Chapter Four
HARPER
My car’sengine rumbled as I stared at the familiar, beautiful house and braced myself for another argument. It was past 9:00 p.m., but I knew Chase would be in his home office, surrounded by blueprints and sketchbooks and enough architectural ambition to keep him awake long past midnight. The plumbing issue had been a festering wound all day, and I wouldn’t sleep until we ripped off the bandage and bled it dry. Finn already had a sleepover at Mom’s for tonight, so I had nothing preventing me from coming over. And I didn’t want to call or text about this. I rehearsed my compromise one last time as I walked to the front door and rang the bell. He answered quickly.
“Harper? D-didn’t expect to see you,” he stammered, surprise etched across his face. He leaned uneasily against the doorframe, barefoot and undeniably sexy in jeans and a navy T-shirt. I tried not to notice that.
“I know, but this is important, Chase.” I crossed my arms, not letting him distract me. “So I came over to seeyou in person. We need to talk about the Block One plumbing realistically.”
Shifting his broad frame, he led me inside. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were doing all day.”
I ignored him, my steps echoing against the immaculate wood floors. I’d been in his house before with Eli, but now I saw it with new eyes. The living room was precisely what I’d expect from a talented architect. Lovingly restored, beautiful floors. Modern furniture that screamed understated elegance yet also looked inviting. My irritation with him mixed with the stupid warmth that grew hotter every time I looked at his beautiful, chiseled face, creating an emotional Molotov cocktail I was afraid could explode at any moment.
So why did I come over here in person instead of calling?
I couldn’t remember now.
He motioned to the open door of his office. “Let’s go in here. I’ve been working tonight.”
“I should have brought my battle armor,” I muttered.
“Yeah, well,” he called back, meeting my eyes, “I left my white flag at the studio.”
I followed him into his office and took a long inhale. This had to stay professional.
The room smelled like paper, ink, and Chase. Clean. Precise. And just messy enough to show he’d been working hard. Blueprints of the resort renovations covered his wide mahogany desk. His hair was mussed, his jawline stubbled, and if I weren’t already annoyed with him, the whole thing would have been disgustingly attractive. It still was, and that was part of the problem.
“We need to fix this before it throws the entire schedule off.” I planted myself by his desk, standing like I might refuse to leave.
“Fixing it is the whole idea.” He joined me, leaning onthe desk with infuriating casualness and keeping his voice even. “Replacing the pipes now saves headaches down the line.”
I shook my head. “Chase, the budget’s already tight, and ripping everything out means we’d have to close the entire block. It’s too disruptive.”
“It’s disruptive for a week, Harper, not for the rest of the season.” His voice was as cool as the room, his eyes never leaving mine. “And the water will be off for less than a day. Patch jobs won’t last. You’re sacrificing the long-term health of the resort.”
“Or maybe I’m prioritizing our guests’ comfort and payroll!” I snapped.
He crossed his arms, which highlighted his muscles. Damn him. “This isn’t about saving a few dollars today. It’s about preventing a catastrophe tomorrow. Do you fully understand the risks here?”
The words stung, and I glared at him. “You think I don’t understand? Easy for you to say from your ivory tower! I’m the one dealing with complaints and staff, not sitting pretty in a design studio!”
“Really?” His brows shot up. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re doing a pretty good job running the show.”
I ignored his compliment. “Maybe because I have to fight for every inch! We’re going way over budget.”
“And I’ve been fronting the money for the overruns, if you recall.” His icy, precise tone grated on my nerves. So did the fact that he was taking a lot of the financial risks.
“Yes, sir.” I snarled. “You have the money. You make the decisions.”
He stood up and stared daggers down at me. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“There’s got to be some sort of compromise besidesripping out all that copper. It got replaced only a decade ago!”
“And the contractor did a shitty job on that section. I’m sorry, but thisisthe compromise. Otherwise, I’d suggest replacing all of it, Harper. The whole building. This isn’t just a disagreement. It’s a fundamental issue with the project, and I thought we were on the same page about these things.”
“You’re so inflexible,” I shouted back, stabbing my finger in his chest. “You’re designing for an architectural magazine, not a real-world resort!”
“I’m trying to make sure you—we—still have a resort ten years from now,” he growled through gritted teeth, the volume of his voice rising.
