Page 90 of The Rebel

He laughed.

He actually let that sound leave his lips, and it felt like a rubber band snapping against bare skin.

“Even with the patience of a saint, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with your grumpy ass during the, what, four or five months that we’ll be living here.”

“First, you need to survive the next few months of planning. And that’s before we’ll be living in the same hotel, seeing each other on the jobsite every minute of every goddamn day. We’ll be meeting with the architect and contractor and interior designer, going over every inch of the hotel. Decision after decision.” He looked at me again. “Sounds like hell, doesn’t it.”

He wasn’t asking.

He was letting me know that it would be hell.

“And I’m not fucking grumpy.”

It hurt to fill my lungs, and that wasn’t because of the freezing temperature outside.

“If you’re not grumpy, what are you, then? Because you’re certainly not the sweet, charming, captivating man I met in the bar down the street from here. That man is long gone.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “You just didn’t know me well enough back then. I haven’t changed one fucking bit.”

“I think we both know what’s causing this. I just hope that the more we continue to work together, you’ll learn to drop the attitude because it’ll?—”

“Don’t count on it, Rowan.”

He’d even used my name.

Now, it was my turn to laugh. I was just positive that our reasons for laughing weren’t the same. “Figures.” Although I’d long since released him, I tapped his arm, signaling for him to stop. “We’re here.”

He halted and glanced in both directions. “You dragged me all the way up to the road to show me what? How well they plow in Lake Louise?”

God, he loved to throw digs in every direction.

“No, I brought you here to show you this.” I moved behind him, held both of his muscular arms, and did my best to turn his rock-hard body around to face our piece of land. And even though winter was my enemy and I despised the cold, the snow, my smile was currently at its largest. “Just look at this view.”

“What about it?”

I moved to his side and pointed toward the road. “This is the direction that guests will be coming in from the airport. I also pulled traffic reports, and more than seventy-five percent of the traffic on this road comes from that direction.”

A furrow dug between his brows. “Get to the point, Rowan.”

“The point is”—I raised my hand in the air, flattening my palm and spreading my fingers wide—“if we build the building to the east, like I suggested, anyone coming from that direction—which is the most popular direction—will get to see a view of the water prior to seeing the hotel. Think of it like a tease. The most perfect sliver of paradise—something they don’t currently havesight of due to the number of buildings that hug the lake. But if we go with my idea, they’ll get that tease, and it’ll be just enough to entice them to want to see more, which they will because the next structure will be our gorgeous hotel.”

“That’s your point?” He shook his head. “It’s weak.”

My hands dropped. “Federico Bodega, the most famous commercial architect in the world?—”

“I know who he is.”

“Then, I’m sure you read his most recent interview, where he discussed his opinion on buildings that are constructed on the water.” I was met with silence. Something that didn’t surprise me, but pleased me immensely. “When asked about his most successful design element, he discussed a property he’d built in Italy that was constructed along the Mediterranean.”

“I know you’re not comparing countries that are nothing alike.”

“And in that interview,” I continued, ignoring him, “he said that out of all the properties he had built over his long tenure, the design he chose for that particular one was the most successful because he teased the water view, just like I want to do here, prior to the building, so the line of sight would be the same as I’m suggesting.”

My hands rose again. “Cooper, I want them to take in the grandness of the lake as the focal point during their drive. And while they do, I want them to envision what it would be like to swim in that water or boat or Jet Ski—whatever their poison is—and then I want them to cast their eyes on the beauty of the hotel. To dream about the fluffiness of the bed and the dark roast they’ll sip in the morning while they sit on their balconies, admiring the color of the water and the magic of the mountains that surround us. I want them to fantasize about our spa and the different cuisines from our restaurants and?—”

“Rowan …”

My hands went to my hips, holding them through my puffy jacket. “If we follow through with your idea, hotel and then lake, they won’t have those same dreams. There’s a chance they won’t even connect our hotel with the view. In fact, they could pair the view with the wrong building, which”—I pointed again, this time to the structure that existed beside us—“is far from dreamy.”

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