Page 68 of Making New Plans

Chloe

Standing in the firelight of the festival, I didn’t feel quite so crazy anymore.

Well, I’d been crazy stressed, crazy tired, crazy busy, and crazy deep in thought the last few days. What with the event and my usual work. And then Hunter dropping that bomb on me at the beach. Just like, “Oh hey, I might be staying longer, and I’ve been having these ideas about the lodge and property strangely similar to the ones you’ve had for years.”

Ka-boom. Mind blown.

I probably hadn’t done a great job of hiding it. The man missed nothing, but I was glad he hadn’t pushed.

Part of my crazy manifested when I started carrying around my hefty “dream” binder, stuffed with my ideas for the lodge that I hadn’t shown anyone. But now I had the strangest urge to show him. Maybe he would like them, understand them. Maybe even talk them over with me?

I’d been carrying around the damn binder in a bag the last couple days, working up the courage to reveal it.

But after he’d derailed my busy mode, gotten me on a bike, and proceeded to melt me into a puddle of arousal on the playground, I’d felt much less crazy. Except maybe where he was concerned.

Then we’d enjoyed Carter’s and Sarah’s show together, snuggled next to each other. And now he was talking and laughing with my friends and, from the looks of it, his friends. He teased Carter about his performance but then offered him a sincere compliment. Owen drew him into a discussion about the books they loved so much. Then Hunter asked Rose about her art and praised the kayaker painting he’d seen at the lodge.

Gina and Dom brought breadsticks for everyone, courtesy of Baciami, their family restaurant. After wolfing a few down, Hunter whispered in my ear that they were much better than any old rolls at my mother’s house. A tiny piece of my heart broke off and floated over to him when he said that then winked at me.

Sarah cajoled everyone into a few rounds of cornhole that got wilder the more we drank from the beer carts. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun in a single evening. My cheeks hurt from all the smiling I was doing.

That, on top of watching him laugh with Carter and Owen as they watched the drunken residents of Tangled River attempt to bike around the square, sealed the deal.

If I were being completely honest with myself, I’d known what I’d wanted to do the second I saw his sketches on the table. I’d just been scared. But the fear, the stress, and the worry had evaporated into the cool night like the bonfires’ smoke on the wind. Sure, I was a little buzzed, but not drunk. I knew, deep, deep down, this was the right decision.

I walked up to Hunter and tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, got a minute?”

His smile and agreement were immediate. Carter gave me a sloppy, knowing wink behind Hunter’s back, and Owen gave me a thumbs up. I shook my head and laughed at them while Hunter and I walked away.

After grabbing my bag from its hidey hole near the stage, I led him over to one of the less crowded bonfires, and we sat on a bench. While I fiddled with the bag, he put his hands on his knees and looked at me expectantly. His eyes were their usual clear, warm caramel.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s destroy the old house.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

I gave him a wry smile. “I figured you’d be happy about that. You’re not the only one who’s gotten good at reading people.” I pulled the binder out of my bag. “I want to remove the structure completely to make room for these.” Giving him one side of the binder, I held open the other and pointed at a few of the pages. “Cabins. Kind of like how you drew them in your sketches.”

His gaze absorbed the random clippings, pictures, and notes I’d assembled over the years. I did my best to let him have a few moments, but the suspense was worse than watching one of Gina’s favorite horror movies.

“What do you think?” I squeaked.

He shuffled through a few more pages, and for a moment, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me. But then he looked up at me with the strangest expression on his face. Like if you put surprise, admiration, and excitement in a paint mixer and then splashed it over his chiseled face.

“This is amazing, Chloe. How long have you been thinking about this?”

My neck was scratchy and hot under my sweater. “Oh, a few years. That binder is the product of many random ideas and many hours perusing magazines, Pinterest, and social media.”

He flipped to a page where I’d laid out a few ideas for the interior of the cabins. “You’ve thought of everything down to the pillowcases and bedspreads.”

I laughed nervously. “Well, yeah. I mean, if you want, we can even monogram each of the pillowcases with the name of the cabin like you did to yours with your initials.”

Hunter smiled. “Checking out my bed, were you?” He chuckled at my guilty expression. “Seriously though, why do you look like you’re ready to jump into the fire? These visions are inspiring and detailed.” He kept flipping through pages. “When I sketched a few cabins, I was just throwing around ideas, but you’ve really thought about this. And I have to tell you, the more I look at these, the more I want to make them come to life.”

“Really?” I breathed, something bright and sparkly fluttering in my chest.

He reached over and gripped one of my hands in his. “Really. You envision that property in a way that generations of my family couldn’t imagine. You see it for what it could be. How it could be better than it is.” He lowered his gaze back into his lap and muttered something under his breath.

Before I could ask him to repeat what he said, a voice interrupted us. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”

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