Love Reimagined (Kings Grove Book 2) Page 6

  Chance settled in after a while—he always took about fifteen minutes of hurricaning around the office to finally become productive again. For him, that meant shutting his door and making calls while I poured over spreadsheets full of payroll and logistics details. Not to make it sound unfair or anything—I also drew the plans. And that part was my favorite. But you draw the plans for a project, and once the client approves them, that’s that, with the exception of a few modifications here and there. And what remains is all the less fun stuff. Spreadsheets, like I said.

  “Sam, I’m ready to take my test,” Miranda said, standing at my door.

  She found me at my drafting desk, in one of those rare moments when I wasn’t doing what I should have been doing.

  “What’s this?” she said, stepping to my side and glancing around me to see the drawing I was working on.

  I pulled a blueprint from the side of the table and slid it over the top of my landscape, well aware she’d already seen it.

  “Nothing, just screwing around.” My voice was harsher than I’d intended and she recoiled, stepping away. I straightened and moved back a step, and Miranda reached over and slid the landscape out again, almost spitefully, like she thought she was going to catch me doing something horrible.

  Her face rearranged as she took in the image I’d drawn—a pastoral view of a meadow with the shadow of the ridge out behind it. She went from looking agitated or angry to something calmer, almost reverent. “This is good, Sam.” She sounded shocked I might be capable of anything besides sarcasm.

  “Great. Thanks for the endorsement.” I hated the biting tone I heard in my own voice, and I swallowed hard and turned to face her. Since she’d been reaching around me, the move practically put her in my embrace. Her arm grazed my side as I spun and she stood inches from my chest, the crown of her blond head just below my chin. At that range, I could smell her shampoo again and I had to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into me. Every cell in my body wanted to see what that would feel like, to have her against me, to bury my face in that sweet scent of hers, to have the chance to hold her, kiss her.

  But as quickly as I’d spun, she stepped backward with a surprised “oh,” and the space where she’d been was left with only a shadow of her presence as she moved to the other side of the room. I cleared my throat and turned to quickly adjust myself without her noticing. Having Miranda George inches away was almost unbearable, and my body was responding as if the thought of touching her might be anything more than a dream.

  “So the numbers?” she said, her voice less certain than it had been before. “Your little test?”

  “Right.” I picked up the printout I’d made of the spreadsheet I’d had her looking at. “And it isn’t a test. I told you. We make mistakes. Having another set of eyes can help prevent that.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe me at all.

  I followed her to the reception area and pulled a chair up to her desk. She scooted away from me, the wheels of the old secretary chair squealing as she forced them sideways. “Only a couple things besides that backhoe. Here,” she pointed at the screen. “And here.”

  I dropped my eyes to my own spreadsheet. I’d only caught one of those, but she was on target. “Yeah, you’re right. Dammit.”

  “Is it that hard to accept I’m not a complete moron?”

  I dropped the spreadsheet on the desk and looked up at her, catching her narrowed blue eyes and the stiff defensive posture of her body, leaning as far from me as she could get. She really hated me. Worse, it was clear she didn’t trust me. Not that I’d ever given her much of a reason to—I’d never explained that I’s also been a victim in that incident in the shed, and then I’d been immature and rude to avoid being humiliated in the wake of revealing anything close to my actual feelings. Her body language made me think of a caged animal, pulling itself to the far reaches of its cage to get away from its captor.

  “Miranda,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. It made my heart hurt to have to see up close how much she reviled me. Especially because I felt so differently about her. I’d spent years trying to get past the ridiculous crush I had on her, but it’d been pointless, and now I’d grown used to the dull ache I felt when she wasn’t around, and the sharp intense pain of her disdain when she was. Add to that the crushing jealousy I fought off when I watched her moon over my brother, and I was a pretty solid mess. “I don’t think you’re a moron. I’m not trying to trick you or trap you…” I spread my hands across my thighs and tried to figure out how to talk to someone who distrusted me so completely. “Listen, you and me…we used to be friends—“

  “That’s ancient history, Sam,” she interrupted.

  “I know. And I know I screwed things up. I know it was that party, and then the prom—”

  “I’m not talking about that.” Her chin lifted and her shoulders tensed even more as she shut the door on the apology I was about to offer for not telling her what had really happened at that party that had ended up with us both in the shed. Or for doing exactly the wrong thing at the prom.

  “Okay, fine.” My mind was spinning. This was not going well, and I couldn’t have her here if it was going to disrupt business, or make me a complete babbling buffoon when I needed to be the one to keep this enterprise in the black. “Look. I need you here. We need you here. In one day you’ve proven your value, and I know now that I can trust you to help me keep the resources and numbers on track. That’s more than Chance can do…”

  “Chance is—“

  “You don’t need to defend my brother.” I felt suddenly exhausted, watching the fire jump into her eyes as she prepared to defend Chance. I heard the defeat in my voice as I spoke the next part. “He’s important here, too. He’s the face of the company, the guy who brings in the work. Sometimes he even does some of the work.”

  She raised an angry eyebrow.

  When would I learn that sarcasm and Miranda George were not a good match?

  I sighed, rubbing a hand over my jaw. Try again, Sam. Get it right. “I’m trying to say that we need you here. And I’m also trying to thank you for what you’ve done already today. I might’ve been testing you a bit, but it’s only because this is our family legacy, and I need to protect it. I wanted to be sure you could handle the responsibilities I want to throw at you.”

  “I really thought you just needed someone to answer phones.” She sounded less defensive. That was progress, at least.

  I shrugged a shoulder, glancing at Chance’s closed door. “That’s what Chance thought. But he doesn’t see the churn that happens outside his orbit of awesomeness. There’s a lot of gritwork, and I need help. Are you up for that?”

  Miranda glanced at Chance’s door too, a wistful expression crossing her face before it hardened again as she turned back to me. “Yes. But not a single mention of the past from you.” She put a finger in my chest.

  I couldn’t help the little grin that stretched my cheeks at her touch. She was adorable when she was trying to be threatening. “You mean I can’t talk about the aquarium?”

  “No.”

  “Or the time we were playing hide and seek and it started pouring rain and you left me out there forever while you went in to get hot chocolate?”

  “That either.”

  I was enjoying this. Her cheeks had turned a glorious shade of pink and her eyes were flashing behind her frames. If I couldn’t have anything else from her, at least I had history. I wasn’t giving it up. “What about that time at the dance—“

  “I’m not kidding, Sam. I don’t ever want to talk about that.”

  She thought I was talking about prom again. But that hadn’t been my intention. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was thinking of eighth grade, when—“

  “Enough.” She looked at her watch. “It’s five. What time am I off?”

  “Five.” I said, feeling my chest deflate as she stood and went to the tall cabinet to pick up her purse. “But Miranda, one day we
will have to talk about all that, you know. One day you’ll have to let me apologize. To clear the air.”

  “There’s no apology needed. We were young, and you were an idiot.”

  “Well, I don’t know if idiot is the right word,” I began, unable to keep my mouth from leaping to defend my ego.

  “Whatever,” she sniffed. “See you in the morning. My shift at the diner is tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll come here first.”

  And just like that, she was gone. Gone and pissed off at me. Pretty much the description of the last ten years when it came to me and Miranda.

  Chapter 10

  Miranda

  My first day at Palmer Construction wasn’t exactly a raging success. On the other hand, I hadn’t broken anything, spilled anything on anyone, or screwed up the work I’d been asked to do. But the day had not gone according to my fantasy about it either. In the fantasy, Chance had opened the door for me and sat on the edge of my desk while I made keen observations about their need to expand beyond construction and into interiors so that I could be made a full partner in the business. Sometimes in the fantasy, Chance would tell me that now that I was there, we wouldn’t need Sam at all. And then Sam would leave town as Chance and I stood arm in arm waving goodbye to him. Sam Palmer would drive away and take all his teasing and prodding and stirring up of the past with him. And then there’d be the steamy kiss with Chance.

  But that wasn’t how my first day had gone at all, and I wasn’t sure if spending my time side by side with Sam Palmer would be made bearable by the mere possibility of getting a little time with Chance. I doubted it very much.

  Beyond the Palmers, though, I’d found a glimmer of something else while I’d sat behind that big desk, poring over numbers and plans. I’d found it challenging and enjoyable, even with the ever-present licorice scent wafting around me, making me feel like a detainee in Willy Wonka’s black vine prison. The work—it had been good. And interesting.

  At home that night, I’d told my parents about it, and they’d smiled as I gushed about having found a couple errors, about doing something more productive than pouring coffee and delivering waffles.

  “That’s great, pudding,” Dad said, ruffling my hair and taking the seat next to me at the round table we used for everything. “And you’ll still have time to study?” He glanced out to where the new computer sat, its big screen beckoning me near.

  “Definitely.” And with that, I rose and reseated myself in front of the Mac I’d saved a year to buy. The computer that would allow me to get my design degree, and could support the software needed to do the actual work.

  “Morning,” Sam called as I pulled open the front door of Palmer Construction the following morning. Even a greeting sounded like a taunt, coming from him.

  I pushed down my potentially unreasonable annoyance, and called back, “Good morning!”

  And then it was as if the clouds parted and the sun washed me new in the glory of its rays. Chance Palmer stepped into the room, his smile bright and his amazing grey-blue eyes fixed on me. “Miranda!” he said. And he sounded happy to see me.

  Being the focus of Chance’s singular attention, even for a brief morning greeting, was almost enough to drop me flat. My heart took off at a gallop, my palms got sweaty, and my dress suddenly felt tight. All my clothes actually felt awkward. Or maybe it was that my body had suddenly slicked with sweat, and everything was sticky and uncomfortable. I couldn’t hold his eyes, and dropped them, only to find my gaze lingering down the length of his body, pausing a beat too long in the one spot you really shouldn’t be caught staring at on a man. I gulped hard and tore my eyes away, grabbing at my purse and then pretending to check my phone before stupidly uttering something about my mother.

  So smooth.

  I stumbled around my desk, pushing my purse into the tall cabinet, and then turned back around, hating the heat I felt in my cheeks. Both Sam and Chance were standing in front of my desk, watching me. Sam turned to look at his brother, and I imagined the thoughts going through his head. What an idiot. She’s such a klutz! Chance, for his part, just looked surprised.

  “Well,” he said, his eyebrows rising high over those fathomless eyes as he wiped his hands across the front of his jeans. “I’m excited to see more great things from you this week, Miranda. Sam told me all about the stuff you caught yesterday. Nice job!”

  “S-s-sure,” I stammered.

  “You comfortable enough out here? Need anything?” he asked, leaning on the side of my desk. A scent of cologne wafted my way, something woodsy and touched with something more esoteric, like unicorn sweat. It smelled like heaven.

  “All good,” I said, noticing that I’d begun salivating heavily.

  God, how could I imagine a future with him if I couldn’t even be near him without my body going into some kind of pheromone-fueled overload that turned me stupid, speechless, and drooly? This was impossible.

  “I got her all set up,” Sam said, stepping closer. Now licorice was added to the heady mix of scents and my head felt like it was swimming.

  “Just checking,” Chance said, giving me his killer smile again.

  Sam crossed his arms and looked annoyed, and I got the sense again that things were not always peaceful here at Palmer—not between them, at least.

  “So, Miranda,” Chance said, his voice just above a whisper, the syllables dripping over me like warm honey. “I have a favor to ask.”

  I found myself nodding, not caring what he was going to ask, ready to do anything this man wanted.

  He dropped a Post-It note in front of me. “Can you send flowers to this address?” He dropped his chin and then gave me a half-smile, looking sheepish. “I should have sent them a week ago, so I’d appreciate it if you could make them something special. Use the card in the desk.”

  “What?” Sam said, his voice louder than usual. “That’s not why she’s here, Romeo. Handle your own apologies, loser.” He picked up the Post-It, on which I’d noticed the name Christine, and flung it back at him.

  Chance stood up straight and spread his arms in a shrug that made him seem innocent. “What?”

  “Miranda’s too smart to spend her time answering phones and ordering flowers for your one-night stands, Chance. Do it yourself.”

  I sat up straighter, not sure at what point in this exchange I should speak up, if at all. I was torn. I was happy to do whatever Chance asked of me—like anything, really. But at the same time, my heart was sinking to hear mention of other women in his life. Women who’d gotten to touch that long strong body. Women who’d gotten to press their lips to his, to feel his hands on them… Women who were not me.

  “It’s okay,” I offered, but the men were facing each other in a standoff, both of them silent. Finally, Chance turned and strode into his office and closed the door. Just as Sam turned to say something to me, the door opened again and Chance walked back out, his car keys and a laptop case in hand.

  “Just remembered I have some work to do in the valley,” he said. “Be back tomorrow.”

  I watched him leave, my chest tightening slightly at the knowledge that I’d been involved in the event that had made Chance so upset. I hoped he wouldn’t hold it against me.

  Once he’d left, Sam stood silently in front of my desk for a few long seconds, staring at the floor. He seemed to be deep in thought, so I just left him there and got started pulling up the documents we’d been looking at the day before. I’d almost managed to forget he was there when he sighed heavily and dropped his hands onto my desk across from me.

  “Miranda,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. The tone of his voice suggested I would not like what he was about to say.

  “Do you want my help?”

  “With what?” I asked, unable to keep the suspicion from creeping into my voice.

  “With my brother.”

  “Wait, I’m not sure I get it.” Maddie’s eyes were wide as she leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, listening to me explain
Sam’s offer.

  “I don’t know if I do either, but he said he’d help me get Chance’s attention.”

  Maddie didn’t say anything, but her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up a bit, so I could tell she was thinking about something.

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “That’s pretty nice of him,” she said.

  “Yeah, but I don’t trust him. The guy lives to see me humiliate myself.” About four hundred examples flew through my mind.

  “Sam seems like a trustworthy guy, actually.”

  “That’s because you haven’t known him since kindergarten.” When I thought of Sam, my blood heated in fury over all the times he’d been right there with an evil comment when the most humiliating events of my life had happened. He’d been a witness to practically every single flub, and it was hard not to associate him, or even blame him. And I did blame him for some of it.

  “True.” Maddie turned as the bell over the door rang and Adele greeted Cameron, Maddie’s brother.

  “Well, if it isn’t my very favorite Turner!” Adele patted Cameron’s arm and beamed at him. No one could figure out why her attitude reversed so completely when Cam was around, but he seemed to be the only person in town she actually liked, besides Frank.

  “Good to see you, Adele,” Cameron said, leaning over to kiss her jowly cheek. He turned and Maddie went to meet him.

  “I heard that comment, by the way,” Maddie said to Adele. “And my feelings are a little hurt.”

  Adele waved this away with a sigh and a flapping hand. “You’re made of steel, nothing hurts you. Besides you’re not really a Turner anyway. You’re practically a Charles.”