“Physically, not bad, but I’m sick to death of being stuck in here. The only time I’ve gotten out was when Connor took me.” She narrowed her gaze. “I imagine you know about that.”
Mick saw no point in denying it. “In fact, it’s one of the reasons I came by,” he admitted. “I thought we could talk about the changes you’d like to see made at the house.”
Her jaw set stubbornly. “It’s not my house. Your son bought it. He can do what he wants with it.”
Mick held back a grin. “Connor seems to think he bought it for you.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Only because he gets these crazy, impulsive ideas in his head and then expects everyone to go along with them.”
“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Mick conceded. He’d been accused of the same flaw often enough—justifiably, if he was being honest about it. “But tell me this, do you love that house as much as he thinks you do?”
The wistful expression on her face would have given her away, even if she hadn’t nodded.
“Do you love Connor?”
“Not the point,” she said, her voice suddenly tight.
Mick grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. So, here’s how I see it. You can refuse to give me any input and the house will get renovated the way Connor or I decide it should be done, or you can participate in the process and get your dream house.”
“And then watch Connor move into it,” she said, sounding resigned.
“Hey, this is my vision, and that’s not what I see,” he contradicted. “I figure the two of you will eventually work out your differences and you’ll be living there together. That’s just a matter of time and some careful negotiations over the terms. Personally, my vote’s for marriage, but I’m not interfering.”
The comment drew a disbelieving chuckle.
Mick continued. “So, as I see it, the only question open for debate is what the house will look like when that happens.”
She looked startled for an instant by his assessment, then laughed. “I see now where Connor got his arrogance.”
“It’s an O’Brien gene, no question about it,” Mick said unapologetically. “So, Heather, what’s it going to be? You going to let my son decide how that house gets fixed up, or are you going to put your stamp on it?”
She hesitated for so long, he thought maybe he’d over-played his hand, but then she reached for a folder on the coffee table. Its proximity suggested she’d been through it recently.
“I do have a few ideas,” she admitted.
Mick chuckled. “I thought you might.”
She held the fat folder tightly before handing it over. “I’ve been stuffing pictures into this folder for years now. I dragged them out after I saw Driftwood Cottage. I’ve already weeded out the ones I don’t think will work, but I’m sure I have more ideas than you’ll ever need.”
“Never hurts to look at everything,” Mick said. “Then we can talk it through and revise it to fit the structure we have to work with.”
“What’s my budget?” she asked, suddenly sounding eager. Her eyes were alight with excitement as well.
“You let Connor worry about that. You just tell me what you want, and he and I will figure out how to make it happen.”
She regarded him with amazement. “Are you like my fairy godfather?” she asked.
Mick nearly choked on a sip of coffee. “Those should probably be fighting words, but I think I get your meaning. No, I’m just a man who wants to see three people I love happy. Getting to be a part of that is an old man’s privilege.”
And it was going to happen. Even the expression on her face when she’d been complaining about Connor buying her house showed how badly she wanted it to be theirs, instead. He was more sure than ever that Heather and his son were destined to be together, if only they’d get out of their own way and let it happen.
* * *
Connor winced when he saw the rough sketches his father had made of the renovations for Driftwood Cottage. “How much is that going to set me back?”
“You have a trust fund,” Mick reminded him. “You’re the only one in the family who hasn’t tapped into it. And I can’t think of a better use for that money I set aside for you.”
“And Heather actually went along with it when you told her what you were up to?”
“I have a whole folder filled with her ideas. It seems she’s been tearing pictures out of magazines for years now. It’s my job to blend them into a cohesive whole.” He met Connor’s gaze. “You know the funny thing? That rickety old house looks a whole lot like what she’d been dreaming about all this time. I think it was fate that took the two of you along that road the other day.”
Connor wasn’t sure how much fate had to do with it. Jess was the one who’d put the notion of a day at the beach into his head. And she’d probably known exactly where he’d go. He wondered if she’d also known about that house being for sale. He’d have to ask her about that one of these days. Her sneakiness quotient was a match for anyone else’s in the family.
“Do you really think you can turn that old place into something livable?” he asked his father.
“Against a lot of odds, I built a town, didn’t I? One little house renovation isn’t going to defeat me.” He gave Connor a sly look. “Just so you know, I’m taking Heather along with me tomorrow around ten o’clock, so we can nail down a few of her ideas. I doubt she’d object if
