Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(57)

Was any of it true?

*

By the end of the week, my numb dejection has faded to a heavy grief that’s knotted, just behind my ribcage. I’m doing my best to hide it, especially today: I’m up the coast in Beachwood Bay, where Ash Callahan’s development company is based. Even in this state, I managed to kill my pitch for his new properties in town, and now he’s showing me around a plot he has right by the ocean to discuss the plans to build. I have no idea if I’ve landed the exclusive on his properties yet, but I’m guessing being invited back for a second conversation means I’m close.

“This is a beautiful spot,” I agree, standing at the top of the dunes. It feels good to be out of town for the day, not worried about running into Will. “How much is yours?”

Ash points way in the distance. “From the hill, right up to the fence there. About five acres in all.”

“And what are you planning?” I ask. “You know, a plot like this would be perfect for something commercial, a hotel maybe.”

He chuckles then, his usually-stern expression lightening. “Don’t let my wife hear you say that,” he grins. “She already won the war.”

I must look confused, because he nods to the property next door, a quaint little guesthouse I passed on my way here. “She owns the B&B,” he explains. “Last time I tried to build a fancy hotel here, she turned the whole town against me. It’s how we met,” he grins affectionately, clearly not holding a grudge.

“Ah, got it. So what do you want to do here?” I ask, looking around. The land is pristine right now, which is a little weird – usually developers don’t bring in real estate agents until a project is close to done.

“I’m interested in what you think,” Ash says, looking at me expectantly. “What would you put here?”

Suddenly, I realize: this is the test. It’s one thing to take a look at finished home and pitch the usual open houses, brochures and website, but I’m guessing Callahan wants something more from whoever he works with.

I look around again, trying to see what he does in the empty grassland and dirt trails. The views are incredible, the wide sweep of the bay unfolding in front of us, fringed in pristine sand and the wild Atlantic coast. Aside from the B&B and a cluster of older homes dotted back towards town, there isn’t anything built to ruin the wild, windswept feel of the landscape.

That’s it.

“Well, I’m guessing we’d be working with some pretty strict planning regulations,” I start, and I’m rewarded with a smiling twitch of his lips. Bingo! “That means we want to keep things simple. Sparse. You could try and cram a whole subdivision here, but that doesn’t seem like your style.”

Especially if he gave up on a slick ocean-front hotel for the sake of that rambling old B&B.

“I would say three, maybe four homes, max.” I point, tracing in the air, “Use the natural hills of the landscape to make them feel secluded and tucked away. But none of those modern glass and chrome monsters, use different designs for each of them to keep everything rustic and beachy, like they’ve been here for years. High end, of course,” I add, “but different. Exclusive. Beachwood Bay has such a great old-school feel to it, it’s like stepping back in time, and I know a lot of people would pay top dollar for that down-to-earth feel.”

Rustic. Down to earth. I’m thinking of Will now, but at least I can tell from the smile on Ash’s face, we’re on the same page. “I can’t tell you how many guys I’ve had out here, telling me to put up condos and a waterpark,” he says, wry.

“Sure, you’d made a ton more money that way, but I’m guessing you have enough already.”

He laughs at that. “Come on,” he says, starting to head back towards the B&B. “I’ve got some plans I can show you. I’d love to bring clients in early, people who want to play a part in the design, make it their dream home.”

“Does this mean I get the listings?” I ask, still uncertain.

He gives me a smile. “Yes, you do. Congratulations.”

I shake his hand, and say all the right things about how I’ll deliver just what he needs, but I still feel so detached. I should be on top of the world, chomping at the bit now that I’ve closed this deal and come one step closer to taking over the business, but somehow, all I can think about is how Will is the one who landed me this break: singing my praises to him, supportive to the core.

I follow Ash back to the B&B. Close up, it’s even more charming, with roses growing up the walls, a white picket fence—and something delicious wafting in the air. “Good timing.” Ash rubs his hands together gleefully. “It’s afternoon tea.”

We step inside, and he makes straight for the back patio area.

“Dee!” I hear a familiar voice cry. It’s Lottie, gathered around with a group of other women and their young kids, all about my age. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“I just had a meeting—” I gesture to Ash. He’s gone to greet one of the women with a kiss.

“What a great coincidence,” Lottie beams. “Come sit, have some tea. This is my moms’ group.”

One of the women groans. “Don’t say that, it makes me feel like I should chop all my hair off and buy a minivan.”