Page 5 of I Choose You
This woman was absolutely going to come in and fuck up my plans. I could see it already. “I start the demo on the Monday after next,” I gritted out.
“Excellent,” she said cheerfully. “I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk that out. I think we’re going to have a great relationship throughout this project. I look forward to working with you.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. I had to assume she was, although she sounded completely sincere. No one was that nice after they just got laid into and told they weren’t wanted or needed here.
After that call, I felt like I needed a drink. I grabbed my sweatshirt and my keys to head to Harpoon’s Tavern. As a bachelor living on his own, I tended to hit up one of the restaurants in town for dinner most nights. Harpoon’s was a favorite. Relaxed atmosphere. The bar was great for eating alone. And Ronnie, the bartender, was funny and nice in a take-no-shit kind of way. A draft beer and chicken wings were calling my name.
2
Claire
Taylor Swift’s evocative lyrics blasted from the radio as I drove the four and a half hours from western Connecticut to the south coast of Massachusetts. The rainy, gloomy day made the drive longer than it should have been. Grayness blanketed the skies, trying to steal my focus away from the positives. But that was what my girl Taylor was for.
I didn’t want to let myself get lost in the negative, as it would be so easy to do. So what, my parents didn’t like my choices in life. I was a thirty-two-year-old woman. I could make my own choices. So what, my boss basically told me that if I didn’t get this project 100 percent perfect, I would be looking for a new job. That just motivated me to do the best damn job possible. So what, my boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend—cheated and, with our breakup, essentially left me homeless a few weeks ago.
I wasn’t even about to let my mind wander down the road of what was to come. Nothing good, that was for sure. At least being on-site for the restoration project allowed me more time to figure out my living arrangement. Reid Wilderwas going to be a problem though. He was clearly against the idea of a historical preservation designer for the Delano Library renovation. Downright rude about it. If he had that attitude for the duration of the project, it was going to be a long eight months.
But I was all smiles as I drove down the highway, singing to my heart’s content.
My boss, Andrew, had booked my lodging at some place in town. I didn’t have all the details, but according to my GPS, I would be there in eight minutes. Canceling the trip, I pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a diner. It was still daylight, however dreary it was outside, and I had time to go by the library before heading to the hotel. The GPS calculated the directions to the new destination, only five minutes away in a slightly different direction. That was fine. I had plenty of time.
The Delano Library looked like a small castle. Turrets and spires, brick and stone, windows the size of two-story houses. The dark clouds hung low in the sky, creating an eerie feeling in the atmosphere.
It was absolutely stunning.
I slowed my car as I drove past, then circled the block, of which the library took up the entirety. Out front, a couple of pickup trucks were parked. The main doors of the library were open, and there were two men hauling items out of the building. They both looked to be in their forties or fifties, and they must have been working on it all day based on the pile they had built up. Their voices carried over to me, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I was debating about getting out of my car and introducing myself—one of these men had to be Reid—but just as I was hyping myselfup to deal with his presumable attitude, another two men stepped out. I paused to watch them.
Wow. Now, this guy was someone I wouldn’t mind dealing with.
His hair was too long and unkempt, and his shirt was wet and stuck to him, either from sweat or the rain. But his face… his build… even his walk was weirdly hot.
There were shoulder-slapping and handshakes going around. They must be done for the day. Not wanting to delay them, I decided that tomorrow was a new day. I would come back here first thing in the morning and find out which of them was Reid so we could get started.
I plugged the hotel’s address into my GPS again and pulled away.
It was only about five minutes away, but it felt like a completely different world. Where the library was stately and impressive, the “hotel” was definitely not. Why would Andrew book me a room here, of all places? How did he even find this dump?
The parking lot at the Cove’s End was a series of potholes, gravel, and broken asphalt. The building looked like it hadn’t seen a single penny for upkeep in fifty years. I walked into the reception area to check in and was greeted by the smell of mold and a very bored-looking young woman.
“Claire DeLuca. I’m checking in,” I told her. “The reservation might be under the company name, Andrew Hassell Designs.”
“I have you here… oh, wow. Um, is this right? How long is your stay?”
“I didn’t actually make the reservation; my boss did, so I’m not sure what he requested. But I’ll be on a projectin town for the next eight months.”
“Yeah. That’s what it has here. We usually rent by the hour. I’ve never seen an eight-month stay before.” She looked up at me, her eyes holding a glint of amusement. “Good luck,” she added.
That didn’t bode well for me.
I thanked her and took my room key. A physical key, attached to a bright orange plastic key chain. This was no hotel, like Andrew had told me it was. This was a motel. And a run-down, budget motel at that. Did he not think the rate was suspiciously low when he booked it? Well, he probably didn’t research it himself; I was sure Nia, his assistant, was the one who booked it. He would probably laugh about it with me later as we found a more suitable place.
Before leaving the reception area, I turned back to ask the woman about food options. After driving for hours and then doing the detour through town, I was starting to get hungry.
“Well, we have a bar and eatery on-site. Food’s not great, but the drinks are fine. And if you want to go into town, there’s the Downtown Diner. Good for cozy, home-cooked meals, but if you’re eating alone, I would recommend one of the two bars and restaurants in town. Harpoon’s is great, more of a laid-back vibe. Courtside is a sports bar, louder and busier, but good food. Both places have a great bar you can eat at if you don’t want to get a table for one.”
I thanked her again and found my way to my room. It was small, with one full-size bed. That was fine, except the one window by the door was nearly black with grime, and the door itself didn’t close quite right, but at least it had one of those chain locks from the inside. There was no kitchenette, or even a microwave and minifridge, for me to cook somemeals. I had a small food stipend per day, but I’d have to be really frugal if I didn’t want to dip into my own funds on the regular. The bathroom had a stained toilet and an equally stained bathtub. The vanity was so small I would barely be able to fit my toothbrush and mouthwash.
Deep breath in… Okay, that was a bad idea. No deep breathing. Mouth breathing only. Why did it smell like raw potatoes? Ugh.
