sighed. “To everyone else in the world, she’s a spoonful of spun sugar. To me, she’s uber-bitch.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
Wincing, I rubbed my neck. “Sorry. That was harsh. We’re working on the same project, a hotel rehab, and we don’t always see eye-to-eye on all the decisions. I have to go up there right now and try to convince her to agree to something she doesn’t want to do. That’s why I’m dragging my feet.” Sticking out my hand, I put on my best charming grin. “I’m Ryland Kent, by the way.”
“Elizabeth Hudson.” She slid her fingers alongside mine, gave a quick squeeze and stepped back. “This is my office.”
“Oh, you’re the lawyer.”
“Guilty.” She laughed. “Has my reputation preceded me?”
“Nah.” I leaned against the newel post. “Logan just mentioned he’d rented out this office to an attorney. Another attorney, I guess I should say, since I hear the guy who used to have your office skipped town to find himself.”
“That’s what I heard, too. I didn’t know him.” She lifted one slim shoulder. “His loss was my gain, since I’d been looking for a new place. My old office was in the middle of Elson, and I wanted something closer to the Cove.”
“Are you from here?” She didn’t sound like it. Most of the natives to this area had a different accent. Elizabeth’s sounded closer to how Linc spoke.
“Not originally. Mostly I grew up in Tennessee.” She didn’t seem inclined to say more on that topic. “I’ve been in this area for a few years now.”
“Well, that’s convenient. Just so happens I’m brand-new in town and looking for someone to show me around.”
“Ryland?”
My head jerked around, as Elizabeth and I both looked up the steps. Abigail stood at the top of the staircase, one hand on the railing. From this distance, I was struck for the first time that she really was kind of hot. Most of the time, I was too tied up listening to her gripe and argue to pay attention to her face and her body, but now, from this angle, she seemed . . . more vulnerable. Less of the ice queen and more of the pretty princess.
“Hey, uh . . . Ms. Donavan.” I wanted to call her Abby, as I’d heard everyone do, but I couldn’t do it, not even after she’d just used my own name for the first time. She’d sounded so uncertain, surprised to see me and maybe a little taken aback at finding me chatting up the lovely Elizabeth.
“Mr. Kent.” She was recovering, drawing up her body the way I’d seen before, when she was trying to make herself look taller. “I assume you’re here to see me?” Her eyes flickered to Elizabeth and back to me.
“Yep.” I quirked one eyebrow at the attorney and sketched a salute. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Hope to see you around town.”
“Same here.” She glanced up at Abigail. “Hey, Abby. Love those shoes.”
“Thanks.” There was a definite chill in the word, but Elizabeth only smiled again, waved at me and disappeared back into her office.
I climbed the stairs, feeling the weight of Abigail’s eyes on me with each step. When I’d made it all the way up, she moved back and pointed down the hall. “My office is this way.”
I gave her a little bow. “Lead the way.”
She hesitated only a split second before turning and walking away. I noticed that today, she was dressed in a short skirt that flared about mid-thigh as she moved. The material clung to her ass, giving me teasing glimpses of its roundness. It made me want to . . .
No. I frowned, mentally kicking myself. I wasn’t interested in the princess, even if she’d seemed to thaw a little today. Sure, she had a decent body. Yeah, there was some sex appeal there. Being a man, I couldn’t help how I reacted to a female. It didn’t mean I was attracted to her at all. It was just biology.
“I must have missed you today at the site.” Abigail opened a door and stepped inside a small room. I followed her, dropping into a chair while she skirted the desk and sat down in the only other seat.
“Yeah.” I sprawled, leaning back and propping one ankle over the other. “I needed to run some of the plans by Cooper, so I just waited at the house until he came into the workshop for the day.”
Her forehead wrinkled as her brows drew together. “What plans?”
“What we’re going to need as far as custom woodwork. At least, the beginning.”
Abigail rested her elbows on the desk and templed her fingers. “So you went to Cooper with these plans before you spoke to me.”
“These didn’t involve you. They’re just standard stuff.”
“Oh, really? Well, why don’t you show them to me, and I’ll make that call?”
I shrugged. “Sure, whatever.” Leaning forward, I braced my feet on the floor and reached into my back pocket to pull out the folded papers. Abigail sighed and shook her head as she picked them up from the desk.
“I’m surprised you didn’t just stuff them into your shirt.” She smoothed the wrinkles.
“Sorry, fancy leather briefcases aren’t my style.”
“How about just a manila folder? That too high-class for you?” I watched her eyes as she scanned the top paper. Well-manicured fingernails slid beneath it to flip through the rest of the plans. Her jaw tensed, lips pressed together, and it might’ve been my imagination, but I almost thought I saw steam coming out of her ears. When she spoke, fury laced her voice.
“Are you insane or just incompetent?” Abigail pushed the pile away, as though she might be able to make them all disappear. “I didn’t approve any of this, and I know for a fact that Logan didn’t either. You seem to be under the impression that you’re in charge here, Mr. Kent, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.” She snatched at the plans she’d just pushed away, spreading them until she found what she wanted. “’Restoring the barns to their original condition and purpose.’ What the hell? Those barns are going to be the spa, and you know it. We’ve discussed it. I told you to draw permits for plumbing and electric out there. I’m assuming that hasn’t been done.”
I gritted my teeth. “No. I think we should revisit the idea of the spa—”
“I’m sure you do, but it’s not going to happen. Offering those services is an integral part of our business plan.”
“But the hotel didn’t originally have a spa. It had barns.”
She slammed her hand down onto the desk, hard, and I jumped. I’d never seen her this worked up. Normally when we disagreed, Abigail got colder and stiffer. Her words got longer and more convoluted. She’d never been this physical, this . . . heated.
“Of course it didn’t have a spa. It had barns because people used horses when it was built. That was then, and this is now. And now, the Riverside Hotel and Spa will damn well have a spa. Are we clear, Mr. Kent?” She was practically spitting.
“I don’t think it needs to be that cut and dried. Why can’t this be discussed?”
“Because it’s not your call. Logan, Jude and I made the decision long before they brought you on board.” Abigail pushed her chair back, jumped to her feet and paced in the small space behind her desk. “Tell me something, Mr. Kent. Do you always hijack your—your restorations? When you rebuilt the Colton farmhouse in Virginia and they changed it from a home to a winery, did you try to change their minds? When you did that place in Kansas City and they opened a bar in it rather than keeping it a smithy, did you pitch a fit?”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. The truth was, I hadn’t cared about those places. I’d known from the get-go what the owners planned to do, and I’d adjusted my restoration accordingly. I’d brought kitchens up to modern specs, adjusted window sizes and changed door locations without blinking. So why was this job any different?
“The Riverside’s special. She’s been neglected so long, and I just need to do right by her.” I braced, waiting for more venom, but it didn’t come.
Abigail stopped abruptly in mid-pace. She stared at me, blinking rapidly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. For the space of several breaths, she didn’t speak.
“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” Her words were tired, almost exasperated, but not angry anymore. “Don’t you think I see the potential, too? But I’m a businesswoman. I know that in this day and age, it takes more than a faithful restoration and a lovely hotel to keep guests coming in. People say they love charm and history and all that, but when it comes down to it and they have to decide between us and the chain motel out on the main strip in Elson, there has to be another hook. The spa is part of that hook, along with the restaurant and the boating activities. Those are what will pay to keep up the historical accuracy and charm that’re so important to you.”
She was right. I knew it, and I felt like a jerk for going around her to try to get my own way. It’d never happened before, and now I had to grovel. I hated groveling.
“I’m sorry, Abigail. You’re on target, and I shouldn’t have talked to Cooper before I’d discussed it with you.”
She kept her gaze steady on me for a few more minutes, assessing. “Thank you.”
“Is that it? You’re not going to yell at me more, rub it in that I was a dick?”
Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. “There’s nothing to be gained by doing that. You admitted you were wrong, you apologized. Let’s move on.” She chewed the corner of her lip. “I saw you had something on there about using real wood trim in the bathrooms. Is that really cost-effective? Or will we end having to replace it all the time? The composite I’d intended to use is supposed to be mildew-resistant.”
I realized she was extending an olive branch. I’d screwed up, and she had every right to ream me out, maybe even go to Logan about what I’d done. But instead she was offering a compromise. I took a deep breath.
“The composite won’t mildew, probably, but it’s also not going to be as durable. You have people coming in and out of these rooms, and there’s going to be wear and tear. With the composite, you’ll see dents, nicks and chips—a lot of them, and pretty much right away. I suggested the solid wood to minimize that factor. If you’re worried about mildew, why not put on a special sealant? It can be reapplied easily as needed, and you’ll still have the strength of the wood.”
“I’m always worried about mildew. This is Florida, and humidity is a killer.” Abigail tapped her lips, her eyes on the desk. “Okay. I’m willing to concede to real wood trim throughout, provided it’s sealed.”
“Done.” I stood up, too, stretching my back as I felt the tension draining away. “I’ll let Cooper know, and I’ll give him the changes about the barns, too. I mean, the spa.” I retrieved the papers from the top of her desk and folded them up again. “And I’ll call the county today about those permits.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Abigail gripped the back of her office chair, and her shoulder sagged a little. I guessed the stress of this meeting had sapped her energy, just as it had mine. A thread of guilt cinched my chest.
“Look at that.” I made an attempt at a teasing grin. “We just worked something out without either of us completely losing our shit. There might be hope for this project yet.”
She shot me a look of wry disbelief, one eyebrow raised. “First of all, I don’t ‘lose my shit’. I’m a professional, and this is my job. You don’t have to like me, Mr. Kent, but I’ll be damned if you don’t at least respect what I can do.”
I stuck one hand in my pocket and waited for the rest. One thing I’d learned was that if Abigail Donavan started a sentence with ‘first of all’, there had to be at least a second, and often, even a third and fourth.
“Second of all . . .” Yep, there it was. “Working something out between two people who care about what they do should be the rule, not the exception. I’m still not clear on exactly why you feel the need to take the opposite stand on anything I suggest. But as you said, today was a good step. Maybe we can use what we learned to make sure things run more smoothly from here on out.”
I wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but this woman had just twisted my words and put me in my place at the same time as she’d agreed with me. At least partially. I had no idea how to respond, so I just nodded and turned to leave.
“Thanks for coming by, Mr. Kent.”
I paused at the doorway, glancing back over my shoulder. “You know, the gig’s up on that, right?”
She frowned. “On what?”
“I know you know my name. You called me Ryland out there on the steps.”
Her pale cheeks took on just the hint of a pink glow, but she didn’t answer me.
“I’m just saying. It wouldn’t make you less in charge or make anyone think less of you if you called me Ry every now and then.” I dropped my voice, giving it just the slightest edge of intimacy. “Maybe even if it’s just when we’re alone.”
She swallowed, and her lips pressed together again. I was making her uncomfortable, but even then, she wasn’t willing to let me have the last word.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” One side of her mouth curved just a little, and I spied a dimple I’d never noticed before. “Mr. Kent.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed and shook my head. Yeah, she was still the ice queen.
But I was whistling as I strode down the steps and out to my truck.
FOUR WEEKS INTO THE RIVERSIDE remodel, my days had taken on a fairly steady routine. I woke up each morning in my small apartment, showered and dressed before heading downstairs for coffee, brewed either by Jude or by her son, Joseph. If Jude was behind the bar, I was more likely to linger. I didn’t know Joseph as well¸ of course, though I knew a little bit of his story from Emmy. She’d told me how he’d left college when his father was very ill, so that Jude didn’t have to handle everything on her own. When he’d gone back, a little over a year later, it was to discover that Lindsay, the girl he’d been casually dating, had given birth to their child during Joseph’s absence.
Joseph might’ve been surprised, but he stepped up. He and Lindsay had gotten married, moved to Crystal Cove and begun helping Jude run the Tide. They’d moved into her old house shortly before the birth of their daughter Brenna last year. Joseph was close to graduating—he was only going to college part-time, so that he could work—and I knew Jude was proud of her son’s dedication and
responsibility. He was always kind and courteous to me, greeting me with a smile and sometimes a story about his son DJ’s latest antics.
My first stop of the day, after coffee, was always at the job site. I was excited every morning to see what progress had been made the day before; sometimes it was very little visible to my eye, but on other days, walls had been taken down or repaired, new sections of the hotel opened for me to examine or windows replaced. I tried to check in with Ryland every day, to make sure we both stayed on the same page. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, not really; after he’d tried to go around me on the spa, we’d both been treating each other with a little more caution and deference. I just felt it was prudent to keep an eye on all the details so that there weren’t any more snafus.
I was dragging my feet this morning, though. I hadn’t slept well, and once I had dropped off, I’d been so deeply asleep that the alarm didn’t wake me up. Since I wasn’t meeting with any vendors or other professionals today, I gave myself permission to wear jeans and a sleeveless blouse instead of a skirt or dress, and I pulled my hair into a high pony tail.
The day immediately got a little better when I saw Jude behind the bar. She was standing with her back to me, staring out at the beach as the sun rose high in the sky. She turned around as I closed the door to my staircase behind me.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Jude smiled and unhooked a mug from the top of the rack. As I came closer, she narrowed her eyes, peered at me and shook her head. “I think it’s a good thing for you that I made the coffee extra-high test this morning. You look like you could use it.”
“Thanks.” I eased onto a bar stool and watched her pour the coffee and slide it toward me, along with the sugar and cream. One of my few indulgences when it came to food was sweet, creamy coffee. I’d never mastered the knack of drinking it black, like my father, or even just with cream, like my mom. Holding up the cup, I inhaled deep and closed my eyes. “Mmmmm. What is it about coffee that instantly makes my morning so much better?”
The Path Page 5