Page 61 of American Beauty

The door swings open and I jolt, my heart slamming against my ribs as I snap my head up. Ty stands in the doorway, his presence as commanding as ever.

The dark suit molds to his tall, athletic frame, the sharp cut emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. His crisp white dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to give the impression of effortless confidence—controlled, never careless. Dark hair, styled but not overdone, adds to the easy arrogance he wears so well. And then there are his eyes—icy blue, sharp, assessing, always watching.

Chiseled jaw, the perfect amount of scruff, and a presence that demands attention without him having to say a single word.

What a breathtaking display of arrogance in a suit.

Yeah, he’s good-looking. And it annoys the shit out of me.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.”

He steps inside like he owns the place… which he does.

Frowning, I blink at him. “Trying to reach me?”

I grab my phone from the desk and flip it over. The screen lights up with several missed calls and unread messages from him.

Shit. “Sorry. Guess I got caught up in my work.”

He waves a dismissive hand, letting the door swing shut behind him. “It’s all right. You’re dedicated. I’m okay with that.”

He steps further into the room, his gaze flicking between my laptop screen and the open notebook beside it. “What are you working on?”

“Building a mood board for the guest rooms.” I scroll through my favorites giving him a quick preview. “I like to work in the space I’m designing so I can visualize the end result. Helps with scale and material choices and making sure everything fits the energy of the hotel.”

He moves closer. “And what energy did you decide on?”

“I like your original idea––timeless elegance. A blend of the hotel’s history with modern luxury.” I glance up at him—and realize too late just how close he is.

Our faces are inches apart, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a flicker of heat down my spine. The air between us feels charged, humming with something unspoken. Close enough that if I moved a hair, my nose might brush against the edge of his jaw.

“Like you said… a place people want to come back to.”

Ty’s eyes shift and he stares at my mouth. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

His presence is impossible to ignore when his scent wraps around me.

Our shoulders almost brush, and the heat rolling off him makes the air feel hotter.

I click through the images, shifting the laptop toward him. “So, this is what I’m thinking for the furnishings. Rich upholstery. Warm wood tones. I want it to feel classic but still inviting. Like… tufted leather armchairs in that deep cognac color, with brass nailhead trim. Dark-stained mahogany desks—something with a little bit of carving detail, a nod to the old craftsmanship the hotel was known for. And I’m picturing floor-to-ceiling drapes in deep jewel tones, framing those huge windows so the afternoon light spills through. I want to keepthe old-world charm but polish it up. Think velvet settees with turned legs, clawfoot coffee tables, antique-style sconces throwing off this soft, cozy glow. A mix of heirloom and high-end.”

He nods in approval, his gaze lingering on the screen before shifting to me. “You’re good at this. I can already picture it. But there’s one thing that concerns me.”

I glance up, brows lifting. “Oh?”

His lips twitch into something just shy of a smirk. “It’s easier if I show you.”

He steps back from the desk and gestures toward the bed. “Come here.”

I hesitate for a fraction of a second before standing.

He crosses the room, stopping at the foot of the bed and motioning for me to sit.

I give him a questioning look as I lower myself onto the edge. “Okay?”

“Tell me what’s wrong with this bed.”

I press my palms into the mattress, testing the feel beneath my fingertips. Then I shift my weight and give a small bounce. “It’s too firm to suit me.”

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