Page 8 of Second Chance Spring in Paradise

But the thing is, she looks as good in clothes as out of them. Her blonde hair is up in a bun kind of thing on top of her head, like she didn’t spend a lot of time on it, but it looks really pretty.

Rodeo girls like big hair and eyelashes and glittery clothes, but that was never my thing. I've always preferred a dressed-down barrel racer to a gussied-up rodeo queen.

When we get to my office, Tessa and I sit across my desk from each other. Her expression shifts to a look of disgust, and I struggle to figure out why until I realize what she’s looking at: the prize deer head mounted on the wall behind me.

“Did you kill the animal those came from?” She nods toward the antlers.

I nod. “First buck I ever shot. I was thirteen.”

She doesn’t look impressed that I killed a twelve-point buck when I was still a kid. In fact, her lip is curled up like she’s judging me.

She’s definitely a city girl.

Which is unfortunate, because her eyes are maybe the prettiest I’ve ever seen.

Yesterday they were the color of the sky. Today, her black-framed glasses bring out darker shades of blue in them. They remind me of a collie I once had who gave you the feeling, he could see right through you every time he looked at you.

But I don’t say that to Tessa. I know better than to compare a lady to a dog, even if he was the best-lookin’ dog I’ve ever owned. Smarter than a lot of people I know, too.

“So there’s no possibility of buying the property?” she says, and I realize I got a little lost in her eyes. “Is there someone I can talk to about that? Or you can talk to?”

“Georgia Beck owns the Little Copenhagen property now. She inherited it from her grandma a few years back, but she’s been tight-lipped about what she plans to do with it.” I explain. “Obviously you know about the seventy-five-year lease agreement the tenants—including your Aunt—Dee, was it?”

Tessa nods.

“There’s been no sign from Miss Beck that she plans on renewing the leases or selling the cottages.” Feels weird to call someone I’ve known her entire life, the way I have Georgia,Miss.But I don’t want to imply I’ve got any connection to her or any way to know what her plans are.

The whole town is wondering what’s going to happen with the Little Copenhagen, but Zach’s the first person I’ve heard say with any confidence that Georgia’s not planning to sell. That’s got me rethinking my own guesses, since he’s the person who knows her best.

“Are you sure? I mean, do you know her? Could you ask her?” Tessa crosses one leg over the other and leans forward.

“I can check, but if Zach said they’re not for sale, then they’re not for sale. And, honestly, the smart thing for her to do is sell the entire resort and let someone develop it—a parcel that big, in one piece, right on the lake—is worth a lot more than those run-down cottages are.”

I wish I could say something that would bring Tessa’s smile and that glow in her eyes back, but I don’t want to get her hopes up. “Or, she could do the really smart thing and restore the cottages herself and sell them. That’s what my money’s on, given what she does for a living.”

“What do you mean? What’s her job?” Tessa tips her head to the side. Disappointment underlines her curiosity.

I rub my chin, the stubble there scratching my fingers. “She has a YouTube channel and an Instagram page—or whatever you call it—that’s all about restoring old houses. Or something like that.”

I know what Georgia does, but I still can’t figure out how she makes so much money doing it. I’m only three years older than her, but I don’t get how being on social media is a job. But then, people used to ask me how getting bucked off a horse was a job, so I’ve got no moral high ground here.

“Wait.” Tessa straightens, and there’s that light in her eyes again, making me wish she weren’t a city girl. “Are you talking about Georgia Rose?”

“Yeah.” I nod, surprised Tessa knows Georgia. “That’s the name she goes by. You’ve heard of her?”

“Um, yeah.” Tessa blinks fast. “Everyone’s heard of her. She’s the biggest interior designer on Instagram. I follow everything she does.Sheowns the Little Copenhagen?”

“Yeeeep.”

“And you know her? I mean personally, not just online?”

I nod again, gently rocking my chair. Why my chest is puffing with pride at knowing Georgia is beyond me. Even more confusing than Tessa being impressed by that and not by my rack.

And I shouldn’t have thought about the wordrackbecause now I’m thinking about a different kind of rack, and I can’t look Tessa in the eye.

“So, could you talk to her?” She asks, sounding hopeful again. “Tell her I’d really love to buy my aunt’s place?”

I let my eyes drift back to hers, keeping them above her neck. But she's glowing even brighter. I’m so taken in by her eyes that I’m nodding yes before I realize it.

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