“When you tried to convince me to spend three times the budget on custom pendants?” I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
“Well, design isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about experience. How a place makes you feel.”
“I get that. Which is why I love your idea for the countertops. I’m still not going for the pendants, though.”
Our eyes met over the plans, and I was intensely aware of how this place made me feel. My earlier anxieties about budgets and timelines melted into something warmer, more complicated.
I cleared my throat and looked back at the renderings. “So, timeline for these bungalows?”
Chase shifted his weight, returning to professional mode. “Plumbing rough-in completes this week. Electrical next.” He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty. “I’m a bit concerned about the windows. The supplier is backlogged.”
“Can we expedite?” I mentally calculated what that might do to our already strained budget.
“I’ve been working on it. I have some connections from previous projects. I might be able to pull some strings.”
“Chase Ashworth, using his considerable charm for the greater good of Sunset Siesta?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Is that how you see me? Charming?”
The question caught me off guard, and heat flooded my cheeks. “I meant, uh… professionally speaking. You know, with suppliers and contractors.”
“Ah,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Of course.”
An awkward silence fell between us, filled only by the distant sounds of hammering and the gentle shush of waves. I scrambled for something professional to say. “What about the fixtures for the bathroom? Did you decide on the matte black or the brushed nickel?”
“Actually,” Chase reached into his messenger bag andproduced another small sample board. “I found an option I think you’ll like better.”
Our hands brushed as he passed me the sample—a beautiful, antique copper that would age naturally over time, developing character and color with each passing year. The metaphor wasn’t lost on me.
“Oh my,” I said softly, looking up to find him watching me intently. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, his voice lower than before.
The air between us thickened. Our shoulders brushed again as we both leaned over the plans, and this time neither of us moved away. The moment stretched, possibility lingering heavily in the sawdust-laden air.
“Harper!” someone called from outside, breaking the spell. “You there? The Hendersons are checking out and asking for you specifically!”
I stepped back, reality rushing in. “Duty calls.”
Chase nodded, rolling up the renderings with careful hands. “We can review the rest of these later. Sounds like your magic touch is needed.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I mentally shifted into general manager mode.
As I turned to leave, Chase called after me. “Harper?”
I glanced back, caught by something in his tone.
“It’s going to be worth it. All of this. I promise.”
I nodded, believing him despite all my practical doubts, and headed back to deal with the Hendersons, the feel of aged copper and the memory of his arm against mine lingering like promises.
