A Heart's Design

by Natalee Cooper

  The sun was still on the upside, ushering in the perfect afternoon with a few clouds and a cool breeze, and his focus clung to them. He bought a bottled water, found an outside table at the little seafood shack where they were supposed to meet, and rested his forearms on his knees.

  All around him, people milled about, enjoying their day, and he welcomed the distraction of watching them come and go. Families and couples. Fathers and sons. Moms. Brothers…

  A jagged emptiness speared his heart dead-center. Without even a warning stutter, his chest caved in on itself, pinching so badly it hurt to breathe. He closed his eyes as parts of his nightmare resurfaced. Pine trees replaced light poles, cowboy hats replaced ball caps. His feet were no longer planted on hot dry cement but blackened soil…

  He rubbed his hands over his face and up under his sunglasses, pulling them off to dangle in one hand. Sunlight blazed against his closed lids as he lifted his face to the sky, its warm, blinding rays rooting him back to reality—one that told him maybe Natasha was right. Maybe he was still broken. And foolish to return to the ranch. To rebuild.

  But though the knots in his gut physically loosened with the idea of backing out, another part of him latched onto those minutes in Madison’s office when she’d spoken of inspiration and new beginnings.

  Dig deep.

  He opened his eyes and traced a streak of condensation on his water bottle, focusing on that moment instead of the dark, familiar guilt that had been his soul’s only companion for the past eleven years. The guilt he’d thought he’d overcome but had only buried.

  “Hey.”

  A quick shove had his sunglasses back in place as Natasha stopped next to the table. “Hi.” Clearing his throat, he stood, hating the gravel in his voice. “Where’s Simon?”

  She waved her hand behind her, not meeting his gaze, and he could have reached out and touched the invisible three-foot wall between them.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll be here. Marty Ferris called as we were getting out of the car. Something about wanting regular updates on the restoration.” She sipped from the fruity cocktail she held before accepting the chair he offered.

  “The mayor means well. He might be a pain, but he’s harmless.” Jase glanced between his watch and the crowd, but Simon was nowhere in sight. “Did you get that list of local contractors I sent over this morning?”

  She lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, fully acknowledging him for the first time. “We’re really going to do this?”

  Resentment flexed its pointy claws, and he could only stare.

  “Fine. Let’s talk business.”

  “We can talk about your little announcement at the gala instead, if you’d like?” he shot back, her audacity from that night still gnawing at him.

  She spread her pink lips in a wide smile. “You said you liked surprises.”

  “Nice to see we’re being professional here.”

  “You started this party. I’m just playing along.”

  “No. This mess started the moment you crossed the line out on that balcony.”

  Natasha shrugged. “I was drunk.”

  “Drunk.” He searched for the girl he knew in the woman across from him. Not a hint. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

  Holding her glass high, she saluted him before taking a long sip.

  Jase refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache inched up his neck to throb at his temples and across his forehead. “So. Did Simon get it? The contractor list?”

  Her gold and mint-tipped nails flashed in the sunlight. “I wouldn’t know about that. My brother doesn’t like me stepping out of my marketing role.”

  “Huh? He does know you double majored, right? Marketing and business. I assumed you were running Weston Designs.”

  “Don’t expect my name on the company letterhead any time soon.”

  He winced at her bitter undertone, but she didn’t seem to see his reaction. She’d shifted her attention to the ocean. The dull light in her expression contrasted sharply with the sun glinting off the water, and guilt for not being a better friend pecked at the wall they’d both built. “You’re brilliant with business. I’m sorry, but your brother’s a fool not to see it.”

  The tight lines around her mouth relaxed. “Simon’s protective of what he’s built. He’s worked hard to get where he’s at.”

  The excuses didn’t quite fly. “But does he know how you feel? Do you want to be a bigger part of Weston Designs?”

  “Doesn’t matter. It won’t happen.”

  “Tell him.”

  Her laughter cut him off. “You might be good with real estate, honey, but you know nothing about relationships. Family or otherwise.”

  He flinched back. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re the man who hides behind his bachelor status, remember? The guy who buries himself in work to keep anything real from getting too close.”

  The accusations stung. “I love how you think you know me so well.”

  “Don’t I?”

  She finished off her drink then flagged down a waiter cleaning off tables and asked for a refill, reminding Jase of the night she’d tried to kiss him—the alcohol on her breath and her wild actions after. But alcoholic was a big label.

  Just like broken.

  He took a swig from his water, letting the cold liquid slip down his throat as he searched again for Simon, ready to end the day altogether.

  “So, who’s this Blakeley girl? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  The bottle slipped in his hand. “Madison?”

  “First names, huh?”

  Three quarters of his college years had been spent around Natasha, enough time to tell there was more than general curiosity behind her light words. “She’s an architect. I met her at the gala.”

  “So she said when I met her this morning.” She barely thanked the waiter as he replaced her drink with a fresh one.

  “You saw her?”

  “Mm, hmm. She seemed pretty excited to work with you in the future.”

  A jolt hit him in the gut like waves against rock. “She told you that?”

  She ignored his question. “You like this girl.”

  The way her jaw muscles pulled tight dared Jase to contradict her, and he felt another row of bricks layer that invisible wall between them. “Does it matter?”

  A mottled red colored her cheeks and throat as she glanced away. “You’ll let her in, but not me.”

  Confusion coiled with frustration at the emotion behind her questions, and he rubbed his forehead. “She’s just an architect I met at the gala.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s true.”

  Her answering snort and change of expression hit like an uppercut, catching him off guard.

  “Since you were so kind to give me advice the other night,” she said, “let me repay you with some of my own. Don’t fall into that trap. Simon told me all about his run-in with her that night. Business ambitions are great, but do hers really end there?”

  She took another sip from her drink, casually wiping the moisture from her lips with her finger like she hadn’t just pulled the ground from beneath him.

  “Just watching out for you,” she replied to his silence.

  His grip tightened on the water bottle, crinkling the edges. No way is she right.

  The idea of a conniving, in-it-for-the-opportunity Madison triggered a number of defenses, but it was the possibility that she didn’t respect his wish for discretion that soured his appetite as the seconds slipped to minutes. His judgment had never been that far off.

  When Simon still didn’t show, he stood, his chair scraping against the concrete. “Listen, your time is short with your flight leaving tonight, and I’ve still got a lot of work to do before I leave tomorrow. Let your brother know I’m sorry we couldn’t catch up as planned, okay? I’ll get in touch with him next week about those contractors.”

  Natasha pulled on a pair of shades but wasn’t quick enough to mask
the hurt in her eyes before covering them. “Sure.”

  He hovered only a second before heading to his car without a backward glance. Her assessment of Madison was like a record on replay, matching his steps. They repeated in his head, leaving him unable to concentrate on anything else. Not the people he bumped into in his haste or their pointed glares. The sweet and salty aromas battling along the shorefront, even the fishy odors woven in between, didn’t faze him. His thoughts were on the first time he'd met the charming woman in the scarlet gown.

  He needed to talk to her. Hear from her own mouth it wasn’t true.

  He needed to be on the next flight to Idaho.

  Chapter Six

  Madison dug her fingers into the airplane’s tiny armrests. “The seatbelt sign lit up five minutes ago. Didn’t you hear the announcement?”

  Eric set his magazine in his lap. “Relax. Seriously, you’re going to break the plastic off those things.”

  She tried to unstick her fingers from their death hold, but they refused. If anything, her knuckles grew whiter. The captain’s voice came over the speaker, reporting their descent and expected landing time, and a strong temptation to cover her face until then might have won out if Eric hadn’t already razzed her for not taking her belt off even once.

  The small plane had two seats on one side with a single seat on the other and handled turbulence like the rickety Rocket Ride at the traveling fair her father used to take her to as a kid.

  “Be a decent person and distract me with some good news? After you buckle.”

  He clicked his belt in place with an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s see, Camille’s supposed to look over the restaurant contract this weekend. We’ll have to celebrate on Monday when she returns it. Sarah can bring her famous indoor s’mores.”

  She laughed as he patted his stomach, but when the plane bumped again, her eyes clamped shut.

  “Here.”

  The callouses he’d earned from working on getting the La Jolla shop ready were rough against her skin as he rubbed his hands back and forth over hers.

  “Um, thanks.” Madison peeked at him sideways as the almost intimate touch crowded her stomach with distressed spikes. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she tucked her hair behind one ear, hoping the unease in her voice passed for plane jitters and not confusion from his touch. “I hope Jase likes my ideas.”

  “He’d better.”

  A weak laugh made it past her tight throat.

  “Cutter’s an idiot if he doesn’t recognize your skills.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but his lips stayed pressed together.

  “Did you know Jase was from Idaho?”

  He twisted a loose string on the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t. Did he say that’s where he’s from?”

  Rolling the tension from her shoulders, she stole a glance out the window for any signs they’d be landing soon. “No, but something his assistant said made me think he did. I’m surprised none of us knew that about him.”

  “Not sure what makes his life so special that we need all the little details. Just saying.”

  And there was his bitterness again. She got why it was there but wished he’d hold off his judgment before condemning Jase to be a clone of his mother and father. “True. I guess I assumed Sarah, at least, would have known.”

  He conceded her point with an eye roll. “Promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “Promise me you won’t go all gaga on him like Miss Swoonypants. Cutter probably wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of certain situations.”

  Her laughter startled the woman in front of them, and she covered her mouth, speaking low. “You’re serious?”

  Eric wasn’t smiling. “You know what I mean. He didn’t get his reputation for nothing, and I can see you’re flattered by the attention. And I get it. It’s a big deal for the company, but…”

  The laughter that had burst from her moments before died flat on her lips. “But what?”

  Creases marred his forehead, his gaze flicking between her and his hands. “Just don’t let his flattery cloud your judgment.”

  “Whoa, I’m not—”

  He put a hand up. “I only mean, make sure you get a fair deal. You aren’t getting any recognition for this. The least he can do is make it worth our time.”

  A distinct suspicion Eric worried about more than protecting the business unearthed that same uncomfortable feeling from before. Any other time, she’d press him for the truth, but not now. Not when his gaze lingered slightly longer with each glance lately.

  The plane shuddered with a sudden dip, and she slammed her eyes shut again, a small squeak escaping her lips. Their conversation, along with her worry, drowned between the blood rushing her ears and the captain’s voice over the speaker.

  When they safely touched down a few minutes later, Eric nudged her arm. She groaned at the queasy feeling in her stomach. “Is it over?”

  “Yep. Unless we collide with another plane as we taxi to the terminal.”

  “Not. Funny.”

  They made it off the plane and got their car without much trouble, and, once on the road, her muscles relaxed. Eric played navigator as she drove, her unsettled stomach from the flight slowly fading with each mile. The fresh air coming in her open window helped.

  His face was lifted toward the sun through the open passenger window, where wide pastures flowed into large hills that blurred by them. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve counted about ten dirt roads that appear to lead nowhere. Except, they all have these fancy signs saying stuff like Dew Ranch and Dusty Peak Ranch. One I couldn’t make out all the way because of the big bull horns nailed to it, but there was definitely a ranch in the name. Something tells me we aren’t in Kansas anymore.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or maybe we are…”

  Laughter sprang from deep in her throat to fill the cab of the rental car. “What did you expect?”

  “Good question. I have no idea.”

  She gathered the loose strands of hair that swept across her face in the breeze and tucked them behind her ear, enjoying the scenery. The farther they drove, the greener it got.

  “Turn here,” he said a few miles later, pointing to a sign at a bend in the road. “It should be just up ahead.”

  After about a hundred yards, a modest but intriguing lodge came into view, the structure tucked into the trees like it was made for that exact spot of land.

  Eric leaned forward in his seat. “You ever stay at a B&B before?”

  “Nope. But it sounds cool. And they feed you breakfast. You know, in case that wasn’t clear.” Madison parked in one of the designated spots and smiled like it was her birthday. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Meh, it’s all right.”

  She stared at him. “You’re crazy.” The symmetrical yet charming building oozed enchantment. “Maybe it’s a girl thing.” Though she knew her father would like it.

  Call it enchanting—no. Charming? Possibly.

  Regardless, she was in love, especially with the stone foundation and wraparound deck. Each window had character as well, but the half-moon on the second level with the little walkout balcony above the front door was instantly her favorite.

  The three roof peaks were white-washed, complementing the honey-colored logs making up the rest of the structure. A tall chimney rose up on each side of the exterior, the rockwork matching that of the foundation. She’d bet her favorite sketch pad the stones were original and most likely local. There was even a rope swing in the trees that edged the clearing off to the side of the house.

  Beautifully perfect.

  Climbing out of the car, she hurried to grab her things and was at the door before Eric started up the steps.

  “Do we knock?” he asked.

  “Um. I don’t know.” She searched for a sign or directions, but there was only one massive wooden door with a dogwood wreath on it.

  “I still think it’s weird we’re staying here and not at a hotel.”
r />   “Penny, Jase’s assistant, mentioned there’s some sort of convention going on and everything in town was booked.”

  Taking the welcome mat literally, she twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Spices ushered them inside, and her mouth watered the exact moment her stomach growled. A heartbeat later, a tall man in blue jeans and flannel pushed through a set of swinging doors off the entry.

  “You must be Miss Blakeley and Mr. Strand.” He tipped his broad cowboy hat. “I’m Dustin Henry, fillin’ in for the owner, Jo, while she picks something up in town.”

  There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t smile at the country in the man’s voice, and Madison grinned like a schoolgirl.

  “You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, so make yourselves at home. I guess you’re the only guests until tomorrow night, so you’ll have the place to yourselves.”

  He took them on a small tour of the main level before showing them where they’d sleep the next two nights. There were four rooms total upstairs as well as a large loft. The half-moon window gifted the open space with light, and she made a mental note to ask Jo about the B&B’s designer before leaving.

  A loveseat and several overstuffed chairs of different shades and styles were spread about, along with a few reading lamps. It was simple but inviting, and the high vaulted tongue-and-groove ceiling gave it an open feel. “I love it.”

  “Yeah, Jo’s got herself a great place here,” Dustin said.

  Again, the sweet, spicy aroma wafted up, and Eric put a hand to his stomach. “Okay, please tell me she still has some of whatever it is that smells so amazing?”

  The corners of the cowboy’s eyes creased, his deep tan complementing the light brown hair peeking out from beneath his hat. “That amazing smell is Jo’s homemade apple turnovers. And I believe she kept two just for you guys.”

  “I’ve landed in heaven,” Eric said.

  Eyeing everything around her, Madison couldn’t argue.

  The fill-in-host nodded below to the kitchen. “I’ll set them in the oven to keep warm while you two get settled. Go ahead and help yourself when you’re ready.”

  She thanked him and then followed Eric down the hall to drop their bags in their designated rooms. The low-key atmosphere of the B&B spilled over into her bedroom’s furnishings, lightening her heart. Being at the end of the hall was also a bonus, giving her not one view but two.