Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(46)

She’d be happy to stay here, to live here.

It wasn’t perfect yet, but it would be soon.

She fished her phone out of her bag and checked the amount in her checking account. Covering her hand over her mouth, Rachael squelched a scream as the balance reflected a new, ambitious amount.

Thanks to Cole, she’d be able to furnish this place sooner than she thought.

“Well?” Martina Pierre stood in front of the stone-covered hearth, her hands planted on her hips. “What do you think?”

“Your designs are beautiful,” Rachael said, taking a deep, cathartic breath. “I like Option A, the one with the burgundies, evergreens and dark, distressed furniture.”

“That’s my favorite as well. I was hoping you’d go for that one.” Martina nodded decidedly. “When do you want me to place the order?”

“Now.” Smiling ear to ear, Rachael pocketed her phone. “When will it be ready?”

Oh my heavens, this was actually happening.

“You could have tenants as early as next week.”

Rachael shook Martina’s hand, a sense of pride soaring through her. She’d done it. All by herself. Her parents might’ve given her the inn, but the addition was hers. She’d purchased it. She’d done the legwork to make Blue Lake Historical Inn expand from nine rooms to twenty.

As she left Dom to finish painting and Martina pulled away from the front of the inn, Rachael darted upstairs to get ready for Cole’s concert. Tonight, she was going to celebrate. She would let her hair down, and try not to think about the fact that Cole was leaving in the morning.

For one sparkling moment, her personal life was going to be as spectacular as her professional one.



* * *



Cole stood in the dressing room in the same jeans—handkerchief still sticking out the back—spiked vest, and combat boots he’d worn for the show last night. Through the walls, he could hear the crowd cheering, even though Ronnie hadn’t taken his seat behind the drums yet.

Tonight feels completely different from last night, Cole thought, as he guzzled a bottle of Dasani.

Even though Rachael hadn’t shown up to StoneMill yet, she might has well have been standing right next to him. Her feminine floral scent clung to him as if it had absorbed into his skin. And every time he closed his eyes, the delicate features of her face came into view. Her endearing, almond-shaped eyes. Those supple pillow-soft lips. The plumpness of her cheeks when she smiled at him.

He could dream of that angelic face every night…the way he had last night and the night before that.

“Knock, knock.” Rita pushed open the dressing room door. “You descent?”

“You know I am.”

She’d come in to give him the band’s status not five minutes ago.

She strode into the room, leaving the door gaping behind her. “Who knows what you do in here by yourself.” She stopped in the center of the room, an iPad resting in the crook of her arm. “Well get in here!”


As Cole peered out the door and into the hall, the most gorgeous blonde he’d ever seen came into view. She wore tall black heels, a slinky charcoal-gray dress that brushed her ankles. Silver bracelets gathered at her wrist and blonde ringlets fell in tousled waves past her shoulders.

Rachael.

Holy Ibanez, he had to pick his jaw off the floor.

“Hey,” she said, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “I just wanted to say good luck. Or break a leg, or whatever it is you say to singers before they go on stage.”