“Yeah, Dad. I know what you mean.”
I drain my cognac glass, as conversation shifts to the trip to Australia my parents have planned for next fall. But my mind is only half engaged in what they’re talking about. The other half is formulating a plan to do just what Dad said.
I’ll win Ashley over, professionally, of course.
Personally, I’ll keep her at arm’s length. That’s the only safe distance for a woman who is capable of both tempting me and tormenting me, the way I suspect she is.
Chapter six
Ashley
Christmas with my dad was exactly what I needed to get my head on straight. He reminded me that my unique style is what makes me so talented as a designer. The passion I have for the kind of spaces I like to design is evident in the work I’ve already done, and I’ve got a long list of happy clients singing my praises.
If the work I want to do isn’t in downtown Vancouver anymore, then so be it. Maybe it’s time for me to look elsewhere. I don’t want to leave the city, Lord knows I’ll miss the energy, the restaurants, and the shopping, but I can’t enjoy any of that if I don’t have work.
Now I’m back on Vancouver Island, driving through a snowstorm to get to the winery for a meeting with Pierre and Finn.
I hunch forward, staring out my windshield at the flakes coming down outside. Snow this heavy isn’t common for the West Coast, so it always rattles me when it hits. But I’ve got good tires and Dad made sure I knew how to drive in snow when I was a teenager. Slowly I make my way to La Lune Rouge, thanking the powers that be that the roads are plowed here.
When I arrived on the island yesterday and got settled in the Airbnb I’ve booked a suite at for the next few months, it was cold outside, but the skies were clear. But things can change quickly, as today’s weather proves. When I woke up this morning, my room was cold but heated up quickly once I turned on the gas fireplace. The suite I’m staying in is cute and spacious, the only downside is I have to share a bathroom with the other suite. But since no one else is staying there right now, I have the place to myself.
I let out a long sigh of relief when I finally pull in to park in front of the building that will eventually house the tasting room and wine shop at La Lune Rouge. I don’t see any other vehicles, but Pierre made sure I had a key to the space before I left for Christmas, so I let myself inside. Shivering at the cold air, I turn up the thermostat and turn on the lights. Those fluorescent bulbs have got to go, and when I spy the boxes I had shipped over from the mainland, I smile. Perfect. But before I can open them to make sure everything arrived intact, the door opens, bringing in a gust of cold air.
“Shit, it’s freezing in here.”
I turn to see Finn removing his ball cap and brushing snow off of it. “A toque would keep your head warmer, you know,” I say, unable to resist the dig. The last thing I need is for him to realize that a guy wearing a backwards ball cap is like catnip for me. There isn’t much that I find hotter than that.
He doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at me silently. It’s unnerving and I shift from one foot to the other, wondering if I should apologize for my snark. But the bite to his response has me rethinking that apology.
“Yeah, but a toque wouldn’t turn you on as much as my hat does, now would it?”
A shocked gasp escapes me before I can stop it. “I don’t…what…I…” shitshitshitshitshit. How the hell did he figure that out?
His low chuckle doesn’t help. Neither does the disdain in his voice when he replies. “It’s okay, princess. You don’t have to say anything. It’s obvious.”
I close my eyes and try to find some sense of calm before I speak. “Is Pierre on his way?”
If Finn cares that I’m changing the subject, he doesn’t let it show. “I don’t think he’s going to make it. He’s stubborn and refuses to put snow tires on his car, so he won’t drive in this.”
Great. I’m stuck here with mister tall, dark, and scruffy all by myself.
“Alright. Well, I guess we can get started then. You’ve seen the final design?”
Finn nods but doesn’t say a word. For a guy who had some strong opinions last time we spoke, he’s strangely silent now.
“Any thoughts? Feedback? Did you review the budget I sent with the design?” I fold my arms in front of me. He has the decency to allow a flash of guilt mar his face.
“No. I didn’t want it to ruin my time with my parents.”
I huff out a laugh. “God, could you be any more dramatic?” I inhale deeply and exhale out my nose. Why does he have to make this so difficult? “Fine. If you’re going to let a few numbers on a piece of paper scare you, I’ll have to show you.”
I turn away and walk over to where the boxes I had shipped over are placed. So far not much has arrived, and it won’t until we’ve tackled the necessary construction and painting. But these were things I had in storage, waiting for the right project. And the tasting room is that project. Just inside the top of one box holds the papers I’m looking for. I thrust them out to him, and shake my hand when he doesn’t immediately take them.
“Take it. They won’t bite.”
He narrows his eyes at me slightly, and the intensity of his gaze makes me shiver. But he finally unfolds the receipts and invoices and glances down. I watch his face carefully and it doesn’t disappoint.
“Wait. This says…no way, that price must be wrong.” He glances up at me, his brow furrowed. “I’ve done my research, princess, I know how much live edge wood tables and blown glass sconces cost.”
