‘I should go,’ he said again.
‘Right, of course.’ She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. ‘Thanks for being my fake boyfriend.’
Fake. He winced a little at the word. He hoped Daisy didn’t notice.
‘Gotta break that curse, right?’ He forced a smile.
‘Right.’
‘Goodnight, Daisy November.’
‘Goodnight, Elliot Milton.’
‘I still don’t think that’s going to come up in conversation.’
Daisy grinned. ‘Oh, I’ll make sure it does.’
He waved goodbye to the sound of her laughter.
This was going to hurt later, but it was the best night he’d had in a long time.
ChapterNine
Elliot had just finished up a meeting with Mary and Joseph, the owners of the inn, and yes, he had seen the irony the first time he met them. When he told his mom he was working on an inn for Mary and Joseph, she’d thought he was joking. Unfortunately, they weren’t joking at all when they added new specifications for the main house during their meeting, and now he needed to update the plans, again, but it would all be worth it when it was done.
Renovating a historic building of this size and scope was his dream job. The inn had been around since 1801, according to his research, and had consistently hosted guests since then. The main building had gorgeous pillars and two levels of porches out front. It was a classic New England colonial with low ceilings and wood beams in the small lobby, and a sitting room complete with a big, cozy fireplace. The twenty-four guest rooms had various levels of historical accuracy as they’d been redone at different times over the years without a lot of attention paid to the age of the building. The carriage house, also original to the property, was being used as an event space, probably what Daisy’s ex had been up here looking at with his fiancée.
Unfortunately, the whole property hadn’t been well maintained through the years, and the repairs hadn’t always made sense with the original style. He’d like to have a serious discussion with whoever decided to carpet the lobby and cover over the brick fireplace with river stones more appropriate for a hunting lodge than an inn. But those were easy fixes, more design than structural.
The main part of his job so far had been redesigning the motel-style rooms that were added to the inn in the 1970s. They’d been tacked on to create more rooms for guests, but they didn’t match the style or the quality of the rest of the inn. Not to mention the new modern spa that had been added just a few years ago. As it stood now, the whole property was a hodgepodge of time periods and styles. It was Elliot’s job to make it all make sense.
He loved it.
After spending years working on old houses with Caleb, alongside his architecture studies, he was thrilled to work on something like this, something that was all his. He’d been working on his designs for months, and it was nearly time to break ground. Or it would be, if Mary and Joseph stopped changing their minds and adding to the scope of the project. Today, they were discussing the possibility of converting the sunroom at the back of the inn into a breakfast room. Elliot assured them that adding breakfast to the inn’s offerings was a great idea.
Assuming that room was structurally sound.
Something he now had to get a structural engineer out here to assess. The room had essentially been used as a greenhouse for years. If it was going to accommodate humans, he had to make sure it was safe.
But that was a task for tomorrow.
On his way out, he stopped at the front desk nestled under the main staircase to chat with Jack.
Jack, who was always impeccably dressed without a hair out of place, was a fellow Dream Harbor transplant. He’d moved to town a few years before Elliot, and he was one of the few people in Dream Harbor who knew Elliot existed. Without Jack, Elliot was pretty sure the inn would have completely fallen apart by now. Jack knew every guest that checked in, he made sure everyone was treated like a VIP, and he was the main reason Elliot got hired. Apparently, he’d seen some of the houses Elliot had worked on nearby and was a fan of his work.
At this point, Elliot was here so much, he and Jack had struck up a friendship. Or at least, Elliot hoped he could consider Jack a friend.
That would be nice. He needed a friend that he wasn’t fake-dating.
‘Hey,’ he said, swiping a muffin from the basket Jack kept at the desk. Lemon poppyseed and clearly from The Gingerbread Bakery. Absolutely delicious.
‘Those are for guests,’ Jack said, half-heartedly swatting his hand away. ‘And for people that don’t keep secrets.’
‘What secrets?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. How about that you’ve been dating the cursed florist for a month now and haven’t mentioned a word about it, and I had to hear it from her ex of all people.’
Jack ran his palms down his floral-printed vest, smoothing out the already immaculate fabric, clearly insulted by this oversight.
