“Rachel?”
She blinked. Beckett had placed his laptop on the coffee table and flipped open the top. She had to get her head in the game. Being here in Lakeside, here with Beckett Colburn of all people, was screwing with her concentration. She set her tablet down and then glanced at him. “You want to go first?”
“Sure.” He clicked on a Pinterest folder and handed the computer to Rachel. “I know I’m not trained in the best ways to put these images together, but these bar interiors are the closest to the picture in my head.”
Rachel studied them. There were a ton of images. Rich, heavy wood covering the walls, floors, ceilings. Old fire helmets as decoration. Dim lighting. She could see what he was going for but… “Hmm.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“The fire helmets would make a great focal point for one of the walls.” She’d have to search for a source for them.
“That’s it? I spent hours and hours and that’s all you liked?”
She didn’t blame him for being frustrated, but she had to challenge his vision. “I see what you’re going for, but it needs to be brighter.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you turn my place into a dance club or something.”
She almost threw her hands up in the air, but she struggled to stay professional. “I never said anything about flashing lights or a dance floor. But these images are all really dark.”
Beckett huffed. “We’ll put in lights.” He started swiping through the images and stopped on an image of a fixture with a large white globe hanging from a downrod. “See, like this one,” he went on. “You can hang it alone as a pendant, like in a row over the bar, or group a bunch together when you need more light.”
He had pages and pages of images. Beckett had definitely put a lot of thought into it. But… “The frosted globe isn’t going to give you as much light as you think, and it’s really not the look you’re going for.”
He leaned forward, his jaw tense, and for one crazy moment she wanted to stroke his face to calm him down. “I know the look I’m going for.”
She kept her voice low and slow. “But it’s my job to know what works and what doesn’t.”
“I thought your job was to take what I want and make it work.”
Stu would be in his glory if they were being filmed right now. “No. My job is to show you what you want.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” He drove his fingers through his thick hair. “I’ve spent months on this, and you waltz in and in one day think you know what I want?”
She could see where he was coming from. He thought she was saying he’d wasted his time, all that time he didn’t have, time he’d carved out of spare moments between salvage and bar and Holly. “When I come up with a design, I take everything into account. The space, the function, location, and history, as well as the owner’s ideas. If you’d let me show you what I mean—”
“I like the dark wood, it’s warm. I want my customers to be comfortable. Work with that.”
“Do you want your customers snoozing in the corners?”
He sank back onto the sofa. “What? No. I want it to be someplace they’ll look forward to coming to and relaxing. Something wrong with that?”
Rachel shook her head but couldn’t stop the corner of her mouth from lifting.
“What?”
“How much the wild guy has changed. Look at you, thinking of comfort instead of fun. Opening a place where Grandpa and his cronies can sit at a back table, each nursing their one beer for the night.”
“What? No.” He jumped to his feet again and this time started pacing. “I’m thinking neighborhood pub. I want customers to hang around and keep buying more drinks.”
“I assume the bar where you got your experience had dark wood and dim lighting?”
“All three of them, yeah.”
He’d worked in three bars? Okay. “I can understand you being comfortable with what you’re used to. But if you want to appeal to as many people as possible, including the summer crowd, I think you’re going to want something a bit more bright and exciting.”
“So you’re back to a club atmosphere. No.”
If he’d just stop being stubborn for one moment. “Would you get the club idea out of your head? I’m talking industrial.”
“No.”
All his reactions were too quick. He hadn’t even taken time to consider her suggestions. “You haven’t seen my ideas yet. I think you might be surprised.”
His jaw was still tight, but he sat back beside her.
She unlocked the screen on her tablet and handed it to him. He swiped quickly through all the pictures of brighter interiors. She knew the exposed ductwork and piping would fit right in with the high ceilings in the former fire station. She’d collected some ideas for unique barstools and pendants fashioned from industrial lighting. He probably wouldn’t care for bold color schemes, but she’d included a few examples anyway. She loved color, after all.
He set the tablet gently on the table. “That’s…um…that’s a lot of work.”
She shrugged, grateful he’d calmed down.
“How did you have time for all that?”
“I’ve been doing this for a long time now.” He studied her for a moment but didn’t say anything. “I told you. I’m good at what I do.”
His lips lifted for a moment, but then he frowned again. “Everything’s still too bright.”
“Think of it as energizing. And it’s not that bright except in contrast to your pictures.” She bumped shoulders with him. “And completely different from the cozy atmosphere at Bud’s.”
“Cozy? No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He grabbed his laptop and swiped to another image, then shoved it in her hands. Dark wood covered the floors, the walls, the ceiling. “Look at this. Rich and warm. Welcoming. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s lovely, but it’s wrong for this space for a couple of reasons.”
Beckett crossed his totally tattooed arms across his chest and waited. She was really glad they weren’t being filmed, because she couldn’t take her eyes off him for a long, hot moment. Then he raised a brow and she pulled herself together.
Rachel cleared her throat. “We agreed you want something completely different from Bud’s, remember? And even his place is brighter than the bar in this picture.”
Beckett huffed but didn’t say anything.
“And you want to make a statement. Something new and different to bring people in and keep them coming back. Right?”
“Yeah, but…” Beckett shook his head, and Rachel knew he still wasn’t sold. “These images are all still too cold. I don’t like all the industrial features. I don’t want it to look like a club in a loft somewhere.”
“I told you, it won’t look like a club.” She inched closer to him so their thighs were pressed against each other. She had to make a connection with him. He had to listen. But his tattooed arm rubbed against hers and she fought not to stare at the ink. His bare knee rubbed against her slacks, warm and hard. She’d noticed earlier he had no ink on his legs, at least not below the hem of his shorts. She shouldn’t be focused on the trim beard that made her wonder what it would feel like against her cheek. Her gaze met his dark brown eyes and they stared at each other for a moment until she realized he was waiting for her to continue. She cleared her throat.
“Your family salvages industrial items for a living. You repurpose them into amazing light fixtures and furniture. You’re already using a salvaged bar, right? And flooring? Let’s feature as many salvaged items as possible at The Salvage Station. You chose that name for a reason.”
Beckett didn’t knock down her suggestion immediately. She could tell he was at least thinking about it now, so she hurried on.
“If we leave the high ceilings, the ductwork and piping will fit right in. The pol
e will look like it belongs, too.” She grinned. “We’ll get a gate with some cool scrollwork to block off the stairs so forty-year-old women don’t try to recapture their youth.”
He sent her almost a full smile that time. “I guess I can see that.”
“You’ll still have rich wood with the bar and the flooring. Maybe for the shelves behind the bar, unless you want glass.” Beck started to reply but she held up her hand to stop him. “We can debate that on-camera. I’m okay either way, so it’ll be fun to film an argument.”
Beck sent her a skeptical look but didn’t refuse. Which was good because Stu would insist on it.
“We’ll scour your showroom and I assume you have stuff in storage, too?” Beckett frowned, then nodded. “Awesome. I can’t wait to dig through it all. Stu’ll want to record us going through it later, but we can already have made our choices before then.”
“I still don’t get it. Why do we have to go through it twice?”
They’d be going over some things way more than twice, but there was no need to tell him that yet. And there was no point mentioning there would be things they wouldn’t talk about until the reveal. “We could spend hours going through everything, and they don’t need to record all that.” Beckett frowned, so she went on. “Just the important stuff. Most of the footage won’t make the cut as it is. That’s why they have to follow us around. They never know what will be the perfect nugget to put on the air. And don’t forget they need to include all the look-at-Rachel-back-in-her-hometown stuff, too.”
“This is so far out from what my life is, you can’t imagine.”
She took a deep breath and stood up. He did, too. “So do I have your okay to use the industrial theme to come up with a complete design for The Salvage Station?” She held out her hand to shake and seal the deal.
He slid his hand, strong and rough and warm, into hers. But he didn’t release her hand as he asked, “What if I don’t like it then?”
He still didn’t trust her. It bothered her more than she thought it would. “I’ll show you the finished proposal and if there’s something you feel strongly about, I’ll see how I can accommodate you. But after that, I have to begin to place orders for what we can’t find next door.”
Beckett squeezed her hand and then let it drop. “So that’s it then?” he asked. “Or do we have to argue for the camera about more than the shelves for the liquor?” His lips twisted. “For the entertainment value?”
“It’s part of the whole thing. I’m sure there’ll be other details we disagree on. Or we can recreate an argument we’ve already had for the camera.” Drama. More drama. “You could even accuse me again of wanting to turn your bar into a dance club.”
“Negotiating with you wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Beckett admitted, his voice a little lower, a little slower than it had been a moment ago.
She wasn’t crazy about the tingles that rained over her skin. Or how much she liked them.
…
Beck was still pissed that Rachel blew off all the hours of work he’d put into the look for his bar, but he’d started to see what she was talking about. He took a step closer to Rachel. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “If they do film us arguing, will they have the camera on us when we make up?” Would they kiss and make up?
“Maybe.” She nibbled on her lower lip and he almost leaned in for a kiss. He wanted to taste her. So much. He should have backed away, but his feet wouldn’t move.
“We’re both pretty stubborn,” she added, “so I wouldn’t be surprised if we still argue a lot. Probably on camera and off.”
He tilted his body toward her because there was no way he could stop the lean. “So that means we’ll be making up a lot, too.” Make-up sex flashed like a neon sign in his brain before he caught himself. What the hell, Colburn?
Her gaze swept over him, and he could feel the heat. They’d moved even closer together with each word spoken. There wasn’t more than a breath between them now.
Rachel’s phone chirped and they jumped apart. She frowned when she glanced at the screen. She turned her back to Beck as she answered. Whoever called her did most of the talking. She murmured a few “okays” before she disconnected the call and turned back to him.
She took a deep breath. “That was my producer. They’ll be here on Monday.”
And it was Thursday night. Shit. This was really going to happen. Thoughts of sexy banter and make-up sex vanished, and all he could think about were cameras in his face, in his life. “I want to get my place up and running, but we’re going to be invaded by cameras, and I can’t get excited about that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the interviews will be fun.”
“What interviews?”
“I told you they’d be talking to everyone as part of the whole returning-to-my-roots theme. They’re going to be filming all over Lakeside. They got the okay from your brother, Noah.”
Of course. The mayor.
“Dad!” Holly called out. She ran down the hall, then slid into the living room in her striped socks like she was on a skateboard. “I’m all done.” She turned to Rachel. “I’m so glad you’re still here. When do all your friends come, with the cameras and everything? I can’t wait to see it all.”
Beck’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t going to let her be exposed to cameras, to any of Rachel’s very public life. “Hey, sweetie. I’ve been thinking you could go to Hershey Park with Emmie after all.”
Holly’s eyes grew wide. “That would be so awesome!” She started bouncing on her toes. “What made you change your mind?”
His gaze flicked to Rachel before he answered. “I realized how busy I’m going to be with all this renovation stuff. It won’t be fair to you or your grandma if I can’t be here for you.”
“But if I go with Emmie, I won’t be able to watch Rachel and the cameras and everything.”
That was the idea. “Let me call Davis and see if they still have room for you first.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Sweetie, keep Rachel company for a few minutes. Be right back.”
Beck closed the door to his bedroom so Holly couldn’t eavesdrop. Davis answered on the first ring. “How’s it going with the pretty designer?”
He didn’t even know how to answer that. “Would Holly still be welcome to go to Hershey with you guys?”
“Yeah. Emmie would be thrilled. What’s going on? You want her out of the way so you can get some of that Rachel Touch up close and personal?”
“What? No.” But his body hardened at the thought. “Rachel mentioned that they’re going to be interviewing friends and family on camera for this thing. I don’t want Holly anywhere around.”
“We’ll be gone for two weeks. Will that be enough time?”
“It’ll have to be.”
“Okay. Tell her we’ll be leaving tomorrow night. We can finalize things in the morning.”
“See you then. Thanks.”
Holly was still bouncing with excitement when Beck returned to the living room. “What did he say?”
“Of course, you’re still welcome. You’ll be driving tomorrow night so you’ll arrive the next morning.”
“I better start packing.” Holly threw her arms around Rachel. “It was so nice to meet you. I hope you’ll still be here when I get back.”
“There’s a good chance I will be.”
Really?
It was his turn to get the Holly-hug next and then she was gone. Mocha barked and chased her down the hall. He could already hear Holly’s drawers opening and closing in her bedroom.
Now that Davis had put it out there—that he and Rachel would be working together without Holly—two weeks was screaming in his brain. It had no business being in his brain. He kept telling himself he didn’t even like Rachel, though he was beginning to realize that was a lie. He’d despised the teenage Rachel, but he li
ked the grown-up version very much. And he was definitely attracted to her.
Rachel picked up her tablet from the coffee table and clutched it to her chest like a shield. “She sure has a lot of energy.”
“I wish I could absorb some of it.” He stood on the other side of the table and took a step in her direction.
“Me, too.” Rachel took a step closer. “I’ll be spending most of the next day or two working up the final plan and the budget.”
He moved nearer, his gaze locked on hers. “You’ll show me the plan before you show it to my dad, right?”
She took a step toward him. “Sure. No problem.”
One more step. “Let me know when it’s ready.”
Another slow step. “Okay.”
They were only inches apart now. Beck reached out and brushed his fingers over the bright blue streak. “I didn’t think it’d be as soft as the rest of your hair.”
“Oh.” Her eyes sparkled. She reached out and ran her fingers along the dragon tattoo that wound around his forearm. “I didn’t think it would be as smooth as the rest of your skin.”
The Rachel touch. Shivers danced along his skin from the way her fingers swept along his arm. What would it be like if they were naked, skin to skin from head to toe? His body reacted immediately, wanting to find out.
He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. She sighed and grasped his arm where she’d been stroking. He caught her around the waist with his other arm and captured her mouth with a hungry kiss. She opened to him and they devoured each other. Aware of Holly down the hall, the moans and gasps were soft.
What were they doing? Beck was shaking when he slowly drew his mouth away. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
When his breathing had slowed enough that he could speak, he whispered, “That wasn’t a good idea.”
“No…um…no, it wasn’t.” She nipped his bottom lip before stepping away and putting space between them. She was shaking, too. “It was awfully nice, though.”
The Goodbye Guy (The Men of Lakeside) Page 8
