Page 73 of Making New Plans

As she took off the hard hat, goggles, and gloves, I tried my hardest not to let my traitorous eyes follow the trickle of sweat that started at her collarbone and disappeared into the V of her shirt. She handed everything to me along with the sledgehammer.

Her lips lifted in a coaxing smile. “Thanks for my second workout today.”

I nodded, feeling like an ass, but too full of my own alarming thoughts to force a word out. She sighed and walked out after saying goodbye to Carter and Owen. Like a shameful addict, I couldn’t help watching her go, despite the turmoil she left me in.

Carter and Owen didn’t seem to notice my change in my mood. Or, if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. We continued for a few more hours, knocking down what we could. Carter played some country music over his Bluetooth speaker, and I half-heartedly teased him about it.

But most conversation proved difficult while swinging a sledgehammer, which I greatly appreciated. My mind was burning rubber trying to solve every problem at once. I probably shouldn’t have even been allowed to wield a sledgehammer, but no accidents occurred.

Owen left first, saying he should head back to the Twisted Oak for closing, having left a teenaged employee in charge. Carter stuck around a bit longer to offer his help with cost, labor, and material estimates. I assured him we could hammer out the details later. He guffawed at my unintentional pun then peeled out of the driveway.

Which left me standing under the solitary light outside the lodge, thinking of the best way to go in, where I wouldn’t have to walk past Chloe. But every attainable entrance had me walking right past the front desk. Maybe she would be busy with something elsewhere. I could only hope that one of the guests, perhaps the hungover Dodriges, would keep her busy.

I slipped through the delivery door in the kitchen. Mable and George were long gone, all food prepped and covered for the next morning. Peering through the window in the door, I didn’t see Chloe at the front desk, so I held my breath and eased through the swinging door as quietly as possible.

I had one foot on the bottom of the stairs when I heard her voice behind me.

“Hunter?”

Unfairly cursing the Dodriges, I turned to see Chloe standing a few feet away, her gaze worried.

“Something wrong?” I asked, knowing full well what it was.

She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “You just seem off. Is everything okay? Did something happen at the house?”

Yes. “No. I’m tired. And I need to shower.” I punctuated the statement by walking backward up a step.

“Right. Of course. But if you want to talk about anything—”

“I said I’m fine,” I interrupted her. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but my resolve was fracturing in every direction, and I needed to regroup. Re-affirm. Rethink. And I couldn’t do that with her beguiling blue eyes staring at me. Her pursed pink lips my skin would never forget. Her hands on those hips that I wanted against my body.

I shut my eyes and turned away from her, fumbling up a few more stairs before realizing I could open my eyes now that I wasn’t looking at her. I heard her call my name once, softly, but now that I was fleeing, I couldn’t stop.

Feeling like a world-class idiot and coward rolled into one unappealing package, I locked myself in my room. But evidence of my obsession with a resurrected Pine Grove born from Chloe’s ideas mocked me from every corner of my room.

Stumbling blindly into the bathroom, I shucked my dirty clothes and hid in the shower. Thankfully, I hadn’t been crazy enough to pin anything up in here. I scrubbed the dirt and grime from my body like I was trying to scrub my mind. I ended up washing my hair three times before I remembered that I’d already done it. Now cursing myself and feeling like I was about to vibrate into a thousand pieces from the indecision wracking my brain, I shut off the water.

As I was toweling myself dry, a very loud, determined knock echoed through my room door.

26

Hunter

Dropping the towel, I skipped underwear and dug through my closet for some sweatpants. The knock came again.

“Give me a second!” I roared.

After I yanked on a pair of sweatpants, I stomped to the door, unlocked it, and hauled it open. “What?” I snarled.

Fiery blue eyes glared at me. “I thought we were past all this,” Chloe snarled. “You running. Having conversations without me. Leaving me to guess what you’re thinking.”

I ran my hand through my damp hair. “And I seem to remember telling you that you can’t have everything you want. This would be one of those times.”

“Bullshit.” Chloe shoved past me into my room. “We’re having this out now because I refuse to believe—” She paused mid-rant, open-mouthed, as she gazed around my room at her ideas on display with my additional sketches.

I shut the door and leaned back against it, arms crossed over my bare chest.

For a minute, she was speechless. And that’s all it took for my anger to burn out, something else smoldering in its ashes.

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