Chapter 3
BOONE
Iwoke up before dawn and slipped out of Kennedy's room. I didn't know anything about her except that she was from Florida, I was addicted to her body, and I wanted to see her again.
I'd convinced myself that we could have an affair while she was here. She'd leave in a week or two, and I'd go back to my solitary existence. She'd be a blip in an otherwise staid life. Sure, I'd remember our time together, but I wouldn't be devastated when she went because I knew she was leaving.
I'd be able to compartmentalize this relationship into the length of her vacation, and I wouldn't have a problem moving on.
That was what I told myself as I pulled on my briefs, then slacks, and reached for my button-down shirt.
I watched Kennedy sleep on her stomach, her face pointed in my direction, her eyelashes long over her cheeks.
She looked so peaceful while she was sleeping.
And I wanted to touch the length of her back, dropping kisses as I went.
I wanted to wake her with my lips on her body.
Except I'd kept her up throughout the night already, and I had to get to work. Dad sent a text after his announcement last night that I was scheduled to have breakfast with Ms. Barnes.
It was the last thing I wanted to do. But I was a professional, and I'd see this thing through. I'd let this woman do her thing and hope my parents saw through her.
They'd come around. They had to.
In the meantime, I'd look forward to spending more time with Kennedy. I didn't want to leave things to chance, so I grabbed the small pad of paper on the nightstand and a pen. I wrote:
Kennedy, I have to go to work, but I'm hoping we can see each other later. — Boone.
I scribbled my phone number, then gave her one last look before walking out. I felt better than last night. The announcement didn't seem so ominous in the light of day. Not after the night I'd had.
It took the edge off having to meet with the designer this morning. The memory of the many times Kennedy and I had sex last night, and her taste on my tongue, would carry me through. I'd survive this meeting, and it was all because of Kennedy.
She was still a bit of a mystery. We hadn't talked about our jobs, only a little about our families. But I'd enjoyed hanging out with her, and I loved her body.
We had insane chemistry. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and I wanted to experience it again.
I never slept with guests. I could see how it could be a bad idea. A disgruntled guest could blast bad reviews online. But I didn't get the impression that Kennedy would ever do something like that.
I slipped on my shoes at the door, checking to ensure I had my wallet and keys. Then I opened and closed the door softly. The hallway was empty.
I ran a hand through my hair, hoping I wouldn't see any member of my family on the way out. I quickly ducked into the stairwell and took it to the exit to the back of the building. I walked around the building to my truck and went home to shower and change.
I had to refocus on what was important, convincing my parents that I should be the one to design the furniture. Hadn't we already proven that guests enjoyed learning about the history of the family and our business?
The fact that I'd designed the furniture for the brewery was a nice touch. It was something for people to talk about. No one cared about furniture that was bought from a showroom. It didn't have a story to tell.
There was no way my parents would be convinced by this outsider that her ideas were better than mine.
But there was a niggling doubt in my mind. Why had they scheduled this consultant at all? Did they not trust me? Did they want to sell the entire business to an outsider?
That sent me into a downward spiral. I'd always lived on the property, and I ran my business from here. I pitched in at the restaurant and the brewery as needed. This was my life. I wouldn't let it go without a fight. And I wouldn't cave on my desire to see my furniture in the inn.
I was positive my grandparents would have wanted the same thing.
I took extra time in the shower, letting the warm water beat a steady rhythm on my back as I remembered every detail about last night.
How Kennedy looked in the hot tub, her eyes bright with desire and her skin flushed from the heat.
How she rode my cock. And later, how it felt to spread her out on the bed and take my time with her.
I wasn't done with her. Not by a long shot.
When I finally got out, I dressed in slacks and a white button shirt. This was a professional meeting, but I wasn't wearing a suit to breakfast. I was a man who worked with his hands. I dressed up when I had to, but there was no way I'd play the part of a stiff suit for this woman, whoever she was.
I glanced at the mirror. A few days growth of scruff lined my jaw. I wasn't shaving for her either. I wouldn't conform to her vision of a man.
Ms. Barnes was in Colorado now, and if she couldn't render an opinion that made sense for this area, then she shouldn't be here.
I hated that I had to socialize this early in the morning.
I preferred to start the morning with coffee while I sat on my porch.
Then I'd spend a few hours in the workshop.
At some point throughout the day, a brother would call and ask for help somewhere, and I might venture out.
Otherwise, I'd stay in the workshop and work.
Now that I was done with the brewery’s furniture, I had quite a few orders to catch up on. People who wanted a dining room table, bookshelves, or a storage unit.
I had steady business through word-of-mouth referrals and didn't have to advertise.
It would be easier to handle the business side of things if I had an assistant, but the business didn't warrant that yet.
Besides, hiring an employee was one more person I'd have to talk to.
I preferred solitude when I was working.
At the restaurant, I checked in with the hostess, and she directed me to a table by the window. Mom and Dad were already seated.
"Mom. Dad," I greeted them as I sat down. I was still upset that we were meeting with this person at all. Mom and Dad wanted to retire, and they wanted to ensure that they did the best they could for the inn. But they were making a mistake in asking for an outsider's opinion.
"You aren't happy about this," Dad said simply.
I appreciated him not tiptoeing around the issue. "I don't see the point. How will an outsider know what's best for our business?"
"This woman is supposed to be one of the rising stars in the hotel design world," Mom said excitedly.
"I didn't know there was such a thing." I had visions of white, modern decor. It was boring and wouldn't match the aesthetic at the inn.
Mom nodded seriously. "Apparently she started as a hospitality worker and made a few suggestions on decor. The results were so good that she went out on her own. We're lucky that she had time to meet with us. She usually takes on larger hotels, not small inns like ours."
I ground my teeth together. "So she thinks that we're tiny compared to her other jobs?"
"We are small compared to city hotels," Dad said reasonably. "This is important to us. We want to make sure we're leaving you with an inn that is prepared for the future. Sometimes you have to admit that you need an expert's opinion."
"I'm still not convinced that this woman is an expert.
" I knew nothing about her. Other than her last name.
I probably should have searched her name online last night.
I probably wouldn't have had too much of a problem getting information.
Especially if what my parents were saying was true.
The hotel industry was relatively small, and everyone talked about the next big thing.
Instead, I spent the night entranced with Kennedy, exploring her body inside and out, and I had no regrets about that.
When I glanced up, Kennedy was a few feet away from our table, headed in our direction. I stood without even thinking about it.
She wore a silk blouse, a pencil skirt, and skinny heels that made her legs look a mile long. Her hair was sleeked back into a bun. Her lips were covered in a red lipstick that I wanted to see around my dick.
I should pretend we didn't even know each other. But she was slowing down as she approached, looking from me to my parents. A crease appeared on her forehead. Then she came to a stop. "Mr. and Mrs. Hart?"
My heart was beating hard. Who was she?
Mom and Dad stood with a smile on their faces.
"Ms. Barnes, we're so glad you could meet with us."
Kennedy shook Dad's hand and then Mom's.
Did I fuck the woman my parents hired as a consultant?
Mom gestured at me. "This is our son, Boone. He's the furniture maker we told you about."
Kennedy held her slim hand out to mine, and I closed my larger one around it.
I kept her gaze, conveying to her all the ways I devoured her body last night. I wanted her to feel as off-kilter as I did.
"It's so nice to finally meet all of you," Kennedy said, carefully avoiding my gaze as she dropped my hand.
When I didn't respond, Mom said, "Ms. Barnes is joining us for breakfast."
"This is the designer." I hadn't fucked a random woman. I'd slept with the one woman who held my future in her hands. I was so screwed.
Kennedy smiled as if she hadn't been naked in front of me last night. "That's right."
As I pulled out her chair, I decided that I wasn't going to make this easy on her. "I'm excited to hear all about you, Ms. Barnes."
She gave me a side look, then refocused on my parents. Somehow Kennedy was calm, cool, and collected while I was freaking out.
"I'm here to see the inn and the surrounding property. The brewery just opened?"
Dad nodded. "The grand opening was last night."
"I was exhausted from a long day of travel. I'll have to stop by sometime this week," Kennedy said.
"Boone will take you anywhere you want to go. He's your contact while you're here," Mom said.
Kennedy stiffened. "I don't need a guide. I can take myself around."
"You'll want to see the property through his eyes. Boone has insight and knowledge that you’ll find helpful,” Mom insisted.
"That's why I don't see the point of this. Why are we involving an outsider? We know how to run a business, and we know what our guests like." I was frustrated with this entire thing. And the last thing I wanted to do was spend time with the woman who had the power to crush my dreams.
Kennedy sighed. "Sometimes it takes an outsider to see what you can't."
"What do you know about running a family business?"
Her cheeks turned pink.
"How many family-owned inns have you consulted with?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"You're my first," she said tightly.
I leaned back in my chair.
"Give her a chance. Kennedy's very good at what she does. I think that will translate into a smaller setting," Dad said.
I threw my hands in the air. "She doesn't have any experience in small hotels or inns, certainly not one run by a family. This is a waste of our time."
"I know you're upset. But this is our decision, and we're still the owners," Dad said.
I leaned in, resting my elbows on the table. "Everyone gets a vote."
"We want to take care of the inn's renovation so that you don't have to. And we want to make sure that it's the best it can be. Everyone will be able to vote on her suggestions."
"I'm very good at evaluating what a hotel needs and making recommendations to take it to the next level." Kennedy's tone was professional.
"You want to modernize everything. Make everything slick and white with plugs for everyone's devices." I shuddered at the idea of plugs in furniture.
"That is important to guests. They want to be able to charge their devices."
"They come here for a break from that stuff," I insisted.
"Boone," Dad warned.
The waitress appeared. "Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Hart. What can I get you?"
Everyone ordered drinks, and I was fairly sure I growled something about coffee.
Black. I certainly didn't need anything sweet in my life.
I wanted bitter coffee that would wake me up because this had to be a dream.
There was no way my one-night stand was sitting at the table with my parents discussing the future of the inn.
When the server left, Dad leaned in. "We're asking you to keep an open mind about this."
"Fine," I said with gritted teeth. I felt like a reluctant teenager who knew my parents always got the last word anyway. What was the point of fighting about this in front of Kennedy? I'd go along with it, but they couldn't make me be happy about it.
"Boone hand makes furniture, and he'd like to design the inn's furniture. It needs an update, and we're not sure which direction to go in," Mom said.
"Handmade furniture is expensive—" Dad began.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm family. I'm not going to overcharge you."
"And it takes a long time to make. Do we want to wait for all the pieces to be handcrafted, or is it better to go with something already on the market?" he continued.
"I think it's great you make furniture," Kennedy said.
"Boone designed the bar, the stools, and the tables and chairs at the brewery," Mom said with pride in her tone.
I leaned back in my chair, wondering why my parents were promoting my work to the person who would undoubtedly want something new and shiny for the inn's interior. Kennedy wouldn't care about history or nostalgia or how important they were to our brand.
"You should see the brewery. It's a great example of what we're trying to create here. A sense of family and history," Dad said proudly.
Kennedy nodded. "I'd love to see it."
The waitress returned, and we ordered breakfast. I wasn't hungry. Not anymore.
I sat next to Kennedy, feeling like I didn't know her at all. Spending the night with her was a mistake. One I didn't want to repeat. No matter how much I was attracted to her.
There was no way I'd be going back for seconds. I'd be her tour guide, but I certainly wouldn't be sleeping with the woman who had the power to ruin my future.