A tense laugh rose from within her, and she turned her head away, but not before a blush kissed her cheeks.
He couldn’t help his smile. “Sounds perfect to me. Though, now I'm feeling even guiltier asking you to draw up designs for a measly home.”
“Don't say that. I'm happy to do it.” But she shook her head. “No, not just happy, excited. Your land is like this fantastic art gallery, and the artist in me can't wait to finish adding my own piece to its collection. Besides…”
“What?”
“There’s a sweetness to your land.”
He kept his focus ahead, though his chest pounded at her words as they settled deep into his soul.
“Sorry. Ignore me.” Her voice softened. “I'm weird when it comes to my work.”
“Not at all. The way you seem to speak to the land, and the excitement you find in the stories surrounding them? How you inscribe those elements into the designs? It's an incredible talent. One I saw reflected in both your portfolio and in that pink cottage. Even your own office. And I felt it tonight as we talked about the ranch home.”
Wonder colored every detail of her expression, and he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and share the feeling with her. It was palpable.
“Thank you for that. Eric usually rolls his eyes at my creative process.”
“Trust me, you have a gift. I have good taste in art, remember? And I’m sorry, but the guy’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”
She bumped his arm, making him misstep again, and his fingers flexed to take hers and keep her close—a pull he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.
He walked them past more shops, stopping occasionally to let a large group pass. “Speaking of your accountant, does he want us to pick him up some food?”
“Nah, he’ll have found something, I think.”
The poor straps of her purse were absently strangled as she wound and unwound them between her fingers. “About projects with stories to tell, how’s the restoration coming?” she asked. “Even boarded up, the curvature of the theatre front always brings a smile to my face. It’s a striking building. I can’t wait for its completion.”
Something weighed on her, but he accepted the subtle topic change and pushed his hand into the pocket of his slacks to stop the urge to lace his fingers through hers. “The building is definitely unique. And it’s going well. Though, if you have any tips on how to get finicky designers and nitpicky mayors to play nice together, please share.”
Her laughter was both knowing and unashamed.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “Simon does seriously amazing work. He’s just a bit…eccentric, and he doesn’t appreciate the city hovering. Or me.”
“Do you hover?”
A teasing smile played around her cute mouth, and he inhaled her perfume. The scent was a dangerous, alluring combination, and he stopped right there in the middle of the sidewalk. There, with her next to him, his demons seemed no bigger than the bugs drawn to the glow of the shop lights. “Maybe. Does that bother you? Me hovering?”
“No.”
Her breathless answer pulled him closer, and his hands begged to slide up her arms and cradle her face. “You sure?” People veered around them as he gazed between the blues of her eyes and the soft curve of her lips. “Because, you might find me hovering quite a lot over the next several months if we decide to do this.”
She reached up and fixed his collar like she had the first night they’d met, not quite meeting his gaze. “I’ll tell you if it gets annoying.”
“You’d better.” He lingered close another beat and then grinned, but it took another few seconds for the heat at the back of his neck to fade.
They walked again, and her hand brushed his as she stepped out of the way of two small children skipping. His skin burned with the touch. Thoughts of how well she had fit in his arms as they’d danced, how she was nothing like the other women in his life, crowded his brain, and he pushed at his sleeves.
Nothing like them.
No. The girl walking by his side was every sunset on his private beach home in La Jolla. Calm. Freeing. Full of inspiration.
Breathtaking.
And something he craved more of. She was low tide, carrying away his anxieties with seemingly no effort. Only she wasn’t his to come home to each night…
Jase cleared his throat for probably the fiftieth time that evening and focused on the scenery, the people, his own shadow. Anywhere safe. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve stressed more over this restoration project than all my others combined. Penny practically kicked me out of the office this weekend, saying it would do me good to get away.”
When the resort lodge broke into view, she nodded toward the large pond situated in front of the portico and the illuminated landscape framing it. “At least you picked the right town to escape to. This place is seriously cool.”
She tipped her face toward the night sky, having no idea how refreshing and beautiful she was.
“Tell me more about you. What made you decide not to follow in your father's footsteps? Unless you have, and I don't know about it.” A playful grin parted her lips. “Maybe you moonlight as a rancher back in California?”
When asking about her family earlier, he'd known there was a chance it could come around to him, but he'd taken it anyway. Now sweat threatened his palms. He wasn't ready to talk about that part of his life. Even if she was the one person who’d understand.
“Maybe.”
Despite the warm night, she rubbed her arms and gazed around. “The lodge is beautiful, but I think I’m glad it was all booked. I like the charm of the B&B. I would have hated to miss it.”
Her changing the subject was subtle like the shadows on the moon rising over the hillside, and Jase’s respect for her deepened. Turning them back, he soaked up the easy calm between them; it was the perfect companion to the low murmur of people and nature as they walked side by side.
As they neared the restaurant, he veered off the main sidewalk, but she kept going. Grabbing her good arm, he laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Walking back to your car,” she said, though it sounded like a question.
“Well, you’re going the wrong way.” He pointed out his rental car three stalls down. “Since I’m parked right over there.”
Her cute lower lip dropped open. “How’d you find a spot so close?”
“I’m the parking shark king.”
She snorted at his self-proclaimed title as he held the passenger door for her.
“Actually, it was luck, but aren’t you glad?”
Her subtle perfume hit him again—the fragrance whispering of somewhere tropical under the stars. The way her dress shimmered in the streetlamp’s glow, and the hint of her tanned calves as she straightened her dress back over her knees, had him wishing it was the summer before senior year and they were out at old Thompson’s barn dancing until midnight, sharing secrets. Back when everything was easy. Simple.
Closing her door, he made his way to the other side of the car, taking the few moments alone to rein in his thoughts. Once inside, he pushed the key into the ignition and concentrated on backing out and getting onto the main road, but after a couple blocks, his attention drifted back to his passenger. There, in the dim light, between the acoustic guitar and deep vocals of the slow country song in the background, business contracts and deadlines were long forgotten. Even his nightmares were only vague memories.
“What are you thinking about over there?” he found himself asking.
“Truthfully?”
A smart remark was on the tip of his tongue, but the opportunity for a glimpse into her head, into her thoughts, rushed his body with nothing but sincere desire. “Truthfully.”
“I was thinking I really enjoyed tonight.”
Her face was angled just the right way that her expression was hard to read, but he grinned at her admission as he focused back on the road. Then he startled as her laughter filled the small space.
“What do you mean?”
A glance caught her pinning him with the most adorable, pleading look.
“Don’t judge me…”
Crossing his heart, he tried for his best solemn expression. “No judging.”
“It’s just…I didn’t know what to expect. Or what to wear.” She winced. “I hadn’t planned on a fancy dinner, being in a little Idaho town and all, and I worried I’d embarrass us both.”
The sound of stretching leather told him she’d leaned back in her seat and another stolen glance from his peripheral showed she’d removed her heels, something he wondered if she was conscious of doing. He liked it. A lot.
“Yeah, no. Not embarrassed.”
At the last stoplight out of town, his attention strayed to her toes then to her face. The glow from the dash reflected in her eyes, and he saw in them something that matched his own growing attraction.
Undoing the top button of his dress shirt, he loosened the collar beneath his sweater, hitting the gas pedal a little late when the light switched to green.
I’m playing with firecrackers.
He watched the dark fence line along the road like he was on it, with the ambitious, original-thinking, dedicated architect on one side and adorable, tempting, refreshing Madison on the other.
Maybe I can have both.
His soul begged for her talent and inspiration for the ranch, but to know her better was like an unsatisfied craving. Questions constantly swirled in his head. Like, what was her favorite movie? What scared her? Did she prefer cake or pie? What California beach would she choose to spend the day at? How would it feel to be curled up next to her on a blanket under the stars, her lips parted against his…
The car’s headlights caught the street to the B&B, and Jase barely made the turn without throwing them both into their seatbelts. Parking next to her car a few moments later, he got out to open her door, mentally chastising himself for his juvenile distractions.
Instead of slipping back into her shoes, Madison grabbed them and stepped out barefoot as night sounds joined the rustling leaves in a breeze that swept through the aspen.
“Thank you.”
“For?” she asked.
The car’s fender supported his weight as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “For agreeing to design the home.” There. That was true, but he pushed away from the rental and faced her. “You did agree, didn’t you?”
“I don’t think you officially asked.”
“Will you please design my home, Miss Blakeley?”
“Can I have some time to think it over?”
His jaw slackened before he could stop it.
She laughed. “Of course I’d love to design your home.”
“You’re literally torturing me tonight, you know that?”
He shoved his keys in his pocket and kept his hand there, so he wouldn’t do anything stupid like press her up against the car and kiss the mischief off her lips. Or, pull the rest of her hair free to fall around her shoulders and thread his fingers through the dark layers while discovering that favorite beach of hers.
“Here.” He held out his other hand toward her. “Let me see your phone.” He wiggled his fingers when she eyed his open palm. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”
She dug her phone from her purse and dropped it into his hand. “Why do you need my phone?”
“Because you want my number.” Her mouth fell open, and he looked away so he wouldn’t close it for her. “That way we can throw ideas back and forth for the ranch house without going through email or poor Penny.” He typed his info into her contacts and then sent himself a message before handing it back.
Her laughter complemented the beautiful night as she read it aloud. “Tonight was incredible?”
“You’re welcome.” He started them toward the B&B but stopped at the foot of the steps. “So? What’s your verdict on Idaho? You like it?”
Her shoes dangled from her fingertips, their silver catching the porch light. “It’s definitely slower paced than San Diego.”
“Night and day.” The door was only four steps and a few feet away. I should close that distance. I really should. But he wasn’t ready for the moment to end. “Your concepts for the house are fantastic. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with.”
“Hopefully the ideas I shared today made sense. I tend to ramble when I’m enthusiastic about a project.”
“I like when you ramble.” Under the stars, blanketed by night, a recklessness sparked inside of him, and he took a step toward her, the hammering of his heart at odds with the calm, clear evening.
Her gaze dropped to his lips as she felt for the railing and pulled herself up the first step. “Do you know when you’d like to break ground?”
Reaching up, he swept back those few strands of her dark hair that had been calling to him all night, letting his touch fall against her skin. She trembled as he traced the curve of her cheek and stepped up beside her, a whisper falling from his lips. “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this…”
Floorboards creaked, and he jerked back to see Eric step onto the porch, carrying a loaded cardboard box. A torrent of ice water couldn’t have stopped his heart quicker, and when it finally picked itself up, it beat with a different sort of swiftness than it had seconds ago.
“You’re back.” Eric’s attention cemented on his boss, and the hard lines around his mouth spoke volumes.
Jase didn't have to dig too deep to understand where the guy’s reaction rooted.
Echoes of distant engines and crickets wedged themselves into the instant hush like the scratchy static of a CB radio until Madison spoke up.
“What’s with the box?” she asked, clutching the straps of her shoes.
He sniffed. “Told Jo I’d take it out back to the shed for her since it’s so heavy.”
She nodded toward the large carton. “Need help?”
“Wouldn’t want you to ruin your dress.”
Jase almost laughed at the entire scene, but from the expression on Madison’s face, she didn’t see the humor.
“I can help,” he offered. A protest was no doubt on her tongue, but he raised an eyebrow. “It really is a great dress.”
Color washed over her cheeks. “Thank you again for listening to my ideas. I look forward to working on the ranch house.” Her shoes clattered together from where they hung at her fingertips as she skipped up the few steps, crossed the porch, and slipped into the B&B.
He raked a hand through his hair and down over the back of his neck before meeting the pins in the accountant’s unblinking stare. The look said help was the last thing the guy wanted.
“She’s a great designer. You’re lucky she’s agreed to take the job.”
“I believe you.”
I really do.
Chapter Twelve
Several circles of light danced on the ceiling, reflections from a jewelry box sitting in the sunlight on the bedside table. Madison snuggled deeper into her covers and stared at the patterns, focusing her thoughts on anywhere but last night.
Her phone alarm went off, but she ignored the beeping until it gave up. Curling into a ball, she nestled her head into the white pillow. Less than a second later, she pulled it over her face like the action could smother her traitorous mind for going straight to Jase and those steps last night.
Really. This is ridiculous.
She threw her covers back and scraped her phone off the nightstand, canceling the alarm for good. On the screen was a missed text.
From him.
Swiping her hair back from around her face, she sat up and read that he had business and might not be able to see them off. The message wasn’t long. Or personal. Which was a blessing, because it was safer that way. Because Jase Cutter wasn’t just any guy, as she’d reminded herself last night when she couldn’t sleep. He was the man whose ventures every west coast newspaper
noted, the man half the women in southern California fangirled over on social media. His lifestyle, the society he moved in, was one she wasn't used to.
Thinking to the night of the gala reaffirmed that gap. It would be foolish to toe even a pinky over that professional line. Keeping things on a business level was safer.
Much safer.
In the bathroom, she avoided the mirror as long as possible, only using it long enough to sweep her hair into a ponytail. She did all of this determined not to think about a certain bachelor’s almost kiss. And failed.
What a disaster.
But her eyes fluttered closed at memories of the warmth he had trailed on her cheek with his touch last night. And then there was everything else. He’d gifted her so much confidence with his praise of her work and had seemed genuinely intrigued. Yesterday was the first time since losing her father she’d felt someone truly got her. That someone understood the way a plot of land or dilapidated building, even a blank sheet of drafting paper, spoke to her.
Beautiful disaster? Ugh.
Whatever last night had been, Eric’s timing was a blessing.
It was.
That last thought was repeated over and over as she dressed and made up her bed and was almost believable by the time she hefted her bag off of the floor and shut her door behind her. There were no doubts Idaho would be missed—Jase’s land, too—but her time with its owner left her anxious for home and normalcy, and, for the first time ever, Madison was impatient to get on a plane.
“Morning.”
She startled at the sound of Eric’s surly voice. “Good morning,” she said, not bothering to infuse a cheerfulness she didn’t feel.
Her grip on her bag tightened when he only took his stuff downstairs and out to the rental. His disappointment in her hurt, but she couldn’t fault him. She’d promised, made a resolution, to show the influential mogul her company was worth taking a chance on…and that got a little skewed last night.
Downstairs, she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge for their drive, passing on the homemade breakfast and treats heaped on a platter in the center of the kitchen island. As tempting as the gooey pumpkin chocolate chip and orange cranberry muffins were, eating before a flight would not be a good move.
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