Beck filled Mocha’s water bowl and followed them out the door. While they piled in Davis’s Escalade, Beck hopped in his Wrangler and made the short trip to Colburn and Sons, trying to anticipate his father’s questions and working on the cool, calm responses he could give in return. He might have his family’s trust now, but would he ever live down those wild years?
Beck’s oldest brother, Noah, occupied the main office since he’d taken over managing the business a few years ago. Beck strode past that door and turned the corner to reach the conference room, where his father had set up a desk with enough space around it to maneuver his wheelchair. It had taken a while for Pop to deal with the aftereffects of the stroke that left him partially paralyzed, but he was finally back in the game. Which meant he was back to putting his two cents into everything related to the business.
For almost fifty years, Mom and Pop had put their time and money, their heart and soul, into a successful architectural salvage business that supported not only all the Colburns but their employees and their families, too. Beck couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep an eye on every detail. But Pop didn’t ride anyone else’s ass as hard as he did Beck’s.
He stuck his head inside the doorway. “You wanted to see me?”
“Progress report on the new project.”
To Pop, it was a “project,” one of many that Colburn and Sons had invested a bunch of money into. To Beck, it was the business he was putting his heart and soul into. His chance to build his own future, have a real career. He’d pay Pop back every cent. With interest. But until then Pop could demand progress reports as often as he wanted to.
“The bar’s in place and we’ll lay the hardwood floors soon. It’ll look great.” He’d installed a long bar they’d salvaged from an old pub in Erie. The wood finish was worn smooth and had a gorgeous patina. The hardwood floorboards had been salvaged as well and would fit right in with his vision for the place.
“It’s taking too long.”
Things weren’t too far behind schedule. What did Pop expect when he had to work all day salvaging? It was taking a long time because he wanted the job done right, seeing to everything himself, doing the work himself, not hiring it out to someone else. He wanted every detail to be perfect. He was going to secure the trust Pop claimed to have in him.
“And what about the rest of it? You can’t just throw some tables and chairs into a room and call it a bar.”
“I know.” He’d spent hours scrolling through online images every night after Holly went to bed and handpicked materials he thought would give him the look he was going for. “I’m working on it.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Beck narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You can spend your time where it’ll be more profitable. Noah has it all figured out.”
“What are you talking about?” Beck repeated, his voice a little louder. His jaw hurt from gritting his teeth. Why was Noah making plans for Beck’s bar?
“Your brother will explain it to you.”
“I’m here.” Noah strode into the conference room like he owned the place. “Hey, Beck. Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand. What’s going on?” He didn’t want his big brother running to the rescue. He didn’t need his help in the first place.
“I had a call with a producer with the Home Improvement Network. He wants to film an episode in Lakeside.”
“A reality show? Are you crazy?” Beck could see where this was going and it was going downhill fast. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to act like a grown-up and not like the baby brother he always seemed to become when surrounded by family who wanted to tell him what to do. “Why on earth would they want to film in Lakeside?”
“Lakeside is a picturesque village, an undiscovered jewel on the shores of Lake Margaret,” Noah said, like he was quoting from a brochure. Hell, he probably was quoting from some brochure. His brother caught his gaze. “And because the designer they’re sending grew up here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Rachel Bradford?” Beck scrubbed his face in frustration. This was his bar and he was losing control fast. “What the hell, Noah? I’ve seen her show. She pretties up bedrooms and kitchens.” Pinks and yellows. Tulips and butterflies. “What does she know about designing a bar? And the Home Improvement Network? My bar is definitely not a home. My bar’s not going to be a part of some reality show.”
“Our bar needs to get up and running.” Pop stared him down. “This is a good deal. All we have to pay for is materials. They’re hiring a local crew. We’ll get free advertisement.”
“It’ll bring tourists into Lakeside,” his brother, the mayor, added. “Her show has millions of viewers.”
“But what is she going to do to my bar?” His hands curled into fists. “I don’t want her touching my place.”
Noah frowned, “It’s a done deal, Beck. Don’t worry. She’s a professional.”
His family didn’t have a clue about his history with Rachel. She could still be holding a grudge. Would she sabotage his place? He could still picture the sneers she’d sent him as she strutted down the halls, surrounded by her little group of followers. He was embarrassed now when he remembered “accidentally” tripping her when her arms were full of books.
“Beck? Are you still with us?” Noah snapped.
He glanced up to the clock on the wall. “I don’t have time to talk about this now. I’m late.”
On the way to the salvage site, Beck couldn’t stop thinking how Rachel Bradford had snuck into the fire station that hot June evening shortly before high school graduation. Just the day before, her friends had dumped all their trash on him as they dashed out of the lunchroom, calling him the garbage man’s son. So when he saw her slink by the Colburn and Sons showroom, he’d followed her, curious about what she’d be doing in the empty fire station. Not trusting her an inch.
He’d been pretty damned shocked to see the country club princess in short shorts and a tank top swinging from the fire pole like she was a stripper. Her eyes had been closed and she’d been humming some bump-and-grind tune while her hips swung in time with the rhythm. He’d just turned eighteen and had never seen anyone move like that in real life.
It was such a ridiculous sight, he’d started to laugh from sheer surprise. Better than thinking about the boner he sported from watching her. And when her eyes flew open and she’d stumbled and fell to the floor, he’d laughed even harder. He knew, even then, it was a jerk thing to do, but he couldn’t stop. Her face practically glowed red, and it was the first time he’d ever seen her stripped of her self-confidence.
She’d scrambled to her feet and he didn’t even help her up. It had never crossed his mind. He couldn’t even remember what he said to her—something about breaking and entering—but he’d never forget how she’d spat out that she was going to get out of this stupid town and make something of herself but he’d never leave. He’d be stuck in Lakeside for the rest of his miserable life, hoarding garbage with the rest of the dirty Colburns, but she was never setting foot there again once she had her high school diploma.
Her words had rung so damn true that he’d thrown some nasty words back at her. And he’d made damn sure her prediction hadn’t been completely accurate.
And look at that, Rachel Bradford was coming back to Lakeside, too.
Chapter Two
The old hometown had changed a lot in the twenty-some years she’d been gone, but it was still a lazy small town with nothing going for it but the lake. As Rachel drove around, she could easily pick out the condo units her brother’s company had built. They didn’t exactly blend in with the historic lake houses and quaint cottages.
Rachel pulled her rental car into the gravel parking lot at Colburn and Sons Salvage. Her parents had always called the place a junkyard, but the Colburns had been salvaging mate
rials, recycling and repurposing them long before it became trendy. She’d gone inside only once when she and her friends had strolled through and badmouthed the place to all the customers inside. That had been in retaliation for when Beckett Colburn had tripped her in the hall. She still had the scar on her knee. And a twinge of embarrassment for how stupid kids could be.
Stu told her to get there as soon as she could, so she’d grabbed the first available flight. She’d been able to book a room at The Lilac Inn, a local B&B, and stopped there first to change. She was meeting her family for dinner—kill her now—and her wrinkled tee and shorts wouldn’t have been appropriate. Not that anything she wore would be appropriate. To her parents’ judgmental eyes, her breezy, tomato-red sundress and sandals would be too casual. But at the moment, she didn’t care. If she had to be here, she was at least going to be comfortable.
Rachel stepped out of the car, and the brick building on the corner caught her eye. There, as big as life, was the abandoned fire station where she’d had the unforgettable encounter that was not only her most embarrassing night, but the one that propelled her to get the hell out of Lakeside.
No need to stop in to see the Colburns quite yet. She crossed the stretch of grass between the two parking lots. The blacktopped space had been big enough for those long fire trucks to pull out, so it’d hold plenty of vehicles. As she walked around the building, she took note of the state of the foundation, the windows, and doors. Someone had obviously been maintaining the property.
She stopped to study the front entrance. The two huge garage doors took up almost the entire front of the building. They’d have to be replaced with windows. They could brick up some of the space, so they could use smaller windows and save on heating and cooling costs. The building would need a new entrance door, too, something distinctive and welcoming.
Rachel picked her way around the building to the rear entrance. When she’d taken the dare that night, Lucy had told her where the key was kept—her dad had been a fireman, maybe still was for all Rachel knew. Without thinking, she got up on her toes and brushed her fingers along the upper edge of the small window beside the back door. She let out a small laugh when she found the key.
She had to face that horrible night head-on, and do it before she saw Beckett Colburn again. Her heart pounded as images and emotions bombarded her. Why did only the bad and embarrassing stuff hang around in your head forever? The good memories of her teenage years seemed to have disappeared like a dream that fades away as soon as you wake up.
The past was over. She was a grown-up and the stupid old memories had no control over her now. This was a job. She was talented and successful, and that’s why she was here in the first place.
She slipped the shiny key into the new lock and it turned smoothly. When she pushed the door open, lights automatically came on, revealing a bright storage room, empty shelves lining the white walls.
Last time she walked through here, it had been full of shadows and an odor that was an odd mixture of fire station and abandonment. Now it smelled of disinfectant and pine cleaner.
She stepped through the swinging door and found herself behind a long, deep bar that looked as though it had been there for fifty years. She dropped the key on the top. The wood was smooth beneath her palm, with scratches and cigarette burns that gave the surface even more character. Of course, a Colburn would use recycled materials.
The rest of the space was high, wide, and open. She smiled with wild anticipation. This was the challenge she’d been looking for. A chance to prove she knew what she was doing beyond charming living rooms, convenient kitchens, and relaxing master suites. A chance to save her show.
The bigger challenge would be working with Beckett Colburn.
She turned toward the open staircase and there it was. The pole. The pole the firemen used to slide down to get to the trucks quickly. She stepped up to it and ran her hand down the smooth metal. It seemed thicker, taller, than in her memories. She glanced up at the hole through the upstairs floor. Had she actually slid down from there?
That hadn’t been part of the dare.
There’d been a rumor that Valerie Green had forgotten her locket upstairs when she went up there to fool around with Brad Washington. And because Rachel had been sure if she’d chosen Truth her friends would have wanted the latest scoop on her crush on …Brad Washington, she’d chosen Dare.
She climbed the stairs now, remembering the way she’d dashed up them that night. In and out, then back to Lucy’s house, had been the plan. The walls of the empty space were painted white now, but the floor was still the old scuffed vinyl. The big sofa that used to be along the back wall was gone.
She’d found the locket that night underneath the sofa and slid it over her head before she took the plunge down the pole. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t even remember, except it had felt like a little burst of freedom.
Rachel sauntered over to the pole now. She leaned forward and grabbed onto it with both hands. Leaning over, she could see the floor below. The notes of “The Stripper” bounced through her brain as it had that night. She’d never done anything like it before, had never rebelled. But it had given her the first taste. Could she still slide down that pole without killing herself?
What the hell.
She’d already taken the leap and wrapped her legs around the pole when she heard the sound of the back door slamming. Gravity took over. She shot down to the first floor and lost all the grace she might have had. When she landed, her knees buckled and her smooth-soled sandals slipped out from under her. She ended up spread-eagled on the floor, her skirt up around her hips, at the feet of the one man she’d never wanted to see again.
She looked up at him and swallowed. “You.” As he stared at her, she realized she should have thought about what she was wearing before she decided to slide down the pole in the first place.
Rachel closed her mouth before the “Whoa” leaked out. Beckett Colburn’s thick brown hair no longer skimmed his collar, and the trimmed beard and broad shoulders screamed man loud and clear. His body had filled out nicely since his lanky youth. He’d obviously come from a jobsite because his jeans were dusty, as was the black Colburn and Sons Salvage T-shirt that hugged his toned upper body. His tanned biceps bulged impressively. And holy shit. Tattoo sleeves, hot and sexy, covered both arms. A colorful dragon coiled sinuously around one muscular arm from his wrist until it disappeared under his shirtsleeve. The ink on the other arm appeared to be mostly tribal or Celtic, with some words, maybe a name, and a picture or two as well. She’d need a closer look. She wanted to stretch out her fingers and trace the designs on his skin, discover what they felt like.
No, she didn’t.
But right now she was sprawled in front of him, her hands still clutching the pole. Before she could begin to scramble to her feet, Beckett crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked down at her with a self-satisfied expression. “Well, look who came crawling back to Lakeside.”
…
Rachel Bradford’s face glowed so red, it almost matched her sundress. Was she embarrassed? Furious? Probably a bit of both. As she began to scramble to her feet, Beck shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t reach down and help her to her feet. She was the stupid one to slide down the pole in the first place.
She tugged her dress down and glared at him.
He’d done his best not to stare at the lacy red underwear she’d revealed, but damn, those were some nice legs she was covering up. He pushed that thought out of his mind. He wasn’t about to admire her body. “Breaking and entering again, princess?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t break in. I never broke in.” Her eyes flashed. “You going to spread lies about me again? You haven’t changed at all.”
It hadn’t been his finest moment. Beck’s frown deepened. “How did you get in?”
“I knew exactly where to find the key.
Same place it was before.”
He should have known. “You’re not welcome here,” he snapped. “Get out, Rachel.”
This time those expressive eyes widened with surprise. “You can’t be kicking me out.”
“Sure I can. I don’t want you here.”
When he noticed the lights were on in the building, he’d thought some kids must have gotten inside. He’d stomped right in and, instead of delinquents, the sight of Rachel Bradford, sprawled at his feet, stopped him in his tracks. He hadn’t remembered how pretty she was, much prettier than on the TV screen, not that it mattered one bit. There was a maturity to her face now that reminded him of how long it had been since he’d seen her. And a buzz of awareness that had no place there.
She frowned, confusion clear on her face. “You made a deal with the network.”
“My brother made the deal. I found out about it only this morning.” This was his place, and he was pissed he was the last one to know.
“A deal’s a deal.” She raised her chin in that country-club-princess expression he’d always hated.
Something in her expression told him there was more going on. “I thought you were never going to set foot in Lakeside again.”
“This wasn’t my idea.” Her deep-blue eyes sparked. “The network thought it would be a great publicity angle to send me back to my hometown.” She paused. “Don’t worry. I’m not staying any longer than I have to.”
She’d already been there too long. “I don’t want to work with you.”
She stared at him for a moment, then turned away. “I don’t want to work with you, either.” She walked the painted concrete floor looking at the walls, the windows. Her flat sandals slapped as she paced. Her hand brushed over the fire pole as she walked by.
For a moment he could see her as she’d been then, in her tiny shorts and tank top, hair up in a ponytail, hanging on the fire pole, her eyes closed, dancing to her own music. Until he’d laughed and broke the spell. She’d been his nemesis, and for that brief moment he’d wished she wasn’t.
The Goodbye Guy (The Men of Lakeside) Page 2
