loose.
“Well?” Dan prodded. “You gonna tell me what’s got your designer knickers all knotted up or not?”
“They’re Levi’s,” Brett said, trying harder not to get exasperated. He and Dan had their moments, but this was a snide side he’d never heard. “So, I found an old log cabin, up in the hills on a ride today. Falling down, abandoned, lot totally overgrown. Then, on the way down, I passed by an old farmhouse, barn, silo. Beautiful creek running through the property, wide open spaces. Looks like it’s been empty for some time now, too.”
“Fascinating. What has this got to do with us?”
“It got me to thinking, with the resort newly opened, over time, there will be a need for vacation housing, time-shares, as well as full-time homes for people who are drawn into the growing development, that kind of thing.”
“You mean the kind of thing we already have in Vegas?”
“I don’t want to build tract housing. Even ridiculously over-the-top Liberace mansion tract housing. I’m talking smaller, intimate, one-of-a-kind places, unique in structure and suited to the landscape here, both mountain and valley.” He leaned forward, excited now that he’d finally gotten to tell someone. Saying it out loud wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he’d thought it would be. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was really going to do this. It had already grabbed his heart. “I want to work with what’s already here, as well as build new.”
“And you think I should take the company that my dad spent his lifetime building, that I inherited, and what, chuck it? Sell it? Move east? Holy hell, Brett, what has this chick done to your brain?” He made a little crazy motion next to his head with the beer bottle. “No, seriously, are you even listening to yourself? I’m asking you to come home-home, bro-and work side-by-side with me, and you turn me down flat. Now you have the nerve to invite me to what…work for you? Are you fucking serious?” He downed the beer in one swig and stood, albeit a bit unsteadily. “I’m going to bed. Frankly, I don’t care what the hell you do. But as of this moment, I think it’s safe to say you can officially leave me out of it. Thanks for nothing.” And with that, he tossed the empty beer bottle in the general vicinity of the kitchen, where it bounced from counter to floor-thankfully not shattering-before stalking off to the master bedroom and kicking the double doors shut behind him.
Brett sat, perfectly still, on the couch opposite where Dan had just been sitting, wondering what in the hell had happened to his best friend since he’d left Vegas. That was not the Dan he knew and loved. Granted, maybe he should have thought through his presentation a little bit better, given the status of their relationship when he’d shown up this evening. Hell, he hadn’t even been thinking of Dan when the idea had hatched in his head. He’d been thinking of Kirby, and partnering her into the business using her excellent interior design skills. What she’d done with the inn, the personal touches, the local flourishes, the natural warmth she’d created…that’s how he pictured these places.
He’d design and do the reno, she’d design and decorate the interior, then they’d sell it and move on to the next project. His biggest concern was whether she’d want to take on something like that while running the inn, but he figured his busy season would be her slow season, so perhaps it would be the perfect partnership. He’d help her out in the winter with the inn and guests; she’d jump in with him in the spring and summer.
He hadn’t really thought about Dan, or bringing him in, until just about thirty minutes ago. The truth of it was, he really wanted a fresh start, and he wanted to share this new adventure with Kirby. He wanted a break from his past. Not to abandon it, but to move forward. He’d always love Dan, Vanetta, and the rest of the friends he’d made back in Nevada.
But here…this was where he wanted to be now. And he’d meant what he’d started to say, he hadn’t thought about it, but now that he was, yes, he’d take Dan on, too, form some kind of partnership. If Dan were remotely acting like Dan, anyway. They would make a good team in this endeavor. Dan’s strengths were in building solid structures with solid craftsmanship. Brett could design and help with construction, but Dan would make the perfect site manager and project foreman.
He acknowledged that his offer had been seen as an insult, and he even got where Dan was coming from. He’d been clumsy, at best, thoughtless at worst, in presenting it to him as he had. He didn’t know what to tell Dan about his dad’s company, or where he should go. Maybe Dan needed a fresh start, too. Though good luck convincing his deeply entrenched, routine-loving best friend of that possibility.
He spent a few more minutes considering if there was a way to expand on the Vegas business and just branch it out. He thought about what Kirby had said, about it being hard on Dan to have a friend who was a well-known celebrity, that his ego could only take so much. So he’d make Dan a full partner in this new endeavor so it didn’t come off sounding like he was offering Dan a job in his own damn industry, the one place where Dan was supposed to have the leverage and expertise in their friendship.
He hung his head and let the tension roll from his shoulders. Then he knocked back the rest of the beer before getting up and retrieving the other bottle, throwing them both in the trash.
He let himself quietly out of the suite, trying to decide what the best next step would be. But though the ride down in the elevator didn’t bring any answers regarding his friend, he did know what the next step was going to be with Kirby.
Smiling despite still feeling deeply unsettled about the situation with Dan, he climbed on his bike and headed home.
Chapter 18
Kirby carted the last load of quilts and bedspreads through the screen porch and out to the backyard where she’d resurrected the old rotating laundry line. It was still warm and the air fresh and dry enough that she thought it would be nice to give them all a good airing before her guests started arriving that weekend.
So, she might have shaken them loose with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary, but it was a harmless enough way to burn off excess energy. Energy she’d been hoping to burn off another way entirely. Except it didn’t appear as if Brett had come back last night. Or if he had, he was already up and out early this morning. He never made his bed and she hadn’t done his room yesterday assuming she’d get to it this morning. After they got up. Together.
She snapped out another blanket. Of course it was her fault. She’d told him to go be with his friend, hadn’t she? And she’d meant it. But that was when she’d thought he was coming back, when she could serve him the dish she’d kept warm in the oven for him, share a late-night glass of wine, and then maybe carry the bottle upstairs with them.
She swore under her breath as she flipped the heavy quilt up and over the line, then some more as she tugged it so it laid smoothly over the laundry cord. Would it have killed him to have at least called? She’d been all dreamy and thinking about their future after he left and then…nothing. She turned around, ready to shake out another blanket, only to discover she’d done them all. She picked up the basket and propped it on her hip, giving the linens a final look over.
Great. “Now what in the hell am I supposed to do?” she muttered.
“Well, they look kind of dry to me already, so you’ve got me.”
She swung around and wished she was slightly less thrilled to see him, that her heart hadn’t done a little twist and leap inside of her chest, and that her body hadn’t gone on full-tilt alert the moment she laid eyes on his smile. Because it would have been a hell of a lot easier to be at least a little put out with him, or at the very least, more believable.
“I’m airing them out,” she said, striving for complete indifference. But well aware that the thin, long-sleeve T- shirt she had on, and the complete lack of bra, was probably making it clear she was anything but. Maybe she could blame it on the breeze. If there was one.
“Do they need monitoring, or could I pull you away?”
Every particle of her being shouted “Pull! Pull!” She didn’t even try pulling off the bluff. Brett was definitely not the guy to try that with. “Pull me away where?” Her thoughts had already strayed up to his bedroom, and it was only a miracle of will that her gaze didn’t follow.
Then she realized he was holding something behind his back. Which turned out to be a motorcycle helmet. Her particles sank a little.
