23.

 

Noelle.

 

“Maybe I should have taken the deal.”

I lift my head from a lounger in Juliet’s backyard and look over at my friend. After I spent every waking minute since the flood in a total state of despair, Juliet insisted we take a break from clean-up to hang out at her beach house and try to relax. But it’s impossible to shut off my brain when I can’t see a single solution to my problems—except the one I just turned down.

“It was good money,” I continue with a groan. “Great, in fact. God, I’m so stupid. I threw away my one shot at solving all this mess. Literally! I tossed it in his face.”

“I wish I’d been there to see it,” Juliet chuckles, taking a sip of lemonade. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, but I can’t appreciate the weather when visions of that collapsed ceiling keep haunting my mind.

“It’s not funny!” I whimper. “The insurance guy says Nana’s policy was totally outdated. It won’t cover even a quarter of the cost of the damage. I should have sold the land when I still had the chance.”

“You don’t believe that,” Juliet reminds me. She gives me a sympathetic look. “We’ll get the place cleaned up, and then figure out the rest. Maybe it’ll take some time to get the B&B back on its feet, but you can’t quit now. Not with Bunny Vanderberg’s treasured seal of approval,” she adds.

There’s irony for you. The day after the flood, Bunny’s glowing review ran in Classic Southern Travel. The phone’s been ringing off the hook back at the house, but I didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that we’re closed for business—indefinitely. I sent all the calls to voicemail, but sooner or later, I’m going to have to face the truth:

Rose Cottage is finished, no matter what I do.

I let out another sigh of despair. I would give anything to turn the clock back a week, to when it seemed like the future was shining full of promise; Ash kissing his way down my body as we lay bathed in the morning sunlight; a house full of paying guests that weren’t wading through five inches of water. I had it, I was so close to everything I wanted, and now, it’s all slipped away.

“Would it help to bake something?” Juliet offers. “Just say the word, and my kitchen is yours.”

“Real selfless,” I crack, shooting her a look.

She grins. “Hey, if making triple chocolate cupcakes will help you through this difficult time, then as your friend, I need to support you.”

“Thanks,” I manage a smile, “but I think we’re way past baking.”

I try to lie there and soak up the sunshine, but my brain is buzzing too hard with thoughts of the wreckage—and worse still, Ash.

Why did he have to leave that way?

I know I’m supposed to hate him right now, but the flood makes his hotel plan seem insignificant in comparison. He didn’t ruin things for me in the end; a mix of bad luck and rusted pipes took care of that all on their own.

I try to put him out of my mind, but my heart aches, all the same. I miss him. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I really do. I miss his wit, and his intensity, and the dazzling smile that would flood his features when he forgot to hold back; like a rare gift, just for me. And most of all, I miss the way he made me feel, like absolutely anything was possible.

And now he’s gone.

I sit up with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” I tell Juliet. “I know we were supposed to hang out, but I can’t just sit around here doing nothing.”

“I understand.” Juliet gets up. “When are they coming to suck the rest of the water out?”

“Not until Friday,” I reply, slipping my sandals back on. “I just hope it’s in time to keep everything from being permanently ruined.”

She hugs me. “Is it OK for you to sleep there? You can crash with us here if you need.”

“Thanks, but my studio managed to escape the worst of it. It’s like camping,” I say, trying to be upbeat. “Candles and everything.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just say the word. And Ryland will come by tomorrow, talk about construction options.”

“Unless he can replace the floors, plumbing and drywall for five bucks, I don’t know what use it will be.” I catch myself sounding downcast, and shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I appreciate it, I really do.”

 

I leave Juliet’s and walk home. Or at least, to the place I thought I’d get to call home for years to come. But now, I don’t know what the future holds. I could go back to New York and pick up my legal career where I left off; pretend like the past few months never happened.

But somehow, that thought makes me recoil.

I couldn’t go back now. I’ve had a taste of the life I want, a life of freedom and creativity and belonging, and I couldn’t forget that, not even if I tried.

I want to make my life here, but what that means, I have no idea anymore.

The sound of a horn comes, and I leap back out of the middle of the road. A truck passes me by, and then another—this one with a cement mixer on the bed. They rumble on down the winding road ahead of me, leaving clouds of dust in their wake. I walk faster, curious, and round the bend in time to see them squeeze into the driveway at Rose Cottage.

What on earth?

I hurry home, arriving just as another big van pulls in, and three beefy guys get out. They go unload equipment from the back, and I fight my way through to see what’s going on.

It’s bedlam.

There must be two dozen people here, in a whirlwind of activity. Construction guys carrying plywood and debris out of the house, more men hoisting some kind of industrial hose up the front steps, and people taking measurements and consulting a sheaf of plans.

“Hello?” I grab the nearest guy in a work shirt. “What’s going on?”

“Renovation job,” he answers cheerfully, grabbing a bag of cement.

“But…this is my house!”

“Take it up with the boss,” he shrugs, before heading inside.

I look around, totally confused. Everyone’s working at breakneck pace; I can’t see anyone who might be in charge. Then I catch sight of a group of people clustered over by the side gate. Their heads are bent over papers, set up on a folding table, and they’re consulting the plans and pointing back at the house.

I head over, ready to give someone a piece of my mind. Then I hear a familiar voice rise above the noise, sounding full of authority.

“Once the water’s out, we’ll need to check the integrity of the whole structure. I’m thinking it might be safer to replace more of the area around the collapse.”

He straightens up, and our eyes meet across the yard.

Ash.

I stop dead. I don’t understand. I thought he left; that he hated me. So what is he going in my front yard with his sleeves rolled up and half the construction crews in the state at his beck and call?

The others disperse, and he comes to meet me. “Sorry about the mess.” He gives me a rueful grin.

“Heads up!”

Suddenly Ash grabs my arm and pulls me off the path as five guys haul some kind of steel beam into the house. “Watch out,” he warns me. “You should probably stay back while they’re working. There wasn’t time to set up a proper staging area, not on this tight schedule.”

“What schedule?” I finally cry, my head still spinning. “What’s going on here?” I pause, gripped with a sudden panic. “I said, I’m not selling. You can’t just march in here and rip the place to pieces—!”

“We’re not ripping anything apart,” Ash cuts me off. “We’re restoring it. All the damage, it’ll be fixed in a couple of days, I promise.”

Wait, what?

I stare at him in a daze. “Say that again?” I ask weakly.

He breaks into a broad grin: the kind of dazzling smile that would take my breath away if I wasn’t already having problems remembering to inhale.

“Rose Cottage is getting back to normal,” he explains. “I called my crews, and had them come straight out. They’ll work straight through if you want; you’ll be ready for guests again by next week. Oh, and your phone won’t stop ringing,” he adds. “Your voicemail is full, so I’ve had my assistant take reservation requests. It sounds like the article was a hit, you’ll be booked solid until fall.”

Ash passes me a stack of message slips, but I just stand there in disbelief. I still can’t understand; he tried to get this place razed to the ground, and now he’s doing all of this to help?

“I can’t afford any of this,” I protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. It’s taken care of.”

“By…you?”

I blink. This is all too much. I’m missing something, I have to be. “But why?” I ask. “This morning, you wanted to buy the place out from under me!”

“Because I’m sorry.” Ash’s confident smile slips. He steps forward, as if he’s about to reach for me—then hold back, putting his hands in his pockets instead. “I screwed up,” he tells me, a plaintive expression in his eyes. “You were right, I got so lost in business, I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry, Noelle, for ever hurting you. And the work you’ve done here with the house, it shouldn’t be in vain. So I’m fixing my mistakes—if you’ll let me.”

His words crash over me in a wave of genuine regret. He means it, every word. It’s not just a flashy speech for a crowd, or him turning on the charm to get his way.

Ash is sorry. He’s trying to make it up to me.

He wants to make everything right.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” I stutter. It’s all too much to take in. And even as I’m filled with relief over the house, my heart is still tied up in knots.

Does this mean he wants to fix our relationship, too?

A construction guy interrupts before I can answer, walking between us with a load of plywood. I duck out of the way.

“Wait,” Ash says, taking my hand. “I can’t hear myself think with all this.”

He leads me through the chaotic back yard, and past the gate that leads down to the beach. I follow, my head spinning—and my skin electric from his touch.

He’s sorry. He’s here.

Ash comes to a stop out where the dunes begin; golden and breezy in the crisp ocean air. Here, the construction noise is faded, and there’s nothing but the sound of crashing waves and my own heartbeat, like thunder in my chest.

He turns to face me, still holding on. “Can you forgive me?” he asks, cradling my hand between his. “Noelle, I know I screwed up. Please, tell me it’s not too late for us.”

The emotion is clear on his handsome face, but I’m still shell-shocked and confused.

“I don’t know,” I blurt. His face falls, but I keep a grip on his hands. “You really hurt me, Ash,” I explain, my pulse racing. “I trusted you, I opened up, and then you turn around and act like I meant nothing at all.”

“I know,” Ash swallows. His authoritative tone is gone now, leaving nothing but naked vulnerability. “I’m not good at this, at letting people in. I swore a long time ago I wouldn’t let my feelings get in the way of my career, and I stuck to it. Until you.”

My heart lifts, despite myself.

“You changed everything for me, Noelle.” He reaches to gently cradle my cheek in his hand, his dark eyes searching mine. “Everything. I was only fighting it so hard because I was scared, that if I let this be real, it would make me weaker somehow. That needing you made me less of a man.”

“Ash…” I don’t know what to say. He’s laying everything on the line now, and I know it can’t be easy. Ash has made an art of independence; never admitting any weakness, always being the one to carry the burden of responsibility alone.

And now he’s telling me he wants to change. To open up that strong, tender heart he protects so well, and share it.

With me.

The betrayal and frustration that’s been clawing tight ever since I discovered his plans finally melts away, leaving nothing but something pure, and sweet, and wild.

Something true.

I go up on my tiptoes, and in one smooth motion, I press my lips to his in a searching kiss.

He answers me with everything he has.

Ash’s arms come tight around me, cradling me safely against his muscular torso as his mouth claims mine, once and for all. He kisses me fervently, passionately, pouring every ounce of emotion, every last promise, into this moment, right here.

And it’s perfect.

Pleasure and pure joy radiate through my whole body. I hold on to him tightly, overwhelmed by the feelings crashing over me—and how right it feels to be back in his arms. This kiss could obliterate the sun, but I feel more alive than ever, his touch bringing me home.

This is why I couldn’t just ignore him. This is why even when I hated him, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Because Ash doesn’t make me forget myself, he makes me feel more me. Like right here in his arms is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I feel bolder, braver, more self-assured. I could do anything with him beside me.

And I never want to let him go.

At last, we come up for air. I cling to him, giddy, smiling ear to ear.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Ash asks, his voice low and ragged.

I kiss him again. “What do you think?”

“I need to hear you say it.” His eyes search mine. “I need to know we can move on, that you won’t hold it against me, and drag it up every time we fight.”

“You’re planning on fighting some more with me?” I ask, teasing, as I slide my hands over his chest. “That’s a great start to our relationship.”

Ash chuckles. “Damn right I am.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, still gripping me tightly in his arms. “I plan on fighting with you, and laughing with you, and loving you for the rest of my life.”

His eyes catch mine, blazing with certainty—and the kind of determination that lasts a lifetime.

Wow.

I forget how to breathe for a moment, overcome with the promise he’s making—and what an incredible future it would be.

Will be.

“OK,” I agree breathlessly.

Ash breaks into a massive smile, full of such happiness that it melts me all over again. God, I want to see this man smile forever.

“OK to which part?” he asks, cradling my face in his hands. “Just to be clear now.”

“You sound like you’re drawing up a contract,” I giggle.

“Maybe we should,” he laughs. “We, the undersigned, do solemnly swear to always forgive each other when we screw up, and make out at every moment possible.”

“And do the dishes when it’s your turn,” I add.

“And never leave angry,” he adds, a tender look crossing his face.

“Never leave at all,” I correct him.

“I can live with that.” Ash grins. There’s a crashing sound from the house, he winces. “We better check they’re not tearing out a wall you need.”

“I do need walls,” I agree, as we turn to stroll back towards the house. “But what about you?” I ask. “Where are you going to live, I mean? Your work is in New York.”

“My company can run fine with me at a distance,” he says, sliding an arm around my shoulder. “I can visit every month. You’ll want to see your family, won’t you? And besides, I have to figure out what to do with all this land.”

He gestures next door, to the plot that stretches down the bay.

“No hotels,” I tell him, only part joking.

He chuckles. “I promise. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a house. A home,” he adds, glancing down at me with meaning in his eyes. I squeeze him tight in answer, loving the thought of him right there next door to me.

Or even closer.

Because Ash’s smile turns knowing. “Besides,” he adds. “Just because you’re running the B&B, it doesn’t mean you have to stay living in that little studio. I’m sure I’d have plenty of room for you with me.”

“You mean, so I can come over and use your pool?” I tease.

Ash suddenly sweeps me into his arms. “I was thinking more, my bed,” he corrects me, his eyes dark with a passionate intent that makes me forget the crowded yard, and all the workmen bustling around. “Every night, and every morning, and everything in between.”

The moment shimmers between us. The promise of a future.

“I love you,” I whisper, and he smiles.

“I’ve been falling in love with you since the minute we met. And I’m going to keep falling, forever.”

He dips me back and kisses me hard, until there are whoops and whistles around us in the yard. But still, we don’t stop.

This is just the beginning, and I don’t ever want to stop.

 

THE END

(Almost!)