Chapter 18
KENNEDY
Ihadn't expected to see a truck when I pulled up to Boone's. In all the times I stayed the night, no one had dropped by. But Beck already knew about us, so I didn't have to pretend that the visit was professional.
Were they talking about our relationship?
I heard the tires of Beck's truck move over the gravel drive as he pulled out, and then Boone's footsteps a few seconds later.
"He didn't have to leave," I said as Beck came around the corner of the building.
"He'd already been here for a while and wanted to get home to Clara. Trust me, he can't be apart from her for long." Boone sat in the seat that Beck vacated.
"Is it okay that I stopped by? I didn't realize he'd be here."
"I want you here."
That settled deep in my chest. It wasn't a declaration of his feelings, but it was something. Probably the deepest admission I'd get from a man like Boone. One who wasn't used to discussing his feelings. "What were you guys talking about?"
"Work. Relationships. The usual."
I snagged on his reference to relationships. "You were talking about us?"
"He wants me to be careful. He doesn't want your business to be hurt."
A chill ran through me. "That's why I wanted to keep it a secret from your family."
"I trust Beck not to tell anyone. He was in his own secret relationship with Clara, and none of us found out until they wanted us to know."
"If you're sure—"
"You can trust Beck. He's a good guy."
I needed to make a final decision on the furniture soon because my time in town was coming to an end.
I'd seen everything there was to see, and I'd already decided on the picture frames and color scheme.
Since it was a mountain inn, I went with deep forest greens, rich cedar browns, smoky grays, and cozy cream neutrals.
Guests would come and want to stay awhile.
"I'll get to work on what you need for the snow room. Just let me know how many benches and tree structures you'll need."
"I'll email the design over to you so you can see what I had in mind. But you're the artist; you can design whatever you think will work."
"You don't mind if people create something not on your list or in your design?"
"Of course not. I'm not an artist. I trust your judgment."
"But you designed the room."
I sighed. "I don't see myself as an artist."
"You have a vision, and someone else brings it to life."
"My satisfaction comes from increased traffic to the hotel. The reviews on the website. That kind of thing. Not from the designs I create."
He leaned back in his chair, cradling a bottle.
There were lights strung from the building to a pole that was slightly shorter than the roofline. It created an inviting ambiance. "It's really pretty out here."
"Clara was over here once with Beck and insisted on hanging lights. But it's rare for anyone to stop by, other than to check progress on my work. When I was doing the brewery furniture, I would take everything over there to see how it would look."
"It's nice, even if it's just you hanging out here." I tried to imagine what he did when I wasn't in town. Did he spend his evenings out here? Or did he work until he was too exhausted to do anything but go to sleep?
He gestured at the space next to the workshop. "Soon, I'll have my own place over there and can create something more permanent, a patio or a deck. I haven't decided."
"It's so quiet here." There was a thin blanket of snow on the ground from a storm that had passed through earlier in the day.
"That's what I prefer."
He'd hate Miami, the hustle and bustle, the nightlife. People awake at all hours of the day. I'd thought it made me feel alive, but now I wasn't so sure. Was it the sound of the night forest or the nightlife that truly made me feel alive? I had a feeling it had something to do with Boone.
I decided to change the subject because our lives were too different for me to be thinking about blending them.
"Your parents are going to start construction on the snow room as soon as possible.
They're excited to get it completed before summer when they figured most guests would enjoy it the most."
"A deadline for something like that is always good. Who knows how long it will be trending?"
"Hopefully, for years to come," I said.
"I'll get started on the work right away. I have a few things to do for the brewery. Then I want to focus on other projects."
I sighed. "I don't know what to do about the furniture at the inn."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I almost always get a strong feeling about the direction of a hotel or inn.
I knew right away that the snow room would be perfect.
After I saw what you did at the brewery, I was convinced that photographs of scenery would be great on the walls of the inn.
But I can't see the furniture in my mind, if that makes sense. "
"Beck said he looks at the numbers."
I sighed. "It's cheaper and quicker to go with something that's mass produced."
He looked away. "Then you have your answer."
"But I can see the appeal of handcrafted furniture too. It would last longer, have an attractive history that guests would talk about in reviews. It would be a quality upgrade that came with the appropriate price tag."
"Maybe there's some kind of a compromise."
I raised a brow. "And what would that be?"
"Maybe the downstairs rooms can have mass-produced furniture, and the upstairs can be custom. We could demand higher prices for those rooms because of the layout and design."
"That's not a bad idea." And I only felt a small twinge at the fact that he'd come up with the solution when I hadn't been able to. "It's kind of nice to bounce ideas off someone. Usually, I work alone."
"You think it's a viable option?"
"It could work." I still needed to talk to his parents about it.
But I had a feeling they were looking for a solution that would be right for everyone, save money, but also utilize their son's talents.
"Would you be able to make more rocking chairs for the patio and porches at the inn?
I feel those should be handcrafted. If anyone wants to take one home, they could ask at the front desk. Would you be able to ship them?"
Boone huffed out a breath. "You want me to sell the rocking chairs to guests all over the country?"
"It's just an idea. I’d need to figure out the shipping."
"I'm sure it's not cheap, but maybe they'd be willing to pay for it."
"You said you sell a lot of dining-room tables. Maybe this can be another product that sells easily. It takes more time to make things from scratch, but what if you had a couple of pieces that were signature items."
"I thought you were supposed to be helping the inn," Boone said carefully.
"It was just an idea. I got so excited about your idea for the inn's furniture that my creative juices were flowing again." I wasn't used to feeling so stuck, and now that I'd opened my mind to his suggestion, other ideas were flowing easily again.
"I wouldn't be opposed to that idea. I kind of like it, actually."
I was thrilled about our ideas, and I wanted to celebrate with him. I stood and moved toward him. His gaze followed my movement.
I straddled his thick thighs, and my fingers curled in his hair. "Thank you for unblocking me."
He chuckled. "I didn't think I did much of anything."
"You had that idea, and it opened something inside me."
He cupped my cheek. "You're welcome."
"I want to celebrate."
His eyes flashed with desire. "What did you have in mind?"
I lowered my lips to his and kissed him. It went from a slow exploration to demanding in seconds.
He stood and carried me to the door. "I need more room for what I want to do to you."
I only broke away when he carried me up the stairs. He was so strong and capable. No man in Miami would be able to lift me like this. Boone was my very own mountain man, and I never wanted to give him up. Which meant that I was in big trouble.
He opened the door and carried me into his apartment.
Tonight, I was all for getting lost in him. In forgetting about my impending departure. He placed me on the bed but remained standing.
He unbuttoned his flannel shirt. I scrambled off the bed to help him with his buckle.
I shoved his jeans down and dropped to my knees on the soft rug.
Looking up at him from my lashes, his expression was absolutely feral. I gripped his cock, looking up at him.
His hand rested in my hair, not demanding, not pushing.
I licked the tip, savoring the salty flavor. Then I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him into my mouth. I kept a steady rhythm of pumping his cock with my hands and sucking him deep.
A low growl emanated from his throat.
I'd never felt more powerful.
The next thing I knew, he was hauling me onto my feet and then turning me so that my hands were resting on the bed and my ass was presented to him. He gripped my hips, and his cock slipped inside me.
I was so worked up from the blow job that I was already close to going over the edge. And there was something about the angle that made him go deeper and hit that spot inside me that made me desperate for more.
I felt hot all over and overwhelmed with emotion. How could it be this good with someone that I didn't plan on seeing again?
He reached around and touched my nipples, tweaking them before moving a hand between my legs. It only took one stroke, and I was crying out his name.
With a growl, he thrust one more time and let go. He slowly eased out of me, his come dripping to the floor. "Don't move."
I listened because I heard him moving toward the bathroom and the water turn on. He'd made it a habit of grabbing a washcloth every time we had sex since we'd forgone condoms. He returned with a warm washcloth, cleaning me.
When he was done, he helped me to stand and kissed me softly. "That was hot. Next time I want to eat you out in that position."
"Yes," I breathed, wanting that too.
"But I was too far gone for you. I couldn't wait any longer to be inside you."
This thing between us was intense, but I couldn't help but think it had something to do with me leaving. We could only be together for a short time, and it heightened everything. If we were in a normal relationship, we wouldn't feel the same way.
It was exciting because we were keeping it a secret, and it was time-sensitive.
He got into bed and reached for me. I climbed in, cradled against his hard body.
I sighed. "I'm not here for much longer. I'll get the snow room started and present the rest of my ideas to your parents. Then I'll be gone. Onto the next project."
"You have something lined up?" His voice rumbled under my ear.
"My inbox is slowly filling up with possibilities.
I'll need to sort through them and decide what sounds good.
But first, I'll go home and take a break.
I miss my view of the ocean." I spent every morning on my couch watching the sun rise.
I'd missed it while I was here, and I was eager to get back to it.
Then why did I feel sharp pains in my chest whenever I thought about driving to the airport and getting on a plane?
"I bet you're ready to be home."
"I miss it and my friends." Jodi had sent me pictures, but it wasn't the same as talking to her every day.
I'd love to hear what she thought about Boone and not just her ideas about mountain men or lumberjacks.
I wanted her honest opinion on what the hell I was doing, because I was so far away from our intended relationship.
It was just supposed to be sex, so why was I getting upset about leaving?
"Are you going to miss Colorado?"
"I will miss the terrain, the snow. It's been nice.
" It was nicer because I had Boone to cuddle with every night.
Usually, I would be alone in my hotel room and eager to get home.
But this time, I'd gotten used to spending nights with Boone.
I didn't want to go back to being alone.
Would Miami be the same without Boone there?
The thing was, I couldn't even see him in Miami, walking on the beach or driving down the street among the flashier cars. It wasn't Boone's scene, and I couldn't ask him to go somewhere where he wouldn't fit in.
This was his home, and mine was in Miami. I couldn't forget that.