Chapter 2
Midas
The wind whipped the ends of my hair around my face in warning. While summer had not yet ended, the fresh bite in the air warned it would soon be too cold to enjoy the water. But it wouldn’t stop me from combing the beach in search of the myriad treasures tossed to the shore by the waves.
Where Max, Hunter, Hawkley, and Noelle hunted those flat gray rocks and spent hours developing the perfect arc for the maximum number of skips across the waves, I searched for sea glass, heart-shaped rocks, and the ever-elusive wishing stone.
Over my thirty-six years, I’d amassed quite a collection.
There was only one I ever parted from, and there wasn’t a single day in the last decade I didn’t regret it.
True wishing stones were the hardest to come by and should never be hoarded once their magic was tapped.
Heart-shaped rocks held no mystery, but they caught my eye just the same.
Mine sat in a pretty china dish on my bookshelf.
Placed beside my romance novels, they were a good reminder that a heart of stone is not so easily broken, and that romance, like dreams and wishes, is best indulged in between the pages of a good book and not for mere mortals like me.
Pretty glass jars filled with mermaid tears lined my windowsill, lit by the rising sun every morning. Amber, teal, crystalline, and brilliant blue shards of glass dulled by time, worn by sand, and tossed by the waves kept me company.
And I sought them religiously.
Ditching my sandals, I rolled up my pants.
I had twenty minutes to walk the shoreline before I was due back at work.
My feet left prints in the wet sand and the waves kissed my toes, frothy bubbles sparkling brightly under the late summer sun.
I searched for treasure, my eyes trained to the ground as I mulled over my workload for the afternoon.
“Harley.”
That damn butterfly took off at the sound of his voice. My head snapped up. “Daire! What are you doing here?”
He grinned at me easily and teased, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was Harley’s private property.”
I looked him over and immediately decided men should not be permitted to wear jeans barefoot.
Irritated at how good he looked, and what it did to me, I replied, “It should be.”
The muscles in his arms flexed as he crossed them over his broad chest. Long legs encased in denim and a fitted white t-shirt did amazing things for his arms and drew my eyes like a magnet.
When my gaze finally returned to his face, he winked at me.
I blushed but forged ahead boldly. I’d be damned if I let his pretty face cow me. “You can’t blame me.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged and braved my way through. “Man candy is man candy, Daire. If you’re going to walk around looking that good, women are going to look at you.”
He barked out a laugh. “I look good to you, Harley?”
I scoffed and turned away. “Oh, I think you know you look good to most everybody.”
“No,” he replied softly. “I didn’t know that. But it’s good to hear.”
An awkward silence settled between us.
I shuffled along stiffly. I was being ridiculous. There was no need for this juvenile timidity. I was a grown woman and I’d hung out with Daire on numerous occasions in the two months he’d called Sage Ridge home.
But I’d never, not once, been alone with him.
And being alone with him now reminded me of the places my dreams took us when I turned out the lights.
His feet entered my peripheral vision. “What are you looking for?”
“Sea glass,” I answered perfunctorily. “There used to be a glass factory on the other side of the lake. When the waves are high, they bring in a ton of sea glass.”
He bent low and picked up a piece of frosted teal. “Is this one?”
“Yup. Probably from a bottle of mineral water or an ink jar.”
“How do you know?”
“The color.”
“It comes in different colors?”
“Yes. Mostly amber and white. Greens are harder to come by, blue and red are extremely rare.”
He offered it to me.
My eyebrows flew up as I met his dark gaze. “You don’t want it?”
He studied me for a moment.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been the recipient of his brand of attention. It unnerved me in the best and worst of ways. Shuttering my heart, I looked away.
“I think you’ll enjoy it more than I would.”
Nestled in the palm of his hand, he offered it to me.
My mouth dried. I frowned, resentful of the effect he had on me.
Not once had I ever touched him. My heart skipped a beat at the thought, that damn butterfly kicking up an unholy fuss.
He was Midas.
And I refused to be turned into a statue frozen in an eternal state of worship to him.
Despite my inner objections, some part of me wanted it. Probably the part singing the Hallelujah chorus in my pants.
The tips of my fingers grazed his wide palm.
His breath hitched.
I looked up at him sharply, but he only smiled at me benignly.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“You are more than welcome.”
I made my excuses and high-tailed it back to work early. I rolled the bit of teal through fingers that ached to touch him again.
This was not good news. As much as Noelle liked to joke, Daire was so far out of my league he may as well have been from another planet.
Tucking it into my pocket, I shook off the thought. I had bigger fish to fry. Pumping myself up, I walked down the hall to meet my dad in his office.
My dad, Dan, a giant teddy bear of a man, waited for me with open arms and a wide grin. “Come here, darlin’. Give your old dad a hug,” he bellowed.
I walked into his open arms. Closed my eyes. Here was home. Safety. The one place my heart would always be safe.
“Hi, Dad.”
He folded around me. He’d always been a hugger, openly affectionate with his wife and kids. Thankfully, that had not changed with Hunter’s passing. He just held on a little longer.
“Are we waiting for your mom?”
“Yes. That way I only have to explain once.”
“Fair enough,” he said, bending his neck to kiss the top of my head.
I told myself my nerves were unwarranted, but facts were facts, and history didn’t lie. Every time I went to my parents with a new idea for the resort, they shot me down.
My first brainchild, hosting weddings, went over like a lead balloon. To say I was disappointed was a vast understatement. Hunter and I walked the bluffs for hours while I vented.
The next day, I walked past Mom and Dad’s office and came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Hunter’s raised voice.
Hunter, the child who rarely had a serious moment, certainly never raised his voice.
“I know you want me to take over the resort, Dad, but I’m not sure that’s where I’m headed. But Harley? She wants it and she has so many great ideas.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts, Dad. She’s creative. She’s motivated. She’s determined, energetic, and driven. You’re going to have to give her some leeway or you’re going to squash her.”
I stood frozen, shocked and touched at Hunter’s passionate advocacy.
For me.
“Well, we best not squash her. She’s not all that big to begin with.”
I frowned.
Hunter chuckled.
My dad’s voice rang out. “You hear that, Harley?”
I jerked to attention, my gaze skittering left and right before finally landing on their reflection staring at mine in a mirror on the wall.
My dad threw the door open. “You’ve got your weddings.”
I tossed my hands up in the air and launched myself into my dad’s arms.
His chest reverberated with his laughter.
Hunter grinned at me behind Dad’s back and gave me a dorky double thumbs up.
Backing out of a memory that still ached, I drew away from my dad and briskly swiped under my eyes.
“You okay, darlin?”
“Yup. I was at the beach. My eyes are a bit gritty.”
“Mm,” he hummed.
Sometimes he saw too much. Thankfully, he was not much of a talker when it came to serious stuff, so I counted myself lucky.
My mom waltzed into the room. “Hi, baby. What’s up?”
There was no point in delaying. They’d either go for it, or they wouldn’t. “I want us to become more involved with the community.”
Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”
“I want us to be more personally connected. Most of our staff live here in town. Why not open the resort up a couple of times a year to our families instead of just having the Christmas party? More than that, I’d love to open to the community once or twice a year for recreational purposes.”
“It sounds like a logistical nightmare,” Dad muttered.
“How would that affect guests? Won’t it be disruptive?” Mom pursed her lips.
“I think we can work something out,” I countered.
“I’m not sure about this, Harley…”
I knew they’d balk at that one so I launched it at them first knowing they wouldn’t be able to shoot me down twice in one sitting.
“Okay, we’ll table that for now. For the fundraiser this year, I’m planning on adding an evening adults-only component with childcare provided on-site,” I rushed to finish before they could protest.
Dad looked skeptical. “Do you really think people will go for that?”
“Dad,” I huffed, exasperated. “The first year I suggested a fundraiser, you guys opposed it, but we raised enough money to get an autism service dog for Audrey Lewis. The second year we raised enough to kick off the animal shelter. The third year, we established our women’s shelter.
This year, instead of making it a strictly family affair with pony rides, face-painting, hot apple cider, and the bake sale as usual, I want to add an evening component.
A silent auction. Maybe wine and cheese.
A trivia night. I don’t know the details yet,” I rambled quickly, “but I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
“What are we raising money for this year?”
“Now, Dad, you know I never reveal that until I present the check.”
The truth was, I hadn’t quite decided.
My dad broke the silence following my impassioned plea. “Let’s think about it. We’ll come back to it next week.”
I opened my mouth to protest but he held out a hand to stay me.
“I’m not saying it’s not a good idea, I’m saying let’s talk again next week.”
“What is your hesitation?” I pushed.
My mom ran her hand over my hair. “Don’t you want something more, honey?”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
She pressed her lips together. “Work shouldn’t take up your whole life.”
My mouth fell open, shame blotching my cheeks with crimson. I sputtered, unable to come up with a response.
My dad looked on, his face pained.
“Is this about Paul?” I blurted.
Paul, the man I’d lived with for five years thinking he was my forever. The man I broke up with last Christmas after he informed me marriage was an antiquated institution.
As it turned out, I was a traditional kind of girl.
Mom scowled. “No. Good riddance to bad rubbish,” she clipped, then her voice softened. “I saw him in town-”
My hand flew up. “I don’t want to hear anything about him.”
“But—”
“Leave it alone, Lou,” my dad interrupted gruffly.
She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “Dan—"
He shook his head.
My blood iced in my veins.
I edged toward the door. “We’ll talk next week.”
Because whatever it was Mom saw?
I didn’t want to know.