He’d never forget, either. A tragedy might have brought him back to Lakeside, but he’d needed those years away to be able to appreciate the life he lived now instead of resenting it. He was tired of apologizing for it.
“I know what I’m doing. I’d appreciate some trust.”
Noah drilled him with his gaze. “They never would have loaned you the money if they didn’t trust you.”
“Maybe.” His phone buzzed with a text, and he glanced at the screen. “Rachel’s waiting in the showroom.” He got to his feet. “I don’t like this whole deal. And I don’t appreciate being treated like a kid.”
Noah slowly rose. “Then don’t act like one.”
Beck turned and left the room before the conversation disintegrated further. He had mixed feelings about seeing Rachel again. Even having time to prepare himself, knowing she was waiting for him, didn’t stop his heart from racing when he saw her again. Racing? What the hell?
It was just because he was pissed she wanted to take over his place. That he was losing control. That his family decided it was okay and Noah didn’t even get why he was upset. But as Davis pointed out, he didn’t have a choice, so he had to make the best of it.
A burst of color drew his attention across the room. Rachel’s short skirt was a patchwork of bright beachy colors, the hem flirting around her thighs. A scarf the color of orange sherbet wound around her neck and covered half of her white sleeveless top. Her shoes were the same color. Bet she didn’t find those in Lakeside.
Rachel was standing in front of the mirror wall—called that because it displayed over a dozen mirrors of different sizes and shapes. They brightened up the space, reflecting light into the room. The mirrors sold quickly, too, so the display was ever-changing.
One of the mirrors reflected Rachel’s face. Wide blue eyes, turned-up nose, pink mouth. When she caught his gaze in the reflection, those eyes widened even further and her lips parted. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d taste. She spun around to face him, and their gazes locked. His body heated. She was the first to blink and look away.
“Ready to get to work?” she asked, putting them solidly into business mode.
He nodded, then glanced around them. This was all business. It couldn’t be anything else. “What do you think of the showroom?”
“Love all the repurposed items. Everything is clever and well done.” Rachel gestured around the room. “Is everything fair game in here if we could use it for the project?”
Project. He couldn’t forget that’s all this was for her, too. He was the only one who really cared about his bar. “Sure.”
“Great. So you’ve decided to work with me?”
He still wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Let’s go over to the station and talk.”
Neither of them said another word until they were alone in the empty building. Beck crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. “If you want to work on my place, you have to be honest with me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean? I haven’t lied to you.”
“Then you’re leaving something out. Why are you so desperate to design my bar?”
“I’m not desperate. This is my job.” She turned her back on him and walked away from the bar.
She was lying. He knew she was.
“You’ve never done a project like this before, have you?”
“I’ve been wanting a challenge like this for a long time.” She looked around the space as if she were seeing all the possibilities. Or was it as if she didn’t even know where to begin?
“I refuse to be your practice project.”
“Trust me. I won’t be practicing.”
“Trust you? That’s a laugh.” He stalked across the floor. “You can march out of here right now. I’ll do it on my own.”
She had the nerve to roll her eyes. “You know you can’t do it all on your own.”
“The hell I can’t.” But deep inside Beck knew he didn’t have the creative ability to design the space in the way it needed, even though he wished he did.
“We have a signed contract,” she reminded him. “The episode is going to happen. I’m sure Noah will find someone else to work with me. Is that what you want?”
Then he’d really lose control. “Maybe it’d be better than someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
She took a step closer. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Then what’s going on? Something forced you back to Lakeside, because I know for a fact you never wanted to come back here.”
“I told you. The network came up with the idea.” She spread her arms and he couldn’t help but notice her smooth, toned biceps. Maybe she actually did the heavy lifting it showed on TV. “I’m not in any position to turn it down.”
He wasn’t going to let a pair of sexy arms distract him. “I knew there was more to this.”
She tossed her head and the blue streak in her blonde hair flirted with him. “Why does there have to be something more? Isn’t that enough?”
“If you want us to work together, you’re going to have to spill.”
“All right.” She glared at him before she carefully placed the tablet she’d been gripping on the bar. “Don’t spread this around, okay?”
He almost blurted out that he would never but then, yeah, that bad decision he made in high school would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. “I won’t.” He laughed out loud. “But what’s the secret? Your ratings have fallen and this is a last ditch effort to save your show?”
Her eyes grew wide and his stomach sank. He’d been joking. He thought her show was wildly popular. “Rachel?”
“Okay, so my ratings have fallen. A little. We need to generate some buzz.” She waved her hands around. Her fingernails were painted the same color as the streak in her hair. “So I’m going back to my roots.”
“Should’ve known it’d be something like that.” He shook his head. He would not feel sorry for her. “So your show’s slipping. That means your design skills are slipping as well?”
“No! I’ve been trying to persuade my producer to change things up, choose new and exciting projects, and that’s what this place can be. Will be. New. Exciting.”
Beck gritted his teeth. What was the alternative? There was no alternative. There was a signed contract. Noah could give her free rein over his bar if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to give in. Not to Rachel Bradford of all people. “I’m not convinced.”
“What’s there to think about? If we work together, we can both get what we want. You’ll get a kick-ass design and I’ll get a kick-ass show.”
This was more than a design project. It was a reality show, full of drama. No doubt much manufactured drama. There would be cameras in his face. In his family’s faces. And he hated it.
She walked around the space, studied it some more. He’d love to know what she saw with her designer’s eye. He imagined this bar full of patrons, friends and strangers alike; that’s what was important. This had been his dream since he’d lucked into the job at a corner bar in Georgia almost twenty years ago. He’d gotten more experience bartending in Florida and then managing in North Carolina. It had been harder than he’d thought to bide his time at Colburn and Sons since he came back home, waiting for the right moment. But he wasn’t going to let a hotshot reality TV star grasping for a ratings boost screw up his plans.
“Can you handle something so different?”
“Just because I haven’t had a design project like this on my show doesn’t mean I’ve never designed commercial space.”
“You’ve never designed my commercial space.”
“Are you always such a hardhead?”
“Must be something to do with working in a junkyard all my life.” He couldn’t resist throwing her words back in her face.
Her ey
es flashed. “You are still a jerk.”
Was it crazy to think she looked hot when she was angry? How could he be attracted to someone he hated?
“Listen, can we try to get along?” Her tone softened. “At least until this project’s over? Neither one of us is happy about it, so let’s be grown-ups and deal with it. It’ll be over soon.”
He still didn’t like her, but she was right. “You have any pictures of your commercial designs?”
“Sure.” She headed back to her tablet on the bar. She swiped the screen and pulled up a file folder, then handed him the tablet. “Be my guest.”
The first few pictures were of a coffee shop with bright yellow walls and splashes of brown, the color of rich coffee beans. Brightly colored mugs were displayed on open shelving next to the counter. He narrowed his eyes. The place looked familiar. “Wait a minute. Is that…”
“The Coffee Mug? Yep. Sue and Lisa hired me to design the shop.” She shrugged. “I needed it for my portfolio.”
“But you didn’t come back to Lakeside.” At least, that’s what he’d always heard.
“I don’t always have to see a project in person to do my job. Of course, it’s necessary for the show, but with pictures and measurements, I can do anything.”
“Huh.” He swiped through the rest of the photos. There were pictures of cafés and dress shops and hair salons. “No bars?”
“I have the skills, Beckett.” She took back the tablet. “So the basics. Who will your customers be? What kind of atmosphere are you looking for? I’ll come up with ideas to show you before we go any further. Then you can make up your mind.”
She’d come up with ideas. For his place. Just because she had some fancy design degree didn’t mean she knew anything. He was the one who spent years inside actual bars. He knew what a bar should look like. What it should feel like.
Beck crossed his arms and rested his hip on the corner of the bar. There she was, all eager again. It irritated the hell out of him and made him want to irritate her right back. “I’ll save you time. I already have ideas. Files full of them. Don’t waste your effort on tulips and butterflies.”
“You saw the Everett episode,” Rachel said with a sigh. “I tried to broaden her mind, but in the end I gave the client what she wanted.”
“Exactly. I’m the client. And I already know what I want.”
“So tell me. Are you planning on a corner bar atmosphere? Sports bar? Biker bar? Irish pub? Are you aiming for the local crowd? Something for the summer residents?”
“I can’t cater only to the tourists, can I? I have to bring in the locals year ’round. But it needs to be different than Bud’s.”
“Bud’s is still open?”
“And doing a great business with his mix of sports bar and family restaurant. I don’t want that for this place.”
Rachel nodded and walked around again, looking up at the twelve-foot ceilings. He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered how her slender throat would feel beneath his lips.
“What are you calling it?”
He blinked. “The Salvage Station.” Why was he worried she might think the name was stupid or crude or low-class? It shouldn’t matter. But it did.
Rachel turned slowly to look at him and sent him her first real smile. “I like it. It’s a perfect mix of your family’s business and the history of the building. That gives me an idea, too.”
He wouldn’t let her see his relief. “Think it’s the same idea as mine?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” she said dryly. But she sent him another smile. He found himself smiling back.
Maybe this could work out after all. Now if only there wasn’t this pesky attraction.
…
For the rest of the morning, they managed to work together measuring out the space, and Rachel took photos for reference. She wanted some time to think about her ideas before presenting them to him, seeing as how prickly he was being. She didn’t want to throw out ideas and have him turn them down before she had the images to back them up. But when she mentioned windows to replace the garage doors, he agreed right away. He turned down her suggestion to close up some of the space, though. He didn’t want to hear about contrasting colors, or using building materials other than brick, or even painting. Rachel had learned long ago to pick her battles, so she gave in. They looked at window options together on her tablet and by lunchtime had agreed on two sturdy multi-paned windows.
First hurdle crossed. They had actually worked together on something without throwing barbs at each other.
Rachel couldn’t help studying him while he was checking out the specs on the windows. He was hotter, more interesting than the cocky eighteen-year-old she remembered. His boyishly cute face had matured with sexy lines that fanned out from his warm brown eyes. His thick dark hair had a few silver threads running through, and his trimmed beard accentuated his strong jaw.
And all those tattoos. Interwoven Celtic knots covered the forearm not wearing the dragon. Her fingers still tingled with the desire to touch them, trace them. There had to be a story behind them. Maybe many stories.
Who was Holly’s mother? What was her name? Did he love her? Was one of those tattoos for her? Was hers one of the stories behind the ink he wore? What kind of drama was in her story? In their story?
Stu would want to know all of this and wouldn’t hesitate to ask the hard questions when he did the interviews. She was curious what Beckett had been doing for the past twenty-two years, but it was too early to ask him out of the blue. He’d be suspicious. She couldn’t forget that she was here to do a job. She had to get him out in public, where pictures would be taken and shared, where questions could be asked and passed off as conversation.
After Rachel placed the window order, Beckett turned to her. “Want to go take a look at the coffee shop for real?”
The offer surprised the hell out of her. He’d played right into her plan. “You want to spend time with me in public?”
Beckett spread his hands. “It’s going to happen sooner or later. I’m sure the news about the filming has spread through town by now. Might as well meet it head on.”
“Do they serve sandwiches there? I’m starving.”
“Are we actually getting along?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.” But she smiled.
Stu would love for them to have a confrontation in public, as long as she was the one who came out on top. But she didn’t want to. They hadn’t fought or called each other names in a couple of hours now. Rachel’s gaze ran up the pole as they walked by it on their way out. It was too early to call what they were doing getting along, but it was a relief at the moment.
At first, stepping into The Coffee Mug was a joy. It had turned out exactly as she’d envisioned. Even better, because she could see it bustling with customers, smell the roasted coffee, and hear the hum of conversation and laughter. This was so much better than some photos sent in an email.
Sue and Lisa had been best friends back in high school. They were still together. Married, her mother had told her in a scandalous whisper, and Rachel was thrilled they were happy together. But Rachel had purposely lost touch with them as soon as she’d finished the design, like she had with everyone else. She hadn’t wanted any more ties to Lakeside. Family was bad enough.
She hadn’t thought about how awkward it would be to see all the people she’d intentionally ignored over the years. They probably hated her. She should never have returned, certainly not come into this shop. She grabbed Beckett’s arm to tell him she had to get out of there, but then Lisa saw her. She squealed and deserted the line of customers to give Rachel a huge hug.
“I heard you were coming. About time.”
Rachel stiffened, then eased herself from Lisa’s embrace. “Yeah. Good to see you.” Everyone in the shop turned to look at her as Lisa excused herself to get back to the r
egister. Rachel recognized a few people but not many. Maybe they were summer residents. She’d been gone so long, she had no idea.
She didn’t belong here. Of course she didn’t. She never had. She hated it here. Hated growing up here. Going to school here.
How was she going to make it through this project?
Beckett placed his hand on the small of her back, and his touch brought her out of her panicky spiral. And had her heart skipping for an entirely different reason.
“Are you okay?”
She stepped away from his touch. She didn’t need to know how much she liked it. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You were kinda frozen there for a minute.”
“Sorry. It’s a little strange. Being back here. Home, but not home.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“You do?” She frowned and looked at him, but they’d reached the counter and placed their orders.
“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” Lisa told them. “Better grab that table in the corner before it’s taken. It’s so good to see you again.”
Rachel followed Beckett over to a tiny table for two under a photo of Sue and Lisa toasting their success with espresso cups. Smiles wide. Living their dream. Rachel couldn’t stop looking at it.
“Hey, have a seat,” Beckett said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just forgot I used to have some good friends here.”
“What are you talking about? You were the most popular girl in school.”
She looked around the room, anywhere but at Beckett. Things weren’t always the way they seemed. Her family was the richest in town. She’d never known if her so-called friends actually liked her or simply wanted to take advantage of the things hanging around with Rachel brought them—like indoor pool parties and shopping sprees in the city. Rachel had purposely left them all behind when she left Lakeside.
What was she doing reminiscing? She was supposed to be stirring up some drama for Stu. For the show. But one glance at Beckett, waiting for her to take a seat at the little table in the corner, and her mind went blank. What had he said a few minutes ago? Some comment she was going to jump him on, but they reached the head of the line.
The Goodbye Guy (The Men of Lakeside) Page 5
