Not knowing what to do with that, I pick up the hand I was dealt, realizing I don’t like it at all. I look up over my cards and see him snickering in his seat.
“Whatcha laughing at, old man?”
“How pathetic you are.” He snickers some more, holding his cards in front of his face.
“Ouch. And you’re a liar. But let's get started. I’m going to need a miracle to come back from this hand.”
Looking at my hand, I have ten cards, and no matches. So I choose to discard my first turn, hoping to unload some of this crap.
Vern lays down a match, and I already know how this game is going to go. “So, do you have a plan for winning her back?”
“No, she’s barely been tolerant of me thus far. Maybe we should wait and see if she even likes me.”
“She’s just being mean to protect her heart. Her mom was the same way before. Well, when her mom was still her.”
“I did what I did for her, and I don’t think she will believe me. It’s not like I have a way to prove it.”
“Actions speak louder than words. Be the man she needs without her having to ask. It should come naturally to you anyway.”
He takes his turn and lays down his matching set of cards. I’m going to get my ass whooped in this game. I take a sip of coffee, and the warmth slides down my throat. He makes his coffee so strong it’ll putsome hair on your chest. But it does help wake me up, almost as much as his comment about winning back his granddaughter.
More than anything, I want that girl to be mine. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to win her back, and this time, she’s not leaving Windy Peaks without me.
Chapter 19
Willow
“Yes, I understand the severity of the timeline. The contractors are certain they can finish on schedule.” I leave out the part where I am absolutely certain we will not finish in time.
“To make sure you’re staying on track. I’d like for you to send out an email of your weekly tasks and their status,” Tony says, and it’s in such a tone that it makes me feel about two inches tall.
I should’ve known that when I was assigned my own project, he would micromanage me. It’d be nice if the company I’ve busted my ass for could trust me with this. Even if it does end up going over the budget and timeline, I wouldn’t be the first person to have that happen to. But unfortunately, those thoughts have to stay inside my little brain because I don’t feel like being fired today.
“I can do that, but I do want you to know that I have complete confidence in this project and would appreciate you reciprocating that.” Being firm like this feels abrasive, but it’s a tactic I’ve had to learn the hard way if I ever wanted to be taken seriously.
“Sure, but trust has to be earned. I know it’s frustrating to have eyes on your project, but if this is a success, you’ll have a lot more freedom.” I can hear the squeak of his chair on the other end of the line, and it adds to the simmering fury I have. I can just picture him comfortably reclining in his chair, having the gall to lecture me from the comfort of his big office with a view.
I’ve been at the company for twelve years. You think that would earn me a little bit of trust-induced freedom, but you know, beggars can’t be choosers; at least I got a project.
“I plan to knock this project out of the park,” I say through tight lips. My tone could use some work on being more convincing, but at least I didn’t mouth off.
“I’m sure you will. Listen, Willow, I’ve got a call coming on the other line. Send me that email by the end of the week, thanks.” The line goes dead, and I debate chucking my phone across the room.
The phone call leaves me with restless energy. I feel frustrated by the lack of autonomy I have over the project, but also anxious that I’ve overpromised what I can deliver. I need to get this energy out, and the only way I can think to do that is a nice long run.
It takes twenty minutes to dig through my half-unpacked bag and fling all my stuff haphazardly around the room to find my running shoes. When Weston insisted I stay with him, he took on the task of helping me pack, and his way of organizing was to throw everything in as quickly as possible. The fact that I have yet to unpack is further proof I’m living in a state of denial that I’m newlysecretlysingle and residing just a few doors down from the man that still has the power to make my heart flutter.
Since I don’t feel like being eaten by a bear today, running on the gravel road instead of through the woods will be my safest bet. Plus, with my sense of direction, I’d probably end up getting lost, and that doesn’t sound like a pleasant way to go. There’s no GPS, and even if there was, the cellphone coverage up here is terrible.
With every step of my feet hitting the gravel, I feel a bit of relief. I’ve always loved the clear head running gives me. I get to think through all my thoughts in every single possible scenario. It's like my own littlemovie in my head. My best planning for projects is always done on runs.
I make a mental list of all the things I need to get done at the cabins, like finding a booking system that will be user-friendly for the family but also supports long-term growth for the business. Then I need to really get started on making a mood board for the decor and seeing if Weston agrees. Better yet, I should loop his style-loving sister in.
It would be a good reason to see her. She’s been working long hours at the hospital since I’ve been back, and I miss her. I’ve missed her the entire time I was gone. She was always the little sister I didn’t have, and I’m bummed we haven’t had the opportunity to spend much time together while I've been here.
Pulling my headphones out of my ears, I take a step into Weston’s cabin. My new home for the next couple of months. I’m seriously missing my rustic cabin right now, even though Weston’s home is really nice. My room, even for a spare room quite spacious. It has a whole bedroom set, a nice quilt, and even an extra throw blanket, which I’m pretty sure had something to do with either Aspen or Mabel, but I’ll give him credit for it at least being there. The bathroom I was in even had soap that wasn’t a bar.
It’s clear to see that Weston has put a lot of time and effort into his home. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard being here. He’s literally everywhere. He's in the pictures hung by the TV with Maverick and Rhett next to him. His cowboy hats are hung near the front door and his scent lingers in every room. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I was a piece of this family, and I’m not anymore. Being here is a cruel reminder of that. Not being with Weston was hard, but losing his family felt like I was losing my own, especially since all I have left is my grandpa.
