Chapter 1
ADAM
God, I love this land.
The frigid morning air burns my lungs. Spring is right around the corner, but that doesn’t mean much in this valley town surrounded by the Rocky Mountains.
I can't believe I ever considered leaving.
The cold, mountain terrain is in my blood.
Our small town in northern Montana is the last glimpse of civilization before entering the folds of mother nature.
We see our fair share of tourists during the summer months.
In July and August, a constant flow of visitors ready to lose—or find—themselves in the beauty of Glacier National Park vacation in Watercress Falls.
The rest of the year, all that remain are locals—those born and raised in the bitter arms of wilderness. Maybe that's why I love the winter months so much—quiet solitude.
I stop on the sidewalk to take in the cold one last time and breathe deep.
The burn runs down my throat and settles in my chest. I hold it in my lungs and let the cold burn smolder like embers in a dying fire.
On the exhale, the now warm air tickles my throat.
A smile covers my face, and I turn my head toward the glow of the sun.
The extended winters are too harsh for most, but not for me. The freezing cold air makes me feel alive.
I step inside the only coffee shop and bakery in town.
Sweet Cakes & Coffee serves the best coffee in the valley.
Stopping by every weekday morning on my way to the office to get my coffee and sugar fix became a habit after my continued failure to make a good pot of coffee at home.
I don’t care that it’s completely out of the way.
Not only does the owner, Rachel, make the best coffee, she’s also a talented, self-taught pastry chef.
Her chocolate croissants are to die for.
On Fridays, I always take a few extra to get me through the weekend since I don’t typically make it into town on Saturdays and Sundays.
A wave of heat brushes across my cheeks, and my nostrils flare at the sweet smell of yeast and sugar baking in the back ovens.
The shop is busy for a Tuesday morning. Typically, the seating area is sparse with guests, but today the only open seat is a stool at the front counter next to Rachel’s husband, Ricky—a long-time friend and colleague.
Ricky was raised a rancher and trained as an electrician.
He considered starting his own company but couldn’t give up ranching.
It’s in his blood, too. Plus, he and Rachel have their hands full with her business.
He works at my parents’ ranch part-time, helps me with custom remodels in need of heating and electrical upgrades, and co-runs the coffee shop with his wife.
“Hey, Ricky.” I slap his back and sit in the empty stool beside him.
“Mornin’,” Ricky mumbles between bites of his pastry. “Whatcha up to today?”
“Potential new client.” I wave at Rachel, and she gives me her typical big grin. She sets a coffee and pastry in front of me without me needing to place my order. “Thanks. Someone bought the old Harris Chalet.”
“That run down piece of shit?” Ricky raises his brows. “Brave soul.”
“I’m hopeful it won’t be that bad. The new owner sent me the inspection, and it wasn’t as bad as I would’ve expected, considering it's been vacant for nearly a decade.” I smile as I savor the first bite of my chocolate croissant.
Even after ten years in Chicago, I never found a croissant as good as Rachel’s.
“I just hope they have a realistic budget. It’s gonna cost a pretty penny to restore. ”
“You gonna need my help?”
“Oh, yeah.” I chuckle. “This is definitely going to take a full crew. I didn’t get a detailed plan from the owners, but from the emails, they seem to understand it will require a lot of work.
Needs all new electrical. The old furnace still works, but they need a new one.
Most of the fireplaces need repairing, too.
I think the bones are good, but I’m not sure how extensive of a remodel they want. I’ll know for sure after today.”
Ricky regards me over the rim of his glasses. “Heard from the Chicago guy yet?”
“Craig? I meet with him in a couple weeks. Gotta finish the sketches of the concept first. I hope he bites.”
I love remodels, but architectural design is my passion.
I’ve always dreamed of designing a mountain resort.
The concept of creating a structure that flows and blends into the existing slopes of the mountains, trees, and rocks is the ultimate goal for my designs.
Instead of altering the landscape, I’ll use nature to enhance the buildings and structures we place on the land.
That vision is what drove me to study architecture in the first place.
It’s taken me over two decades to get an opportunity of this magnitude, and I’ve been killing myself for weeks to make sure my concept will win me the contract.
Choosing to remain in my secluded hometown in the mountains inevitably stalled my career goals.
There aren’t a lot of opportunities to design mountain resorts in this small town and it’s even harder to make a name for myself.
Had I remained in Chicago, I would have gotten an opportunity like this years ago, though the city would’ve devoured my soul and killed my creativity.
Here in Watercress Falls, most of my jobs are basic remodels, with the occasional custom mountain cabin to design.
My career is fulfilling, and by most standards I’m successful, but I’ve always wanted more.
The desire of my youth to build magnificent structures that work within the existing environment challenges and pushes me to never give up on my ultimate dream of designing truly unique and natural architecture.
I’m not getting that from my current contracts.
This job will put me into a new playing field I desperately want to be a part of.
“Can you handle both jobs?” Ricky asks.
“I don’t have either of them yet.” Leave it to Ricky to be practical. I can’t think like that.
Owning my own custom remodel and design company is hard work.
I already lost too much to keep this dream alive when I chose to leave the city for my small hometown, and I sure as hell won’t turn down either of these jobs just because it’s hard.
And it will be grueling. “But if I get them, I’ll figure it out. ”
Ricky pats me on the back and smiles. “You’re not as young as you used to be, don’t get in over your head.” He always enjoys reminding me how much older I am than him.
“I’m not that old, asshole.” I might be the old man of our group of friends, but at forty-seven, I don’t feel old. I work hard to stay in shape. Plus, having younger siblings and helping out at the family horse ranch keeps me young. “I can still kick your ass.”
Ricky laughs. “True enough.”
“Hey, Rachel. Can I get a half a dozen chocolate croissants to go? Figured I’d introduce this potential client to your pastries.” I pull out a few bills and toss them on the counter. “I better head out. I’m supposed to meet them at the old chalet soon, and I still need to run by the office.”
“Sure thing, hon.” Rachel boxes up the pastries and hands me a to go coffee. “Coffee’s on the house.”
“You’re too good to me.” I pull a few more bills out of my wallet and toss them down with the others. She always tries to give me free coffee, and I refuse to let her.
“Now stop that.” She slaps at my hands and shoves half the money back at me. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” I groan.
Ricky chuckles in his seat. “Dude, don’t fight with her. You’ll lose.”
“And if you make me mad,” Rachel wags a finger at me with a forced scowl, “I’ll set you up on another date. So, don’t push me.”
“Fine.” I shudder as I recall the mousy, tiny woman she set me up with a year ago.
It had been the longest two hours of my life.
We had nothing in common, and she answered all my attempts at conversation with one-word responses.
No, thank you. I shove the money back in my pocket like the gracious man that I am.
“Thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you tomorrow. ”
“Later, man.”
I nod and turn toward the door to hide my smile. Ricky and Rachel are good people and even better friends. I’m lucky to have them in my life.
I step outside and turn toward my truck.
I don’t make it two steps before someone crashes into me, knocking the box of croissants out of one hand and spilling my hot coffee on the other.
The box flies into the air, and a pair of delicate hands swoops in and catches it before falling into my arms. My free hand instinctively wraps around her small frame and holds her tight to my chest.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I shift my eyes toward the soft apologetic voice that has me momentarily paralyzed.
The palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen stare up at me.
They glisten like the color of thick ice after a hard freeze.
Shimmery silver streaks frame her otherwise dark brown hair around her face and lighten her blue eyes even more.
Despite the silver-gray hair, her skin is smooth aside from the faint creases around her smiling mouth.
My chin brushes across the top of her head as I balance her in my arms.
I hold my gaze on her. The sparkle in her eyes fades, and the pale blue color shifts to a dark gray. She closes her eyes as her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.
“You okay?” My voice comes out low and rough. She presses her free hand against my chest, and I tremble. Holy hell. I silently beg for her to open her eyes again so I can study her icy blue stare.
My head drops closer to hers as I breathe in her scent of vanilla and spice. Damn. She smells like a cookie. I try to open my mouth to speak but the words catch in my throat. Nothing more than a faint grumble escapes.