Page 79 of Smooth Sailing
There was no doubt it’d be good for her career. And while she’d never admit it to Max, the timing of this opportunity was perfect. The thought of staying, of letting their relationship run its course saddened her. Her past had taught her the same lesson: once men got to know her, they left. Hell, even her father was nearly a stranger. But losing Max would damage her heart. A slow withdrawal will be better, safer. The fall wouldn’t hurt as much when he inevitably walked away.
“When does it start?” she asked.
“After the holidays, in mid-February,” her father said. “But I’m leaving tomorrow to check out the sites, and you’ll need to go with me if you’re interested.”
“Tomorrow! Why would you wait until now to tell me? Do you think I don’t have other projects?”
Her father took a bite of roast, taking his time. After swallowing, he said, “I had to see how the Sterling project went. And you’ll have time. After this trip, you’ll have a few months until it starts.”
She pushed away her plate. Eating was impossible. “And you didn’t consider that I might have other things to do,” she snapped.
He waved a hand. “When we talked a few weeks back, you told me you didn’t have anything big after Sterling. So, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, but—”
“But nothing. This is big. Could be bigger than what even the Sterlings could do for your career.”
She wanted to look at Max, but by doing so again, her dad would return them to the spotlight. And admitting she and Max were more than business partners would take away all credibility in her father’s eyes. Plus, everything her father said was true. Having experience in the home and hospitality sector would be amazing for her career.
“I need to think about it.” She took a sip of her wine.
“Then think about it while in New Orleans. Tell me at the end of the trip,” her father said. “It’s only three days.”
She nodded, her fingers tightening around the smooth glass, fighting to keep her expression neutral. To her left, Max shifted in his chair, drawing her attention. She resisted the urge to look at him, acutely aware of her father’s scrutinizing gaze.
Felix cleared his throat. “Hey, Max, how’d that bid go for the winter festival at that ski resort opening up?”
“The one that’s opening in the next town over?” her mom asked.
Max nodded. “Yup. They want a grand opening party with snow and ice sculptures, live music, and games.”
Grateful for the change in subject, she quickly glanced at Max. Their gazes met briefly, and she saw all the questions he wanted to ask, but she wasn’t ready to answer.
“I think we’ll get it,” he replied. It’ll be something slightly different from our usual projects, but it will be fun.”
Her father leaned forward, interest in his eyes. “What exactly is your role as a landscape architect in this?”
“My role . . .” Max began, then paused, clearly distracted. “Sorry. My role is designing the outdoor spaces for the festival.”
Max reached for his drink, taking a quick sip before continuing. “I’ll design temporary and permanent landscape elements for a winter wonderland setting. This includes planning spaces for ice sculptures, creating a layout for a snow maze, and designing an area for an outdoor ice bar.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “That sounds lovely! But how does landscaping work in winter conditions?”
“We’ll focus on creating spaces that will showcase winter features.” Max rolled his fork between his fingers. He glanced her way, offering a quick smile, a flash of connection she knew better than to trust. “For instance, we’ll incorporate evergreen plantings that look beautiful under snow. The lighting schemes will highlight ice formations and snow-covered areas. But everything will work double-duty in the summer, creating shaded retreats for the hikers.”
Her father nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “And how does this tie into the existing resort architecture?”
The dinner dragged on. She pushed food around her plate, appetite long gone. And when her mom asked if anyone wanted coffee, Paloma seized her chance.
“It’s been a long day, and I still need to take Max home,” she said, rising quickly.
“And possibly pack?” her father asked. “I’m heading out at six in the evening.”
“I’ll call you in the morning,” she replied.
He nodded. “Fine.”
“Thank you for dinner; it was delicious,” Max said, and his too-quick movements told her he was as anxious to get out of there as her.
