Page 36 of Her Ex's Father
Cameron is one of my property managers, sharp enough to handle two locations in Colorado and one in Salt Lake City, but green enough that he insists on face-to-face updates. He arrives in a tailored suit, briefcase in hand, and launches into a report before we’ve even left the foyer.
“Mr. Bronson, thanks for making time. We’ve run into an issue with the Aspen ballroom renovations—the contractors are demanding?—”
He stops. His eyes flick past me.
Maddie has appeared at the top of the staircase, barefoot, wearing jeans and a soft sweater that slides off one shoulder. She looks curious, not at all self-conscious.
“Ben?” she asks lightly. “Do we have company?”
The wordwetwists in my chest. How does this all come so easily to her? Guilt grinds at me like a stone in my shoe; why can’t I just accept that she’s part of my life? Even if it’s only temporary?
Cameron blinks. “I… forgive me. Is this?—?”
“My wife,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “Madeline.”
His brows shoot up. The calculation in his eyes is instant: he’s just realized exactly what the gossip columns have been circling.
The truth.
Maddie pads down the stairs and offers her hand, smiling like she was born to defuse tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Cameron. Do you manage the Aspen property?”
He clears his throat, shaking her hand. “I do, yes. As well as Boulder and Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“Lovely,” she says, her smile brightening. “I’ve always admired Boulder in particular. Didn’t you do a complete redesign of the terrace a few years ago? The floral wall during spring looked incredible.”
I watch Cameron’s ears redden as he stammers out thanks.
We move into my study, but Maddie doesn’t retreat. She follows and curls into one of the leather chairs by the fire, listening as Cameron explains the problem: contractors demanding more time, a wedding party threatening to pull their booking, press sniffing around for scandal.
“Nightmare,” Cameron finally ends with, exhaustion and stress lining his face.
Maddie tilts her head. “Why not host the rehearsal dinner in one of the smaller dining rooms? Dress it up as exclusive, intimate, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Offer them a tasting menu with pairings from Crown & Range. Most brides care more about atmosphere and story than square footage.”
Silence.
Cameron blinks at her like she’s sprouted wings. “That… might actually work. That’s brilliant.”
I’m still staring at her.
She shrugs, almost sheepish. “Event planning is what I did back home. Old habits.”
Cameron is grinning now, already jotting notes. “Mr. Bronson, with your permission, I’d like to pitch that to the client immediately.”
I clear my throat. “Do it.” Rupert Clarke is an idiot. He obviously doesn’t know what he lost, tossing Maddie into a marriage contract like nothing more than a bargaining chip.
Maddie glances at me, something proud and shy flickering in her eyes. And for once, instead of pushing it down, I let myself feel it.
She isn’t just beautiful. She’s capable, intelligent. She doesn’t even realize how easily she commanded the moment, or how easily that solution came to her. What it comes down to is, she’s a natural.
When Cameron leaves, still buzzing, I find myself standing at the window, hands shoved in my pockets, staring out at the pines but seeing only her—feeling her in the room with me. I want to turn, pull her into my arms, and kiss her until neither of us can breathe. I want to tell her she’s brilliant.
Somehow, that feels more like stepping over a line than the day in the woods did.
“You saved me a contract,” I say without turning.
She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “You don’t have to thank me.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice, because Ihaven’tthanked her.
“I do.” I turn finally, meeting her gaze and the small smile playing on her lips. Even from here I can see the freckles sprinkled across her nose. “I was expecting you to say hello and go about your day. You didn’t have to step in and offer advice; but you did, and you were right. You’re… good at this.”
