Finding Her Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 2)

by Jen Peters

  He crossed his arms, his body as rigid as hers. “You went behind my back.”

  “I did not!” She stared him down. “I’m the manager, remember? It’s my job to look after the details and do the finish work.”

  He studied her. Her black hair was pulled up in a thick bun. Her face was set. Even her fingernails had gone from their usual blue or purple to an old fashioned pink.

  “What game are you playing? What are you really after here?" He didn’t want to do this dance with her. She had claimed to be honest, after all, and what she let him see had always reinforced that idea. He didn’t want to have that perfect image blasted, but he had to know what was inside that quick mind of hers.

  “What am I playing at? You’re the one keeping secrets, Mr. I’m-Just-The-Attorney. You’re a McCormick yourself!”

  “Keeping secrets is what people do, especially in my line of work. Anyone who lives their life as an open book will get what they deserve.”

  She just looked at him, her eyes finally softening a touch. “And what do you deserve, Mitch?”

  “I deserve to live my life without everyone knowing my business." He strode to the wall and lifted the painting down. “I’ll mourn my grandfather in private, thank you.”

  “I know you miss him, but…” her eyes tracked from him to the painting and back. “Oh Mitch, he’s the one who died. This Alexander McCormick.”

  He nodded.

  “I had a surprise for you, for your grandfather’s memorial. Do you want to see it?”

  “Later.” He didn’t want to see anything right now, didn’t want to stay a moment longer than he had to, didn’t want to admit his heart was breaking. He carried the painting out the door and down to his car, folding the back seats down and carefully sliding it into the trunk. Then he turned back. “I do not want the whole town knowing, Ree.”

  “But why not? What’s wrong with being a McCormick?”

  A sense of loss washed over him once more. Just who was he?

  Was he a man missing the company of a grandfather who loved him? Or was he the heir to a company and a fortune, from whom people would expect many things?

  Was he the attorney whose name made small business owners tremble? Or was he someone else entirely, inheritance and expectations be damned?

  Was he a man in love with a woman who filled his soul? Or was he on his own, destined to wear a mask forever?

  He closed the trunk softly. He took one last look at Ree, slid into the Porsche, and headed back to Portland.

  * * *

  Ree watched Mitch peel out onto the road, not believing what she had just heard. She had known him, worked closely with him for weeks and weeks now, and he had kept who he was a total secret the whole time. How could he?

  She thought back over the times they had shared, the walk up to Warm Springs, the dinners that turned from business to personal, the warmth of his hand in hers, the delicious tingle when they kissed.

  It was all a lie.

  She took off for home, half-running a stop sign, taking a corner too fast. Ease off, Ree, she told herself, but she couldn’t seem to. At home, she yanked clothes off hangers and out of drawers, stuffing them into her suitcase. A box from the attic took her shoes and toiletries and jewelry. She’d had enough. Robin and Chris could handle the wedding tomorrow, and Mitch could find someone else to manage his precious inn. He certainly had the money to throw at whoever he wanted.

  She could find another job. She was almost done with her degree. She had friends in Portland who would let her bunk down as long as she needed.

  She thought of Melanie Xanthe, sleek and sophisticated and everything Mitch would want. Even if Melanie was manipulative, Mitch knew what to expect and how to handle it.

  How naive and gauche Ree must have seemed to him, prattling on about how she wanted to see Barcelona, to live in Paris. He had done all of that and more.

  “Ree, are you—" Her mother’s voice cut off as she entered the room. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m out of here,” Ree snapped. “I’ve had it with secrets and small towns and people looking down their nose at me and—”

  Mom laid a hand on her arm. “Breathe, Ree. Come on, take a deep breath and slow down. And tell me what happened.”

  “It’s Mitch. It turns out … ooh!” She threw a book across the room.

  “Ree!”

  Ree stuck her jaw out, but held her arm back from pitching another. “You know old Mr. McCormick who bought the mansion back? He’s his grandfather! Mitchell Blake is a McCormick, as rich as God and probably just as powerful.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “It is when he doesn’t tell anyone.”

  Her mother’s voice was gentle. “When he doesn’t tell you, you mean.”

  Ree pulled her arm away. “Of course, when he doesn’t tell me. I thought we had something together.”

  “So you’re leaving before you can find out?”

  “No, I’m leaving because I’ve always wanted to leave. The inn and Mitch and you were the reasons I was staying around. But I told you before—I wanted something more than this hick town, and it’s obvious now I was right. I’m sure you can train someone else for the shop.”

  Mom shook her head. “You’re running away, Ree.”

  “I am not running away. I’m running to." Ree slid her iPad into her laptop bag. “Look Mom, you have the flower shop, and you love the greenhouse and breeding plants. You have your passion. Can’t you see that I deserve to find mine? And I can’t do it here?”

  Her mother took a deep breath. “You’re right. I know there’s a whole wide world out there, far more for you than for me. I just think you should be going for the right reasons.”

  Ree glared at her. “You just want me here as cheap labor.”

  Her mother gasped. “I would never…”

  Ree felt herself deflate. “I’m sorry, Mom, I know that. It just came out." Before she knew it, she was wrapped in her mother’s arms.

  “Sweetheart, I want you here because I love you. And yes, I’ve needed you desperately for the last few months. But I have other plans that I can work when you’re ready to go.”

  Ree stayed in the warmth of the hug for a bit longer. Her hip pocket buzzed. “Urmph, Mom? My phone’s ringing.” She untangled herself and answered.

  “What? She said what?" Ree listened intently while Chris explained Mrs. Markov’s latest request. She began to answer, then stopped as her eyes refocused on the open suitcase. “Look, Chris, I’m sure you and Robin can deal with it. Call Mitch if you need any help,” she finished before ending the call.

  She picked up odds and ends, a paperback here, a favorite pen there. She dropped them in the box, tucked them in with her clothes. Her mother stood to the side, watching silently.

  She paused with her favorite purple pen in her hand. Why was she so unsettled? It wasn’t just Mitch—she’d broken up with boyfriends before. And Mrs. Markov wasn’t that difficult to deal with. And if the wedding wasn’t quite the over-the-top success that she had hoped, well, Mitch would deal with that.

  She twirled the pen through her fingers. But Mrs. Markov was that difficult, or at least she could be. The woman was a professional wedding planner, and her take on the wedding would have repercussions for years. Robin and Chris weren’t quite up to handling her or the extra guests she was thrusting on them. Robin would probably go home in tears at the end, and Ree wouldn’t wish that on any friend, let alone her BFF.

  And they were both her friends. Her friends in this town that finally had some possibilities ahead of it. And this was her inn to manage! She had worked hard, and while she didn’t have any money invested, it was almost as much hers as it was Mitch’s.

  She bit down on the pen that had somehow ended up in her mouth.

  “Ree?” her mother asked quizzically.

  “Huh?” She had almost forgotten her mother was in the room. “Oh, it’s just … there are problems with the wedding plans tomorrow, and Chris a
nd Robin need me. And you know what? It’s my inn. Mr. Mitchell Blake, Esquire can go jump in a lake for all I care!”

  Her mother grinned. “Go on, I’ll take care of these,” she said, waving a hand at the disheveled clothes. “You go do what you do best.”

  Ree gave her a quick hug and headed for the front door.

  Ree took the porch steps like a general with orders in hand. “Right,” she said, coming into the dining room. “What exactly did Mrs. Markov say?”

  Robin turned, relief breaking out on her worried face. “I’m so glad you’re here! I couldn’t believe that you’d just leave after all the work you’ve done. And without telling me!”

  Ree hugged her briefly. “Forget that, just tell me the details.”

  Mrs. Markov had called, been very pleasant, but adamant that they find a way to seat 30 extra guests.

  “She’s doing this to test us,” Ree grumbled. “The whole thing is a test.”

  Chris gasped. “What? Why?”

  “Because she’s not just the mother of the bride, she’s a very successful wedding planner,” Robin said.

  Ree took a deep breath. “Right. So we’ve got to pull this off, no matter what it takes. Surely she can’t expect more rooms?”

  Chris shook his head, his earring sparkling in the light. “She didn’t say anything about that. Just 30 more guests for the wedding and the dinner.”

  Ree studied the welcome hall. “We’ve planned all the seating for outside, right? We don’t really have room to set up several more canopies now, not without ruining the look for the wedding itself. What about having some tables on the porch after all?”

  They walked outside. They could put three tables in the side garden, like they had done for the dinners, and the back porch would hold three more.

  “Not enough,” Ree said. She strode back inside and perused the hall again, then moved into the parlor area. “Right,” she said as she nodded. “Two in the side garden—we’ll need someone to string more lights there—three on the back porch, and three more tables in the parlor. That way there aren’t just two or three couples stuck in here by themselves. What do you think?”

  Robin stared at her. “I think you’ve turned into someone I don’t know. But yes, I’ll second all of that.”

  “Third,” Chris said with a grin, raising his hand. “I’ll do the rearranging and decorating in the parlor. It will look as beautiful as outside.”

  Ree looked at him. “Why are you hanging around for all the extra work? Isn’t head waiter enough?”

  Chris grinned. “Guess I just like you guys. Besides, you’re fair, and I figure you’ll pay me even if I wasn’t actually hired for it.”

  Ree just shook her head. “Yes, I’ll pay you, and I’m glad you’re here. Okay, I’ll call for more tables and linens. I may need someone to drive down to Eugene to pick them up. Robin, while Chris is moving furniture, can you run down to Mac’s and get more lights? And then do them on the back porch?”

  Ree left them nodding at her and closed the door to her office. In the small space, she took a deep breath and exhaled. They could do this. She had a good team, and she was committed to them and the McCormick Inn. And the town, her town.

  She called Billy first—would he order the extra ingredients and did he need an assistant? She made more phone calls, lined up the extra supplies, and then called the staffing center for three more waiters. They’d need more centerpieces, too, from the florist down the mountain.

  Pizza delivery gave them a late lunch, and take-out from Ling’s took care of dinner. They worked into the night, setting up the canopies and laying out the floors on the lawn. They accepted deliveries, folded napkins and finished the arbor framework.

  Ree finally let her tired body fall into bed at two a.m., and somehow reached through the gray dawn to hit snooze. Mrs. Markov’s face appeared in her mind again, and she bolted upright, adrenaline waking her better than her alarm had ever done.

  She was showered, dressed in grungy work clothes, and out the door in 30 minutes. Robin was already at the inn, with the coffee pot gurgling. Chris mopped the dew off the wedding seating and the outdoor patio. They quickly set up the tables, working up a sweat in the cool morning air.

  “Need some help?” came Mitch’s voice.

  Ree turned and narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  He pursed his lips. “All hands on deck. No reason to ruin someone’s wedding because of our personal disagreements.”

  Ree huffed. ‘Personal disagreement’ was an understatement. ‘Irreconcilable differences’ was more like it.

  They placed the last tables, hardly looking at each other, then started hauling chairs. She could feel him close to her, her senses on alert even if she wasn’t looking at him. Tablecloths went on, then the centerpieces. Ree flipped from checking the work and checking what Mitch was doing. And if he was checking her too, well, she didn’t care. She didn’t.

  Every time their eyes met, they both looked away. Ree was left fuming as she put the last centerpieces on. How could he just continue working like nothing had changed? Everything had changed. He wasn’t who she thought he was. What did she have in common with someone who was as rich as that? From as powerful a family as that? It hadn’t mattered to her before that McCormick & Associates was a name everyone knew, but for heaven’s sake—he inherited the whole thing!

  But dammit, she wasn’t going to run away. She had worked hard on the inn and even harder to pull this wedding off. These were her friends, this was her town, and Mr. Mitchell Blake would be gone after the inn officially opened.

  Wouldn’t he?

  A delivery van brought more ingredients for Billy’s marvelous talents, and Ree went to help him check it all in. By the time they had finished, all the flatware, crystal glasses, and the folded napkins had completed the table settings. Robin and Chris were down at the arbor with Mrs. Swanson, putting the final touches in the flowers and toile. Mitch stood on the porch like a lord in his castle, arms crossed, feet wide, looking over his grounds.

  He turned at the sound of her footsteps.

  She crossed her own arms.

  “You’ve done a great job,” he said. His soft voice sent a dangerous bolt of awareness through her.

  Ree nodded once at him, then turned to look over it all. Despite the last-minute rush, it was lovely. Twinkly lights and satin bows decorated porch railings, centerpieces were fresh and beautiful, the wedding area was ready to welcome the bride and groom.

  “Thank you,” Ree said stiffly. “It took all of us, including you. I appreciate your help.”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “What do you want? What do you get out of this?”

  Get? What should she get out of doing her job? “A paycheck,” she shot back. “What do you get out of it?"

  He shook his head. “You don’t want anything more than a paycheck?”

  “Okay, I also get a lot of satisfaction, a beautiful inn to run, and a step toward my dream, if you want me to be honest. Is it so wrong to want something else?"

  “Not as long as that’s all you want." His response was so low she could hardly hear it. Or maybe she wasn’t supposed to.

  He checked his watch, a Tag Hauer that would pay her mother’s expenses for several months. Was he taunting her? “The wedding’s in a few hours. You should change and come back—you never know when they’ll arrive.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you can boss me around, remember."

  His eyes looked sad as he walked past her to his Porsche.

  She watched him get in, his mood reaching out and affecting her own. He shouldn’t blame her for his feelings, she thought. He was the one who had been living a lie.

  But he was right—she did need to go change.

  By the time Mitch arrived back at the inn, the parking lot was full, and cars lined the streets. The scent of honeysuckle filled the air as a few guests mingled on the porch, although many were seated alread
y. The minister talked quietly with an older lady. The father of the groom was soothing his nervous son.

  Mitch nodded with satisfaction. Ree and her crew had done an unexpectedly good job, especially considering the last minute doubling of the guests. She was far more capable than the ingenue he’d taken her for at their first meeting.

  He trotted up the stairs and into the welcome hall, decked out in the summer glory of more flowers than he could name. Tiny white lights and some sort of filmy fabric covered the banisters. The parlor, with tables for extra guests, looked inviting. He heard a gaggle of feminine voices from upstairs, where Ree had assigned three guest rooms for the bride’s preparations.

  In the dining room, the tables were pushed close, creating one long buffet. Ree, dressed in a stunning ice-blue dress that took his breath away, nodded coolly but didn’t pause her instructions to their six impromptu waiters. She brushed past him when she was done, and he watched her ascend the stairs to the bride’s rooms, her dress whispering as she went.

  She really was focused on her job. That’s all she ever said she wanted. She wasn’t out to catch a millionaire; she wasn’t all about climbing the power ladder; she wasn’t trying to sneak her claws into him when he wasn’t looking. He just hadn’t seen it clearly until now.

  And the attraction they felt…there really was no hidden agenda behind her, they were just two people falling in love.

  His heart sighed. She was proud and quick to react, but generous and hard-working and understanding. She was easy to talk to, to actually be himself with. He supposed he’d thought he’d never find it.

  He wished his grandfather were still alive. It would please the old man no end to see Mitch soften toward a woman, especially if it were the right woman.

  But while Ree was the one for him, he wasn’t sure she thought he was the one for her. How would he get her past the obstacles of his money and his job? It was obviously a problem, probably at least halfway because of her father. Or if not her father, then simply the fact that Mitch himself was a corporate takeover specialist. Or he used to be.