Smitten

by Colleen Coble

  She hoped that whatever Zak told her would provide some kind of prophecy for her future and the spa, but she was quickly running out of hope. Usually time in prayer or time exercising with her friends restored her faith and motivation, but this time it felt as though God had her in a holding pattern and she had no idea why. She had run the numbers and costs for the business and wondered if maybe she should give the grill a second look.

  With a twofold purpose, Julia resolved to schlep on over to the grill and talk to Zak. She parked her car in the gravel parking lot and sniffed in the deep, fresh air. At that moment she didn’t miss a single thing about New York. The grill really did have the ideal location, just outside of town and on the pond. She felt her tense stomach relax just by being in the beautiful surroundings.

  She’d dressed more practically this visit, in jeans and closed-toe wedges so that the sawdust wouldn’t get into her shoes. She fastened her one-button blazer and started up the steps.

  The sound of a hammer, the whirl of a drill all caught her attention when she approached the double red doors, propped slightly open by an antique metal iron. She tried to knock for attention before pushing the door open, but the sound of tools at work continued. She knocked louder.

  “Hello! Zak?”

  The pounding continued, and she coughed at the dust.

  “Zak?” she called again and peered inside. She shielded her eyes as she stepped from the bright sunlight into the darkened room. The sound of the hammer and drill got louder, and the smell of freshly cut wood filled her nostrils. Sawdust littered the pine plank floors, but its fresh salmon-pink color told her it was new and the result of labor.

  Natalie’s boyfriend, Carson, was crouched over a hammer. He caught sight of her shoes and looked up. Carson was a broad-shouldered man whose body said he was well acquainted with physical labor. He owned the local fishing cabins on the lake as well as the local hardware store. By Smitten standards, that made him the town mogul.

  “Julia,” Carson said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same thing. I thought the fishing cabins would be full about now.”

  “They are, except for the ones currently under renovation.

  I’m helping Zak make some changes around this place. We can’t let you girls have all the fun now, can we? Some days I don’t even feel like it’s necessary to be at the hardware store. I know all the customers and they pay their tabs at the end of the month. I should just leave the door unlocked, except now we’ve got all these strangers running about town.”

  Julia laughed. “Is Zak here?”

  “He’s around somewhere. He’s got a new guy coming in after the Fourth of July holiday, but for now it’s just the two of us. I’d tell you to grab a saw if you weren’t dressed for a city luncheon.” Carson chuckled.

  “What kind of changes is he planning?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. He’s on the deck, I think.” Carson pointed his hammer toward the back of the room.

  Julia maneuvered through the obstacle course of two-by-fours until she reached the back door. Zak wore protective eye goggles and was drilling something into the exterior wall. She opened the door and yelled, but he’d seen her and stopped the machine.

  “Julia. You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.

  What brings you down to the Smitten slums?”

  “I wanted to finish our conversation from the other day.”

  “Does that mean—”

  “What are you doing to the grill?”

  He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Making some renovations. I want to be ready for ski season and, you know, Sawyer’s wedding. I’m getting rid of the stumps. Bought real chairs. I imagine the wedding will bring a lot more women to town, and I just think it’s time to give this place more of a woman’s touch.”

  She nodded. “Shouldn’t you have a woman here, then?”

  “Is that an offer? You do have that gift of making things prettier. Spreading your pixie dust, I guess you’d say.”

  “I don’t know anything about the restaurant business.”

  “I didn’t know anything about the spa business until I looked up the setup of your spa in New York.”

  “You mean Devlin’s spa.”

  He cleared his throat. “You want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “I would.” He grinned.

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You have no shame.”

  “I don’t, but I do have a deep thirst. It’s hot out here. I’m putting up an awning so I can serve out here in the summers.”

  “I’ll be back,” she said, trying to take Natalie’s advice and show a little bit of humility. Maybe that’s what her faith was missing. She walked through the large room and entered the kitchen. The commercial stainless steel refrigerator stood against the back wall, and to her surprise the fridge and the kitchen itself were spotless. She found a glass on a shelf, opened the ice machine, and dug the glass through until it was filled. She thought of Carson at that moment and did the same for him. Then she filled both glasses with water. Her eye caught a lemon on the countertop, and she sliced through it and put a citrus twist in both cups. “I am Betty Crocker,” she said to herself. She carried the glasses through the restaurant and handed one to Carson.

  “Thanks.” He smiled, drank the water in one gulp, and handed the cup back to her. She set it on a table and went back outside to the deck.

  Zak gazed briefly at her, then fired up his drill and finished with his screw.

  “Your water.” She held it out to him with a small curtsy.

  He set down the drill and took the glass from her.

  “Sit down,” he said as he took the chair to her left.

  “What are you building?”

  “A covering for the deck.”

  “I meant inside. I thought you were just getting new decor.”

  “I’m dividing the building so I can rent out part of it. I’d like to offer up a more inviting atmosphere, you know, for the women.”

  “You’re avoiding my question. What are you building?”

  “A new start. Until I can think of a reason to open the mill again. Get these men back to work.”

  “Ah, you’re evading my question.”

  “Did you get hold of Devlin?” Zak fired the drill up when it was time for her to answer. Then he peered up at her from under his tousled brown hair with his deep-set, magnetic eyes.

  “No, I didn’t, but something tells me you knew that.”

  Zak smirked. “Maybe. I’ll just say it doesn’t surprise me.”

  Zak chugged some of his water. “Devlin doesn’t own that spa.

  That’s what I found out on Google.”

  She laughed. “Of course he does. It’s one of the best spas in New York. You can pay more and not get the glowing skin that Devlin’s procedure gives you. Those women can’t afford to have pocked skin for a day because of a facial.”

  Zak’s mouth made an O shape and he put his fingers to his chin. “I know! But then, who can afford that?”

  She tried not to giggle. Zak Grant was nothing if not charming, but then, what guy wouldn’t be when he always got his way? Zak answered to no one that she could see, and his charm came at a cost as far as she was concerned. A cost that she couldn’t afford. Falling for Zak’s charm would mean abandoning her dreams and morphing into the “little woman”—not that he’d ever give her the opportunity.

  “What do you mean he doesn’t own that spa?”

  “Mrs. Shapiro owns it.” He stuck a screw between his lips and marked a spot for his next drill hole. “Devlin’s a front man because it’s apparently beneath her to own a spa. It’s not his.”

  “Zak, I worked for him. He signed my checks.”

  “He never had money to invest in Smitten. It would have been Mrs. Shapiro’s money, and quite frankly, I don’t think she would have considered the idea. Devlin came out here for you.”

  “Devlin�
�s not interested in me,” Julia said. “He’s not interested in any one woman. Which seems to be the kind of men I attract.” She stared pointedly at him.

  He ignored her slight. “Maybe he thought you’d be more relaxed in your natural setting. Let your guard down.”

  “I live with my parents. Where exactly would I let my guard down?”

  “You don’t think like a guy, Julia. Give me that much at least.”

  She opened her mouth, but she had nothing to say. Zak was right.

  He answered more of her questions about the renovation.

  “I’m putting a wall up inside, covering the deck here so you can move massage tables out here in the summers. There will also be a wall separating the deck. Take my help, Julia.”

  “This is . . . this is for me? Zak, I told you, this isn’t—”

  Carson came outside. “Two massage tables were just delivered,” he said to Zak. “You getting intimate with your ribs for barbecue, or can I assume those are for Julia?”

  “Why?” She narrowed her gaze. “Why would you do this?”

  Zak saw Julia’s walls come down, if only slightly. His act of faith had worked, if only for that instant.

  “Natalie told Carson you were considering going back to New York. I promised your brother you’d stay in Smitten.

  Your parents don’t need to worry about both of you.”

  That wasn’t exactly the whole truth. The truth was, he wanted to do what he could to keep her near to him. To prove that he wasn’t the commitment-phobe she feared, nor the caveman her father pretended to be. He was, in fact, in love with her. He probably always had been, but that truth proved far too inconvenient with his history and his promise to Greg.

  “Greg can’t expect you to keep me in Smitten. That’s too much to ask of your friendship. You can’t control another person.”

  “True. But I can do whatever I can to make it easy for you to stay. You say this is your dream. Carson, Natalie, and I—we want to do what we can to make it come true for you.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  Zak slapped his knee and stood. “Greg wired me money to pay for this.”

  She shook her head. “No, Zak. I can’t take my brother’s money. He’s fighting a war. He’ll have to come back, and he’ll have his own war to find work here in Smitten.”

  He pulled a check out of his shirt pocket. “I didn’t take it, Julia. I knew you’d never accept his money. I would never accept his money.”

  “Independence Day may be tomorrow, but it seems like it will never come for me. Why does everyone think I need to be taken care of?”

  “We take care of our own in Smitten. Why do you see it as control when we do it for love?”

  “I—I just do. I thought you’d closed down the grill for good. Until the mill reopened at least.”

  “Plans change. Look, I realize this place isn’t good enough for you or your spa, but you can make it work until you’re rolling in the dough.” He exhaled roughly. “I don’t know what else I can do to prove to you that I want you here. I want your spa in my restaurant. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  She didn’t move. Her slender frame faced the pond, and she gazed out onto the glassy water and slowly sat in one of the chairs. “Carson, you knew about this?”

  Carson shrugged. “Natalie told me to get over here and help. I just do as I’m told.” He laughed.

  “Hey!” Zak pointed the drill at her like a firearm. “I never said I was out of business.” He pulled the drill back as if he were cocking a gun. “I said I was working on a plan to reopen the mill. I needed to focus. You make me sound like some kind of failure. Can’t you just say thank you?”

  “The town has failed, hasn’t it? Isn’t that why we’re trying something new?”

  “You girls are pinning all your hopes on Sawyer’s wedding and the air of romance . . . You know what your problem is, Julia?”

  “Yes, you scaring off my investor and my spa smelling like barbecue—that seems to be my trouble. What makes you think you know the first thing about what I want in a spa? That you would just feel free to start building without any commitment on my part? What if I leave and go back to New York?”

  “Your trouble is that you got it in your head that the men of this town are your enemies, instead of asking for help when you might need it. You need my help and you’re too proud to admit it. Who has enough space for this spa? Who has a pond? Who has the building skill and, I might add, the Internet skill to steal the plans from your New York City spa and build it here? I didn’t see Devlin offering anything more than his snooty opinion, which, I might remind you, also led you right back here.”

  He instantly regretted his words. She had recoiled at his tough stance and his blowing his own horn, as if he alone could keep her in Smitten. Devlin could easily offer Julia more if given the opportunity. That’s why Zak had started the plans. Though his heart was in the right place, Julia saw his actions as manipulative and controlling; the very thing she feared the most, he had made real.

  Say it, he told himself. Tell her how you feel before she bolts again!

  “Who’s deciding when I need help—you? I would have figured it out, Zak!”

  He put the drill down and came toward her chair. She stood up and straightened her shoulders. She still only came up to his chest.

  “You’ve been in New York too long if you trust those wimpy, feminine men over the real men of Smitten. Carson and people like him built this town. Your father built this town. Carson and I, we get what you girls want to do, but you’re forgetting something.”

  “Are we?” She pressed her fist to her hip.

  “You’re forgetting us men. You’re taking away our sense of pride, and you’re trying to win some invisible contest.

  We’re not your competition. We want you to succeed, but forgive us for wanting to look after our women and help where we can. As the men of Smitten, we see it as our duty, even if we do think the idea is harebrained.”

  “Harebrained!” She latched onto the only words she could fight, apparently.

  “Do you want us to let the women take care of us? It’s not in our DNA.” He set the drill back down and drained the rest of his water glass.

  She unclenched her jaw. “What if I told you that it wasn’t in mine to sit back and be told what to do?”

  “I’d tell you that sometimes it’s in everyone’s best interest to sit back and be told what to do.” He took her by the hand.

  “Come in and see the plans.”

  He tightened his grip around her tiny wrist and led her into the restaurant/spa. “What?” he asked. He drank in her hard stare until her expression softened and the skin around her eyes crinkled into a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “Was that so hard?”

  She coughed. “I feel sick to my stomach, actually.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek chastely.

  As her brother might do. “I’m proud of you anyway. We’re going to do this together, Julia. We’ll have each other’s backs.”

  “If this is really going to be a spa, then I need to get busy.

  I need to get plans and—”

  “All taken care of.”

  “What would you know about building a spa, Zak?”

  “Everything I need to.” He picked up blueprints and rolled them out on a table.

  Julia recognized the floor plan. “This is Devlin’s spa.

  How did you get these?”

  “Correction. It’s not Devlin’s spa. I told you, it’s owned by someone named Shapiro. Devlin’s nothing more than a well-dressed con man. Well, and a manager, I suppose. The fact is he lied about it. Why?”

  “Mrs. Shapiro is one of his clients, not the owner. She lent him her plane to come here.” She seemed to question herself, while she answered him firmly.

  Zak rolled his eyes. “Do you ever listen, Julia?”

  “Zak, he trained me on the business aspects of the spa.
<
br />   Not to mention he’s one of the best estheticians in the world, but he doesn’t do that any longer. Only for Mrs. Shapiro.”

  “That may well be, but he doesn’t own that spa in Manhattan. All I’m saying.”

  “That’s what you knew? Why would he care if I knew that?”

  “It wasn’t his money to invest, Julia. What was his reasoning? Did it ever occur to you that he might want something more out of you than—”

  “He’s old enough to be my father!”

  “We all know that never happens, an older man and a younger woman. Unthinkable! Especially in Manhattan.”

  She stared at the floor. “Are you . . . are you jealous?” she asked.

  Yes! Yes, I’m jealous. Yes, I want to kill him for messing with my sweet Julia.

  Zak pulled her in toward him until he felt her warm breath on his cheek. He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans and placed them on each side of her cheeks. Her lips were so close that he could taste them, but he heard Greg’s name whispered in his ear and pulled away. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Do you want me here, Zak? In your building, I mean?”

  He rolled up the blueprints and strode away from her rather than stare into those wide, beautiful eyes. “I want what’s best for Smitten.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Independence Day brought the entire town of Smitten together for Main Street’s parade and, later that night, the fireworks over the lake. The flowers in the window boxes along Main Street were all in bloom, and red, white, and blue ribbons draped from each of them festively. The town square’s green clock had been wrapped with patriotic ribbons, and underneath it, Smitten’s own Garner Sisters played their stringed instruments to their hearts’ delight. No amount of lipstick or rouge circles had been spared, and they absolutely glittered in the morning sunlight.