“I’m trying.” I shrug. “It definitely needed a makeover. That, and I wanted it to feel like it was somewhat mine. I know that sounds silly, but . . . it’s always been Gran and Pop’s. Updating it, bringing a little more life to it, makes me feel like I’ve contributed to it somehow.”

  “I can understand that. It’s admirable.” He pulls me against his side and presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you. I truly am.”

  “Thanks.” I glance back at his car and then to him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a busy day.”

  “I did. I do.” He nods. “But I wanted to see you more.”

  My heart lurches in my throat. I always want to see him, but as of late, protecting my heart is of equal importance. Telling myself to enjoy the time we have left and not stress about what comes next is one thing. Actually listening and believing it, is a whole other thing. In fact, it’s brutal to want someone so badly—to be with him and enjoy him and laugh with him—while acknowledging that each second we spend together, I fall a little harder for him. And hate that one day he’ll be gone.

  “You know how to make a girl feel special. I’d never complain about a visit from you.” I smile while admiring the sheer beauty of him.

  How am I ever going to let him go?

  “Do you have time to break away for lunch?” he asks.

  “I can’t,” I say, as much for self-preservation as I do for truth. “These guys will be here for the next hour hanging new signage. I have to be here. Can we meet up later?”

  “I have a dinner meeting.”

  “I can leave the key under the mat for you for when it’s over?”

  Ledger

  The house is quiet when I open the front door to Asher’s house. The kitchen light is on, its funky chandelier creating crazy shadows on the white shiplapped walls as I make my way up the stairs.

  I stop in the doorway.

  She’s asleep, lying on her side, with her hair fanned out across the white pillowcase. Her shoulder is bare, the pale pink of her lips parted, as her even breathing fills the room.

  I welcome the blissful silence. Normally I can’t stand the quiet, but here, on the farm, there is something about it that makes it ring differently for me. Or maybe it’s just Asher who does that.

  Quieting my head is an impossible feat most days. My thoughts never stop. To-do lists are constantly being added to. Facts are thought of, figures are worked through. Details are being defined.

  It’s how I work.

  It’s who I am.

  And yet this is the only place I’ve ever been where the silence soothes rather than grates. It’s even more potent in the mornings when I wake before Ash and simply enjoy watching her sleep. Holding her. Loving her—fuck.

  Is that why I was so angry with my brothers at the fundraiser? Did they see it when I refused to?

  I love her.

  How did I never see it before? I’m in love with Asher Wells.

  The same girl I was in love with fifteen years ago.

  The question is, what am I going to do about it?

  I undress, unable to take my eyes off her, slip into bed behind her, and pull her against me.

  “I love you,” I whisper against the back of her head.

  I love you, yet I have no fucking clue what to do about it.

  Asher

  “Miss Wells?”

  “Yes. Hi. This is Asher.”

  “It’s Hillary from Sharpe International.”

  My heart leaps in my throat. I take a step back from the entrance to City Hall and away from other Cedar Falls citizens as they file into the meeting. “Hi. How are you?”

  “Good. Thank you. Over the past few weeks, I’ve taken serious consideration of your proposal. I’ve gone over the details and market comparisons. I’ve weighed whether its added value is beneficial for our clientele . . .”

  I sigh with anxious anticipation.

  “And I wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to move forward with your proposal.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, we have.” She pauses. “Of course, it’s contingent on you completing the improvements you outlined in your presentation. An asphalt drive and parking lot. Chairs and tables for both a ceremony and reception. A kitchen to house caterers.”

  “Of course. Yes.” I’m stunned. I’m thrilled. I’m terrified. Holy. Shit. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”

  “I have a feeling it will be a hugely successful option we offer to our guests. Nothing says wealthy clientele like ones who pay for luxury and then want a little piece of grandiose country thrown in. The Fields will be perfect for that.”

  “I’m thinking that’s a compliment?”

  She laughs. “Yes, that’s a compliment. It means it’s luxurious but at the same time classic Cedar Falls.”

  “So, what do I do now?”

  “Legal will be drawing up contracts in the coming weeks, and then we’ll go from there.”

  “Okay. Yes. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I—”

  “I look forward to visiting it myself. I’m sure it will—Oh, shoot. My apologies. I have to cut this short. I have to take this call. We’ll talk soon.”

  And before I can ask the question—does Ledger know about it?—she hangs up.

  I want to do a mini-jig on the sidewalk but settle with an ear-to-ear grin.

  Then, of course, reality hits. The loan. My loan. I still haven’t gotten an approval yet.

  I tap my cell phone against my chin as I accept the high but fear for the low.

  I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  I’m not going to let anything ruin my mood today.

  Ledger

  Mayor Grossman acts like an anointed king as he walks through City Hall shaking hands and laughing like a pompous ass. It’s a sight, that’s for sure. One I can’t help notice as I scan the auditorium. Where are you, Ash?

  She said she’d be here. Why don’t I see her?

  Tootie’s here though. I catch her eye from across the room, and she waves at me. It’s when I look back to where Mayor Grossman is still on his look at me parade that I get a closer look at the man whose back he’s patting and shoulder he’s squeezing. There’s something about him that I can’t quite place.

  “Hey, who’s that?” I ask the city recorder who happens to be walking next to me.

  “That’s the mayor’s son,” she says as she walks past to take her place at her desk. “Jason Grossman.”

  Jason.

  Tootie had said that name too.

  While the name hits my ears and falls flat, there is something about the man that I can’t quite place. Is he a contractor for the resort? One of the protestors who heckled me last week? Did I see him at Hank’s that first night?

  Just as Mayor Grossman takes his seat on the dais and pounds his gavel to get the meeting started, it hits me.

  No fucking way.

  I take another look at Jason. Sure, he’s aged some, but I never forgot that smug, condescending mouth of his. Or the nose with a slight crook in it.

  Jason. He’s the kid whose nose I broke sixteen years ago. The prick who talked shit about and disrespected Asher.

  How didn’t I see it sooner? The face structure, the same mouth shape, the beady eyes. Jason, the kid I punched years ago for disrespecting Asher, is Mayor Grossman’s son.

  Motherfucker.

  Is that what all of this has been about?

  Some kind of long-overdue vendetta put into motion by a pissed-off father? Is it his warped way of trying to get back at me for putting that bump in his son’s nose?

  Maybe he should have taught his son some manners. Some respect. Then again, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  Jesus Christ.

  Seriously? This is why we’re being put through these ridiculous paces?

  Mayor Grossman calls the meeting to order, but I miss half of the bullshit pomp and circumstance he says for posture because I’m too busy trying to figure out what to do and how to play this. Anger has me wanting to call the mayor on this publicly. It has me angling on how I can broadcast that their elected official is a petty, simpleminded asshole.

  Logic and professionalism have me taking a step back.

  It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

  As much as I’d personally like to let the whole town know who they are dealing with, I have a feeling they already know. No doubt he’s shown his true colors before, and yet, they still elected him.

  I, on the other hand, have a business I need to run here. A business that we’ve sunk a shit ton of money into and can’t risk losing our occupancy permit because I stoop to his level. So as much as it pains me, I’m going to have to take the high road on this.

  But that doesn’t stop me from glaring at Jason until I swear he can feel it. He looks up and meets my eyes. I simply stare at him. I don’t make an expression at all other than to let him know that I see him, and understand what all this bullshit is about—to position his dad well for reelection and to exact petty revenge.

  “And now to the matter at hand,” Mayor Grossman says, pulling my attention to him and the council members on either side of him. “We met last month to discuss the necessary changes that Sharpe International and The Retreat needed to make to warrant getting a final inspection and in turn, an occupancy permit. Mr. Sharpe, the floor is yours.”

  I walk over to the lectern, clear my throat, and begin. “I’ve enjoyed my last six weeks here in Cedar Falls. While I’m a city boy at heart, there is a reason my brothers and I wanted to buy a resort here and contribute not only to the town’s future, but also to its overall success.” I take the next few minutes to bullshit. About the charm I’ve found here in Cedar Falls and its citizens who love their town. About the potential to make this partnership beneficial for the town as a whole. About S.I.N.’s philosophy and goal with The Retreat beyond a healthy profit margin.

  “That’s all well and good,” the mayor says when I finish my spiel, “but what about the specific requests this council made?”

  Smile wide, Ledger, and prepare to kiss more ass.

  “As per your request, Mayor Grossman, and in accordance with our promise, S.I.N. has been contracting local contractors and employing Cedar Falls’s citizens and will continue to do so upon opening to the public. In addition, we’ve made significant strides in two areas we’d like to share with you. We were excited to have the opportunity to contribute to this town we are now a member of. With that in mind, we chose to focus on two aspects that will shape and have shaped this town. We are currently in the throes of overhauling and renovating the Cedar Falls Elementary School Library. It’ll be a complete makeover—expanded in size, content, and capacity. Our other focus is the Cedar Falls Assisted Living Facility. Their HVAC system is in dire need of being replaced for temperature control and air filtration. We’ve made a sizeable donation to get that overhauled in the coming weeks with as little disruption to the tenants as possible.”

  “And that’s been completed?”

  “We’re not miracle workers, sir. We can’t complete projects with such complexities as these two that fast due to scheduling with local subcontractors who are already contracted elsewhere. But rest assured, as you can see in the documentation we provided to you and your fellow councilpersons, contracts have been signed, deposits have been made, and the work is scheduled. Feel free to contact the contractors for verification, but I do believe all the necessary backup has been provided and is already in your hands.”

  “I see,” he murmurs with a nod, eyes steadfast on me as if he doesn’t believe me. But the audience is silent now. No more whispers or chuckles like before, and so with the hopes that the tide is turning in our favor, I keep going so I don’t lose them.

  “In addition to these contributions, we’re in the process of contracting local vendors to provide goods and or services to our guests. The hope is that our guests will experience or like something they see or sample in the resort itself—whether it be in one of our many retail shops, art that is displayed throughout the facility, or a package with local excursion companies—and in turn, venture into Cedar Falls to spend more of their money.”

  “And what companies have you enlisted for this?”

  Hillary’s assistant, who accompanied me to the meeting, flips through the pages of the handout the council members received and points to the one with said list. “We have provided you with the list in your packet, but would love for the citizens to hear them as well,” I say. “Bessie’s baked goods will be sold in our coffee shop. Jenner’s Juicery will also sell items there as well. Our restaurant and café will be exclusively using ice cream from The Creamery in town. A list of local artists is also provided who we’ll showcase in various locations throughout the resort. We’ll have inclusive packages for guests with Cedar Falls Ski Resort, Cedar Falls Outdoor Adventures, and—” My mind stumbles when I see The Fields as next on the list. Why is that there? I look up and glance around the room and find Asher. She offers me a reassuring smile, but I stare at her confused.

  “Mr. Sharpe? Is there a problem?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Where was I? Yes. We’ll be offering venue packages with The Fields as well as Mountain High Club.”

  “That’s an impressive list,” the mayor says as I look back to Asher, questioning her across the room about what’s going on.

  It all makes sense now. The barn restoration. The strung lights. The new signage. Her insomnia and late-night work.

  Dare I say I’m kind of hurt? That this was all going on and I didn’t know about it? That Hillary knew about it and didn’t tell me?

  Asher did this and didn’t trust me knowing about it. She didn’t want to share it with me.

  It takes everything I have to focus back on the meeting at hand and not walk over to her, pull her outside, and ask her what the fuck?

  “Does anyone have anything to say for or against The Retreat or Sharpe International that you want on the official record?”

  Are we going to do this? Let the townspeople speak or rally together with a mob mentality?

  I glance back over to Asher again. I can’t help it. And she meets my gaze with equal confusion and hurt that I don’t understand.

  A throat clears in the microphone, and with a shake of my head, I force myself to pay attention to business instead of personal. “Mr. Mayor. While I understand about profit and tourism, I still feel that Mr. Sharpe and his company, are going to plant the seeds of ruin in our town,” the dowdy woman at the microphone says with a definitive nod. “He says he’s going to do all these things, but once he gets his permit, he’ll do whatever he wants.” There are a few murmured agreements from the audience.

  She has a point. We’re beholden to no one once we have our occupancy permit, but I don’t exactly think that’s the best thing to say at this juncture.

  I look around and am about to take a step to the microphone to defend myself when Tootie walks to the lectern.

  “For the record, I just want to say that Ledger will do what he says he’s going to do. I cursed in front of him, and he said he wouldn’t tell my momma and he hasn’t yet.” She puts her hands on her hips and clears her throat. “Also, he hired me to tell him everything we wanted and needed in our school library. He wouldn’t back out and let me down.” Tootie looks over at me and smiles. “That’s all.”

  As she walks back to her seat, the dowdy woman steps back up. “She’s a child. She can be easily manipulated.”

  “I believe him,” Asher says, rising from her seat and making her way to the podium once all eyes are on hers. “He’s come here to adhere to your ridiculous requests, Mayor Grossman. He’s done what you’ve asked for and then some. He’s contributed to the community. He’s brought in local talent. He’s tried to create residual income for others. What more is it that you want from him?”

  Grossman emits a condescending chortle that has me gritting my teeth. “Of course, you’d say that since you’re sleeping with him.”

  “Excuse me?” she says, holding her finger up at me when I rise to my feet in her defense.

  “Honey—”

  “Asher,” she corrects him. “My name is Asher. Not Honey.”

  He clears his throat. “While I’m sure your um . . . friend appreciates your unwavering support, I think the city council shouldn’t take business advice from someone who can’t even secure a bank loan to keep their farm afloat.”

  There is a hushed silence that falls across the crowd. The kind that says they’re digging in for the gossip that’s unfolding.

  But all I hear from Grossman is can’t secure a bank loan to keep their farm afloat.

  My hands fist. A myriad of emotions flickers over Asher’s face as the mayor just denigrated her in front of the town. Humiliated her, just as my father once did.

  I start to move toward her, to defend her, to . . . I don’t fucking know, but Asher levels me with a look and mouths the word No. I never stood up for her all those years ago. I sure as fuck am going to now.

  “You want to come at me,” I say, my voice loud enough I don’t need a microphone. Everyone’s heads swivel to look my way. “Then come at me. That’s fine. But leave Asher out of it.”

  “I can handle myself, Ledger,” Asher says, her voice steely, her expression stoic. “Mayor Grossman here is simply trying to put me in my place where he thinks all good little women should be. He’d rather I keep quiet because he’s terribly afraid that I might be the result of an affair he had with my mother some thirty-odd years ago.” That sends a ripple of murmurs through the audience and causes the mayor’s face to turn red and his sputters to become incoherent. “For the record, even if you were my father, I’d refuse to claim you. I’ve been shamed enough in my life over things I had no control over . . . but I could control that. And I sure as hell would.”