Stopping in front of the tent-cabin, he shut off the engine and pulled the brake with a creak. Moving himself in wouldn’t take much time, which was good because he had to review his notes for his presentation to the Institute. His first presentation, of course. They had to be informed of every step along the way, from planning through construction and implementation.
Jake stood and stared out at the pristine lake stretching out beyond the cabin. The trails he would create would be far more elaborate in scope than anything he’d designed at the other resorts Chapman investors had their hands in. Even the ones at the Aspen property paled by comparison. That particular course, completed last winter, was featured in several outdoor sports magazines, which brought more visitors and more money. These trails at Cypress would engage residents and visitors along with corporate partners eager to schedule retreats for their tired and overworked executives. All while keeping the spirit of the wilderness and Old Florida alive and well.
He entered the cabin and flicked on the light. The place was sparsely furnished but he didn’t mind. It was clean and neat and just what he needed for the time-being. There were a few homey touches, left behind by Harmony. A soft quilt she’d told him her mother made covered the mattress of the iron bed, and there was a thick rag rug spread over the plank floor. He hadn’t been messing with Rick when he’d told him he’d slept on the side of a mountain with virtually no shelter. This would be far better. Besides, he wouldn’t be here that long.
The period leading up to the construction would probably be the longest, leaving the installation of the prefabricated climbing walls and other apparatus until shortly before the test runs. He figured maybe just over three months to get to that point. He thought about spending the holidays at Cypress with Rick and his family last year and knew he wanted that again. So win-win, in his opinion.
He stashed his clothes in the small dresser beside the bed, placed his few toiletries on the shelf nearest the back door and crossed to the kitchenette. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d just about make coffee out there on his own. The two-burner stovetop and small microwave would suit him, as would the frat-boy fridge. He cracked it open, smiling when he saw the bottles of beer inside.
“Thanks, big brother,” he said, grabbing a cold one.
He twisted off the top and stepped out onto the wooden porch facing the lake. Taking a long draw, he thought about his upcoming presentation. He had to be cool. Concise. He had to get his points across with enthusiasm and expertise. The folks at the Institute weren’t messing around, and he couldn’t either.
He sat down in one of the two Adirondack chairs and leaned back, letting out a breath. The sun was low behind him now, the pinks and oranges winking off the placid ripples on the surface of the lake. The Cypress trees dripped Spanish moss toward the water and the insects hummed in the dying warmth. This place was beautiful and Jake totally got the whole tree-hugging thing even if it had taken his brother falling in love with Harmony to see it.
Their father never would, of course. Conservation and appreciation for nature was just a way to build the portfolio. No matter. Jake was pleased to his bones that he could create a project here that would celebrate this beauty and also kick ass. He took another drink of his beer and closed his eyes.
He just hoped he could pull this off.
***
Claire rinsed her dish and set it in the dishwasher, then wiped down her counters. Today had been nothing out of the ordinary, which she usually relished. Routine and the expected was her home base. But today she’d felt like something was missing. Yesterday she’d caught a glimpse of Jake at the Sales Center, but he’d been wrapped up in Tammy. About the adventure excursion courses, she knew. Just how long would it be before they were both wrapped up in each other, though? What was it to her, really? She’d had one date with Jake. That was all.
Then today she’d thought it was Jake’s voice she’d heard in the reception area but she’d stubbornly kept herself in her office. She wouldn’t go running out there like some teenage fan girl or something.
Speaking of Tammy, she’d told Claire that Jake was getting ready for his presentation to the Institute on Friday. The sales staff wouldn’t be in attendance, not that Claire would be invited to sit in either. Her involvement would come later. When the project passed this hurtle and came back around to logistics and costs. Sheesh, that even sounded boring to her tonight.
“I’m not going to stick around here,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “Pining after hot Jake Chapman like I have nothing else to occupy myself.”
She didn’t have much, but she had something. She’d go into St. Cloud tonight and shoot a few games of pool. True, she never went there midweek. When she went, it was usually on a Friday night. Still, it would get her out of the house and maybe she’d make a few dollars in the process. She could count on the guys at the End Zone sports bar for a stress-free evening. Some friendly competition, maybe some harmless flirting, and she’d feel more centered. More at home.
She dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, then drove her Prius the ten miles into St. Cloud to the End Zone and pulled into a parking space. It was only seven o’clock on a Wednesday night, but a lot of the spaces were taken up. Mostly with big trucks and motorcycles, which wasn’t unusual for the rural town. Her Prius wasn’t the only hybrid vehicle parked here either, though. Shouldering her purse, she stepped up onto the sidewalk and entered the sports bar.
The End Zone was a little dim inside but the large dining room to the right was lined all around with TVs set high on the walls broadcasting fishing shows and Ultimate Fighting matches along with other sports. The scent of French fries and buffalo wings hung in the air, along with the ever-present malty beer smell. There were families seated at a few of the wooden tables and booths. Couples, too. A long bar stretched along the back wall and the wait staff buzzed around with round trays of food and drink. Some country pop song was playing on the digital juke box and the crack of cue against ball could be heard as she neared the wide opening toward the room to the left.
“Hey, Claire,” Beth, one of the servers said. Her blond ponytail swung back and forth as she wiped down the bar. “Surprised to see you on a Wednesday.”
Claire shrugged. “I felt like getting out of Cypress.”
Beth laughed. “Stepford a little too perfect for you?”
She’d heard the development called that by the locals before and just smiled. “Maybe.” She tilted her chin toward one of the banners blanketing the high wall behind the bar showcasing a seasonal ale. “A hard cider, please.”
Beth handed her an open bottle of the apple ale and Claire paid her and took a sip. Crisp. Cool. Tangy. Perfect for a fall evening. Turning, she headed into the pool room.
A few games were going on, and there were about six guys and half as many girls scattered around four of the six tables. The two closest tables were open.
“Hey, Claire,” Mark called as he walked toward her. “You’re here on a Wednesday?”
Claire swallowed a sigh. Was she really so predictable? She knew the answer. Yep.
She took another sip of her ale. “Yes, and I’m ready for a couple of games. You in?”
Mark grinned. “Five bucks a game?” She nodded and he leaned on his cue. “Rack ‘em.”
She took up the triangular rack and began to gather the balls on the nearest table. Mark was in his mid-twenties and cute in a cowboy sort of way, with wavy brown hair, big brown eyes and a cleft in his chin. They’d teased and flirted a little over the past few months but it didn’t seem like either one of them was looking for more. She racked the balls and stood back, waving him to break.
Mark leaned over the table and took his breaking shot, then stood. “So what brings you here on a Wednesday?”
“I just wanted to get out tonight,” she answered, watching the balls as they knocked around the table.
He’d pocketed the yellow striped so she was solids. He took another shot and sank the nu
mber eleven. He was good, but she was better. All she needed was for him to miss a darn shot and this table would be hers.
“You seeing anyone out there in Stepford?” Mark asked with a wink as the number fourteen went into a pocket.
“Funny. Cypress isn’t that perfect, Mark.”
He shrugged and effortlessly sank another striped. “Too prissy for me, thanks. And you didn’t answer my question.”
No, she hadn’t. She wasn’t going to, either.
“Don’t you need to concentrate?” she asked instead.
He smiled again and took another shot. And missed, thank goodness. She didn’t bother hiding her smile as he stepped back to yield her the table.
“Look at miss cocky.”
“Not cocky, my friend. Confident.”
Mark apparently had no argument to that. She sized up the table, taking in the angles and cushions and pockets as she leaned her head to one side. She eyed the balls, his and hers, on the felt and it came to her with the familiar pop. She knew what shot she had to take and leaned over the table. With a satisfying crack, the cue ball struck the number five and sank it right where she’d planned.
In short order, she sank all the solids but the eight ball. She called out the balls and pockets as she did so, something she knew could be a little cocky which is why she did it in this particular game. Mark deserved it for that Stepford remark.
“Eight ball, right corner,” she said, bending over to make the last shot of the game.
The crack as the cue ball struck the black ball was one of her favorite sounds when it was her stick doing the work. The eight ball rolled smoothly over the felt to sink gracefully into the indicated pocket and she slowly straightened.
Mark cursed softly behind her and she turned. She arched a brow and he chuckled.
“I owe you five, Claire.”
She smiled now and took another drink of her ale. “You better keep count, because we’re just getting started.”
Chapter 5
Friday dawned and Jake was up before the sun. His presentation to the Cypress Institute wasn’t until eleven o’clock, but he wanted to go over his notes. And then go over them again.
As he pored over the sketches he marveled that he’d never stressed over a presentation like he was over this one. Maybe it was because this one had a much larger scope. Maybe it was because Cypress was his brother’s home. And maybe, just maybe, it was because he wanted to prove to his father that he could “pick a lane” and take a real direction.
He traced one finger over a more strenuous route through the courses that included the high rope bridge. “I’ll take this direction.”
Grabbing up his toiletry bag, he stepped into his boots and took the short path to the bathroom and its outdoor shower. The air held a crisp note, one he knew from visiting Florida in the fall would burn off as the October sun rose higher. He stripped off his sweats and stepped into the canvas stall. The pipes groaned and knocked a little, then hot water came out of the shower head and poured over him. He closed his eyes and let the water pound on the back of his neck. His mind worked, going over his presentation as he soaped and shampooed.
He should have taken his brother up on his offer to review his notes as well, but he found himself wanting to do this on his own. He’d wanted to show Claire, though. To get her opinion. But she didn’t seem the least bit interested in the courses or in him right now. He turned the water off with a twist.
After he toweled off he returned to the cabin and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror set on the wall beside the bed. He fingered the gold hoop in his ear, then shrugged. He might be dressing more corporate today, but he wasn’t going to get rid of the earring he’d had since his first year of college. What had started as a bit of rebellion had become his talisman. His good luck charm.
“And today I need all the luck I can get.”
After he shaved he went over the presentation a few more times, then dressed in charcoal pants with a light gray shirt and dark green tie. He wouldn’t wear a jacket. It would probably be pretty steamy already by eleven and he didn’t need the threat of sweat marks, thanks. He took a breath, then wrapped up his papers and charts and went out to his Jeep.
The ride to the Institute wasn’t a long one, but as he rolled over the trail he took a breath and let the setting seep into him. The feel of Cypress Corners itself. It gradually shifted from wild to tame to manicured as he neared the town center. Pulling to a stop in front of the Sales Center, he took a breath and let it out. The coffee shop across the street beckoned, so he went in for quick cup. And spied Claire putting the finishing touches on her drink at the service counter.
He took a few seconds to take her in. Today she wore a dark blue skirt and a shirt with puffy little short sleeves. She wore heels, and the backs of her legs were smooth and tight. From where he was standing, he could tell she didn’t spend all of her time sitting behind that desk of hers. No. She got out into the recreation surrounding her. Maybe took a boat out on the lake or rode the miles and miles of bike trails all around. He cocked his head and smiled to himself. Recreation was his gig and he could show her just how to get the most out of this place where she lived and worked.
“Morning, Claire,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder and threw him a smile he didn’t think she was even aware of. “Good morning, Jake.”
He stepped closer as she placed the top on her coffee. Taking a sniff, he smiled. “Cinnamon?” It mixed with the vanilla scent of her and did serious things to his head.
She shrugged and lifted the cup to her lips. “I try something different in my double-shot latte every now and then.” As she sipped, she growled and flicked her tongue over her upper lip. “Every day.”
He smiled. “Careful there.”
She shook her head. “Thanks.” Her eyes ran over him, finally settling on his face. “You look very nice.”
“I have a meeting at the Institute.”
Her brows raised. “Oh, yes! Your presentation is this morning.”
“I figured khakis and a camp shirt wasn’t the way to go.”
She nodded, her gaze roaming over his face. “You shaved.”
Yes, he shaved. She noticed?
“Yes.”
They fell silent and he took a second to run his eyes over her front as closely as he’d studied her back. “You look nice today, too.”
She glanced down at her blouse, her cheeks turning pink. “I bought a couple of things.”
Why was she embarrassed by that? “Come into a windfall, did you?”
The smile on her lips was a little sly and he felt a jolt of awareness.
“Hmm,” he began. “Claire Callahan is keeping secrets?”
It was her turn to shrug. “Maybe.”
He liked this side of her. As he opened his mouth to ask her to join him at one of the little tables her eyes flicked to the clock. Damn. His time with her was up, then.
“I have to run.” She crossed to the door, then turned. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks.” He watched as she crossed the street and went into the Sales Center, then ordered his coffee. Leaning back on the counter as he waited for his drink, he puzzled over Claire. She seemed self-conscious when she’d admitted buying herself something and then, when he’d asked her about it, she’d gotten a glimmer in her eye he’d never seen before. Claire with that sparkle was really hot. And just what was she hiding?
The girl at the coffee counter called his name and he grabbed his coffee and headed back outside. He’d have time to figure out Claire later. After the presentation.
Right now, he had to be on his A game.
Turning up the cobbled path to the Cypress Institute, he took in the building and its surroundings. It seemed to embody the mindset of Cypress Corners. Done in soft greens and browns, it reflected the colors of the natural landscape of the place. The edges of the building were softened with plantings exploding with colors. Blues and pinks and yellows dotted tall fringes o
f tan and purple grasses. His sister-in-law Harmony could most certainly name every genus and species of every flower and grass, but he could only allow that they looked very pretty. He opened one of the wide glass doors and stepped inside.
Decorated in the colors of true Florida—rich greens, soft tans, and clear blues—it was filled with handmade rattan furniture and breathtaking photos of some of the native flora and fauna hung on the textured walls. Jake liked this space. It was comfortable and serene. He mulled that over. Those were two things he never craved but he eagerly took them in this morning.
“Mr. Chapman,” the redhead behind the reception counter said with a smile. “Good morning.”
He smiled. “Good morning. I’m here for my eleven o’clock.”
“A little early, but Dr. Robbins will like that.” She tapped on her keyboard and nodded at the screen. Facing Jake, she smiled again. “He said you’re welcome to go into the conference room and set up.” She pointed toward the hall to the right. “Third door down.”
He thanked her and took himself and his plans toward the conference room.
“Mr. Chapman,” a voice called from an open door as he passed it.
The plaque beside the doorframe declared the room to be the director’s office. Jake stopped and looked at the man behind the desk.
“Good morning, Dr. Robbins,” he said.
“Good morning.”
The director gazed down at his desk as he shuffled at the papers scattered on it. His glasses sat on his balding head as he nodded agreement at something he read. Jake waited a beat, then cleared his throat. The other man’s head shot up.
“Oh!” Dr. Robbins smiled. “Just going over a few things before our meeting. I trust you’re ready to wow us?”
Jake smiled back. He couldn’t help but like the director. The guy seemed absent-minded but even without Harmony’s glowing endorsement of the man he would see his mind never stopped working. His skin was tan and he looked like a guy who spent time outdoors hiking and biking in addition to spending his time behind a desk.
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