A Corporate Town
Jordy
Two more days.
The thought drifts in as I wake to the warmth of Ashton’s body pressed against mine. Today and part of tomorrow. That’s all I have left before Alexander flies in. Then I’ll be tied up with whatever he needs me to do until I board the plane on Sunday to head back home.
But how can New York be home to me anymore? I’ve changed too much in the time I’ve been here. Do I even fit there anymore?
I open my eyes and catch Ashton watching me. Just like he always does when he wakes up first. Despite myself, I can’t help the giddiness in the pit of my belly, or the smile on my face.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask.
“Not long,” he says. He wraps an arm between my legs and the other under me, and in one swift motion, scoots me closer to him.
I squeal at the strength of him, my body already responding.
Every part of me fits within his embrace, molding against his firm torso.
“Long enough to see you overthink everything that just happened before you opened your eyes.”
I laugh. “Am I that transparent?”
“If you ruminated much longer, you’d probably be packed and halfway to the airport by now.”
I lean forward and kiss his nose, and then his mouth. “No way. I’d at least wait long enough for one of your famous omelets.”
I have this intense urge to wrap myself around him. I look into his eyes, and his gaze is warm—soft—like someone I could fall into and never recover.
And it scares me to death.
What if I feel more than he does? A memory flashes in my mind of the moment my ex told me he was seeing someone else, before I knew that someone else was my cousin. I didn’t see it coming. I’d been planning our wedding, and Brayden had been off fucking Nina.
I can’t fall for Ashton. Even if he feels the same way, this just doesn’t make sense. If I don’t pull the reins now, we’ll be facing a messy goodbye full of heartache and broken promises.
“I can’t begin to thank you for these past few weeks,” I say, leaning up to playfully bite his lip. “You’ve definitely been the highlight of this trip. Honestly, you might be the part I’ll miss most.”
He pulls back, looking me over. “A highlight? What, like a stop on your tour of Lahoma Springs?”
The look on his face is enough to make me regret saying anything. But I can’t keep this thing between us—whatever it is—going.
I swallow hard, then force a smile. “We’re just having fun, right?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he also doesn’t pull away. He seems to ponder my words, and the pause confuses me.
“I mean, we live on separate coasts,” I continue. “Your whole life is here, and mine is in New York.” I sit up on my elbows, pull the covers over my chest. “It’s not that I don’t care for you, I do. If we lived closer, this would make a lot more sense, but—”
“Stop,” he laughs. He squeezes me closer, bringing my face to his chest as he kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need to explain yourself. Yes, we’re having fun. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to propose marriage or anything.”
As crazy as it is, these words offer me little relief. In fact, it makes me feel disappointed.
“Right,” I say, looking up. He leans down and kisses my lips softly.
“You’re here right now, though,” he says, then kisses me again. “And I’m here with you.”
My mouth quirks into a small smile. “It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity just because we don’t have a future.”
His eyes shift as he looks into mine, and he takes a deep breath before smiling. He smooths my hair from my face, then rests his hand under my chin.
“A damn shame.” Then he kisses me long and deep, drawing me closer until I’m on top of him. “Why don’t we make use of this opportunity now before Lottie wakes up, and before I go to work?”
An hour later, fully sated, we both enjoy our first sips of coffee over the center island. Lottie is already at Bec’s house, which I know Ashton did so we could have more time alone together. I love that little girl, but I’ll take every moment I can with her father.
He makes the requested omelet, along with toast and sausages rolled up in crepes. It’s still so early, the sky is still dark, but I’m getting used to these rancher hours.
“Can I come with you to feed the animals?” I ask.
He takes one look at me in my silk robe.
“In that?”
I throw a piece of toast at him, and he laughs as he dodges it.
“I have all those thrift store clothes Michael and Grace got me.”
He tilts his head. “Yeah, but this is a dirty job, I don’t want you to ruin your clothes.”
“I can wear something of yours.”
He laughs at this, then stands so he’s towering over me. He has almost half a foot on me, and his body is twice as broad as mine. “You’ll drown in any of my clothes, but you can wear something of Sasha’s. I might have something left here.”
I roll my eyes, then look out the window.
I don’t really want to. I’ve already had to borrow clothes from his ex too many times, and I’ve never met the woman—nor do I want to. But I also don’t want to ruin any of my clothes, even the secondhand ones.
So I agree, and he goes off to his bedroom to rummage through his closet.
My phone pings while he’s gone, and I look down to see Alexander calling me.
“Hey stranger,” he says when I pick up. “Are you going out of your mind there, or what?”
“No, it’s been nice,” I say. That’s an understatement. It has been so much more than nice. “Lahoma Springs is a really cute town. I can’t believe you ever left it.”
“Believe it,” he grunts. “The moment I left that place, I never looked back. I think I’m just too sophisticated for a behind-the-times cow town like Lahoma. New York is way more my speed. I bet you can’t want to get back.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Ashton comes in at that moment, holding a pair of overalls and a thermal.
“There’s some boots that will fit you in the porch bin where I keep the shoes,” he says.
Then he sees the phone in my hand, and makes a quiet motion.
He leans forward and kisses my cheek. “I’ll go shower,” he whispers, then leaves for the bathroom.
“Are you there with someone?” Alexander asks.
A million thoughts run through my head in all of a few seconds.
I have no idea how Alexander will react if he knows I’m sleeping with someone while on a work assignment.
I’m still so new to this line of work, still trying to build my business.
What if he considers this unprofessional, and this is the last job he gives me?
He has so many connections, what if he spreads the word that I’m unreliable?
As far as he knows, I’m at the hotel, all by myself.
“It’s the housekeeper,” I say, keeping my voice low. “They came early.”
“Got it. So, is everything on track for the store?”
“It’s all in place.” I share about the work that was done in the store, plus the last of the displays he hasn’t seen yet. “All we need now is the product, and it will be ready for this Saturday’s Grand Opening.”
“Good, good,” he says. “I got your earlier photos of the interior, and I have to hand it to you, the place looks amazing. I had my doubts about mixing vintage and modern, but it really embraces the whole look of Timeless. I know this company will flourish because of your creative direction. In fact, I was thinking you could stay in Lahoma for a little longer. There are a few other businesses I’ve been talking with, and one is really close to selling, which is going to be a game changer for our future plans. ”
“Which business?” I ask. “And what future plans.”
“I can’t say anything until the papers are signed, but it’s a big one,” he says. “As for the future, I’m in the works to make Lahoma Springs a corporate town.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means we’ll turn the town into a tourist shopping destination.
The location is perfect—right there on the river.
We could cruise people in from San Francisco, offer them the whole small-town experience.
Think boutique hotels, farm-to-table restaurants, curated experiences. It’s Lahoma, elevated.”
He sounds so sure of himself, like he’s pitching the next great idea.
“I’m bringing opportunity to that town. It’s stagnant, Jordy. I’m giving it a future.”
“That’s the opposite of charming,” I say. “What will you do with all the family-owned businesses here? How will they fit into this?”
“Are you not listening? They’ll be set up really well when I buy their businesses. It’s a drop in the bucket for me. When I bought that seed shop, it was for a wing and a prayer—though they acted like I gave them the moon. It showed me I could keep doing this and eventually own the town.”
I take a few deep breaths, feeling lightheaded from everything he’s saying. I’m not well-versed in business dealings, but this one sounds completely rotten and all bad news.
“I don’t understand, you grew up here. You left because you hated it. But now you’re buying it out? Do you have any idea what this will do to the people here?”
“Jordy, this is business, nothing more.” He pauses, and I hear him give a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m not forcing anyone to sell. But if they do, I’ll compensate them generously. I’m investing in my childhood hometown. This is a good thing. Why can’t you see that?”
I’m silent for a moment, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
I think of Michael—how he clawed his way back from cancer and heartbreak, pouring himself into that lush, green shop full of plants and second chances.
I think of Grace, on the cusp of becoming Lahoma Springs’ most celebrated artist, and of Griffin, who creates culinary masterpieces with local beef and garden-grown vegetables, feeding his community with care.
I even think of Bernie, how she protected her town’s legacy and the people in it.
I think of every person I’ve met over the past few weeks—how they showed up for one another, how they picketed the Felix’s shop when it changed hands to corporate interests. How they believed small didn’t mean insignificant.
“You’re suggesting something really awful,” I say, my voice low but steady. “You have no idea how special Lahoma Springs is.”
Alexander laughs. “Did they brainwash you with a tractor ride and a barn dance or something? You haven’t even been there a month. I lived there for years. Don’t act like you know more about that town than I do.”
I let out an unsteady breath, my hands shaking with anger.
“Look, nothing’s set in stone,” he says, his tone shifting. “This is just an idea I’m floating. I’m putting out feelers, seeing what’s possible. It doesn’t mean anything yet, and I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything to anyone while you’re there.”
“That’s not fa—”
“Fair?” he cuts in. “Yes, it is. You signed an NDA when you started working with me. That includes discussions about anything related to Winslow & Associates. We’ll talk more about this when I get there tomorrow.”