Chapter 14
14
Bren was on the 5K run committee?
Curbing an eye roll, Noah paused in the doorway of the conference room at Grace Christian.
Funny how Dad had neglected to mention that yesterday.
Not.
All his father had offered was that someone named John, who owned the Seabird Inn B&B, was the chair of the committee.
He and his dad were going to have a long talk later.
In the meantime, he had a meeting to attend.
Psyching himself up for an encounter he hadn’t expected to have, Noah gave the other two members of the committee a quick once-over. John would be the amused-looking man who was watching a thirtysomething red-haired woman gesture emphatically.
But it was Bren who drew his attention.
She was listening to the animated woman too, the colorful earrings she’d also worn to church yesterday swinging as she bobbed her head in agreement. Her gauzy top with silver threads running through it had a bohemian, retro vibe, its purple hue a match for the subtle plum-colored undertone in her hair.
As if sensing his scrutiny, she shifted her attention to him. Offered a smile that seemed strained.
The other two heads swiveled his direction, and the man rose. “You must be Noah.” His demeanor was warm and amiable as he walked over and extended his hand. “Welcome. And thank you for coming to our rescue. I’m John Nash.”
He returned the man’s solid grip. “You may not thank me after tonight. There’s a ton of work involved in an event like this.”
“The three of us are ready to roll up our sleeves. Right, ladies?” He led the way back to the table.
“Absolutely.” The red-haired woman jumped to her feet, energy crackling off her. “Marci Weber Garrison. A pleasure to meet you.” She pumped his hand.
“Likewise.”
“Marci’s the editor of the Hope Harbor Herald and runs a PR business.” John motioned him into a seat. “If you need publicity or press coverage in this town, she’s your gal.”
“Both will be essential if you want this event to be a success.”
“Reporting for duty.” Marci grinned and gave a mock salute.
“You’ve met Bren, I believe.” John sat back in his chair.
“Yes. She gave me quite a welcome the night I arrived.” He directed his attention to her. “It actually choked me up.”
Bren’s lips twitched, and she covered her snicker with a cough.
“Glad to hear it. We like people to feel at home here.” John opened the notebook in front of him as Marci dug a pen out of her purse, both of them apparently oblivious to the sizzling current that was arcing between him and Bren—and stalling his lungs.
“We’re all ears.” Marci uncapped her pen. “Every scrap of information you can pass on is welcome. The extent of my running experience is confined to chasing after three-year-old twins.”
“I’m clueless too.” John took one of the bottles of water in the center of the table and twisted off the cap. “The only runner among us is Bren.”
She yanked her gaze away from his. Cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, not qualified to claim that title yet. As Noah knows, I’m a novice.”
True. Her immaculate shoes that first day had been a dead giveaway, as had the labored breathing she’d tried so hard to control. The attempt to mask her inexperience had actually been kind of cute.
But that was beside the point.
Reining in his wayward thoughts, he opened his notebook. “I do run, but I’ve never organized anything like this. However, one of my coworkers has. I talked to him today and got a boatload of information. What I discovered is that a running event has a bunch of moving parts.”
“We figured it would. That’s why we were beginning to panic. If it wasn’t for you, we’d be sunk.” John gave him a thumbs-up.
“All I’m doing is passing on information. The real work will fall to you.”
“Ready whenever you are.” Marci positioned her pen on her tablet.
Noah skimmed his notes. “The first question my coworker asked was the purpose of the event. After I explained what I knew, he strongly suggested you have two routes—a challenging one to attract serious runners, and another for people who just want to support a worthwhile cause and have fun.”
“That’s a smart idea.” John took a swig of water. “Your dad tells me you’ve been running every day here. Is there any chance we could impose on you to help us map out the challenging course?”
He stifled a groan.
That sort of nitty-gritty involvement was beyond the scope of what he’d agreed to do.
On the other hand, it wasn’t a huge imposition. His daily runs had taken him in every direction. And it was for a worthwhile cause.
“I can give it a shot, but Dad said you wanted to include town landmarks and locations of Helping Hands beneficiaries. I’ll need a list of those, with addresses.”
“Consider it done.” Marci scribbled on a Post-it note and stuck it to her tablet. “Bren, would you plan the easy route, since you’re a beginner?”
“I can try, but I’m still feeling my way in terms of what’s easy.” She grimaced. “It definitely won’t include Pelican Point Road.”
“I should hope not.” Marci gave an exaggerated shudder. “I get hives just thinking about trying to run up to the lighthouse. I’ll never forget the day my car got stuck at the bottom of the road and I had to hoof it to our house halfway up. I was gasping. Of course, being seven months pregnant didn’t help.” She smirked and gave Bren an elbow nudge.
“So we have the routes covered. That wasn’t too hard.” John set his water down. “In a previous meeting we talked about lining up sponsors, so that’s already underway. What else do we need to think about?”
“A lot.”
For the next twenty minutes, Noah passed on what his coworker had shared during their call, from creating online registration forms and a website to designing and writing promotional pieces like posters, flyers, banners, and press releases.
All three committee members scribbled furiously as he talked.
“I don’t know what the budget is, but if you can line up the sponsors you mentioned, that will help offset costs.” Noah flipped to his next page of notes. “You’ll have to buy things like T-shirts, medals, bib numbers, mile markers, directional signs, and starting and finish line equipment. My coworker said some of the latter items can be rented, but he had no idea about sources for those in this part of the country.”
Marci finished writing and looked up. “My head is spinning.”
“If it’s too overwhelming, you can always postpone this until the guy who thought of the idea gets back.”
As he spoke, the three committee members exchanged glances.
“I think we can pull this off if we recruit a few more people to help, don’t you?” John addressed the two women.
“Yes.” Marci gave a definitive nod. “I can handle the publicity stuff if you two take care of the logistical pieces. And maybe each of us can solicit one more person for our committee.”
“I’m in.” Bren raised her water bottle.
“There is one more thing.” As Noah spoke, they all sent him a wary look. “My coworker suggested that you come up with a catchy name or slogan for the promotional material and T-shirts.”
“I can see the merit in that.” Marci pursed her lips and rolled her pen between her fingers.
“I can too, but don’t count on me for ideas.” John held up his hands, palms forward. “I don’t have a creative bone in my body—except in the kitchen. The inner chef in me blossomed after I opened the B&B. I’m great at mixing herbs and spices, but stringing words together for clever titles or slogans is beyond my skill set.”
“Bren’s creative, and I’m decent at headlines. Between the two of us, we ought to be able to handle this. What do you think, Bren?” Marci tossed the question to her fellow committee member.
“I’m willing to give it a try.”
As the three of them engaged in a fast-paced discussion, Noah leaned back.
What had Marci meant about Bren being creative? Aside from crafting specialty drinks and perhaps doing foam art, did she have another talent? Or had Marci simply meant that Bren had an imaginative bent?
One thing for sure, his dad’s tenant had no lack of enthusiasm. As he watched her interact with Marci and John, her face animated, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, her distinctive bell-like laugh occasionally adding a musical note to the conversation, a tingle zipped through him.
Which was weird—and discombobulating.
Bren was nothing like the kind of woman he’d expected to find attractive.
Then again, he’d considered Candace a good match, and look what had happened with her.
A shiver rippled through him.
That had been messy. And nasty. An experience dreadful enough to convince him to swear off women for the foreseeable future.
Yet how could any guy not find Bren appealing, with her infectious vivaciousness and kind, generous heart? Add in the intriguing juxtaposition of delicate features with a hint of steel in her eyes, and she was one captivating female.
Bottom line, Bren Ryan seemed like the real deal. A woman who’d found her place in the world and was content there, even if some would assume she lacked ambition.
Him included.
He frowned. Doodled a series of question marks on his tablet.
Was it possible he’d been too hasty in his assessment of her? Too judgmental? Too self-righteous?
While a low-key, slower-paced lifestyle in a small town might not be for him, who was he to say his choice was any better than the one Bren had made?
Truth be told, she appeared to be happier and far less crazed than him on a day-to-day basis. Life could get frenetic back in St. Louis. Juggling multiple and often ridiculous deadlines while dealing with demanding clients was a recipe for stress.
He added more question marks to the string.
What would it be like to wake up in the morning and not have to hit the ground running every single day? To take a real lunch hour, perhaps on a bench by the sea, instead of gulping down a wrap while dashing between meetings? To come home in the evening and enjoy a quiet dinner with a woman who—
“... done this before?”
As the last part of John’s question registered, Noah sat up straighter. Shifted mental gears while the three committee members waited for a response. “Sorry. I was daydreaming for a minute. I missed the first part of your question.”
“No worries. We had plenty to talk about and tasks to divvy up while you drifted off. I asked whether we could consult with you during your stay if we run into a snag. Ask you to pass on questions to your runner friend.”
“Sure.”
“In that case, I think we’re finished here for tonight. We all have our marching orders. If you’d be willing, we may want to schedule one more in-person meeting before you leave.”
“That would be fine.”
“Why don’t we all exchange cell numbers before we break up?”
After they took care of that piece of business, John skimmed his watch. “If you all don’t mind, I’m going to duck out fast. I have a couple scheduled for a late arrival, and I want to be on hand to greet them.”
“And I have twins to put to bed.” Marci scanned her phone. “Ben has to deal with an emergency at the hospital in Coos Bay.”
“You guys go ahead. I’ll shut down here.” Bren gathered up her papers.
“If you’re sure ...” Marci was already on her feet.
“Absolutely. Go. Both of you.” She stood too and waved them off.
After goodbyes were exchanged, the other two took off, leaving him and Bren alone.
“Can I help you do anything here?” Noah zipped his portfolio shut.
“No. All I have to do is turn off lights and double-check that the door locks behind me.”
He was free to leave—even if he suddenly didn’t want to.
With no excuse to linger, though, what choice did he have?
“Let me know if you have any questions as you dive into the project. And I’ll be happy to review the fun route if you want my input after you map it out.”
“Thanks.” She flicked him a glance. Swallowed. Dipped her chin and tapped her papers into place.
If there was an electricity meter in here, it would be spiking.
Pulse accelerating, Noah retreated a step. “I guess I’ll take off.”
“Okay. See you around.” She continued to shuffle papers.
He’d been dismissed.
Gripping his portfolio, he pivoted, exited, and walked down the hall, mind whirling.
On a business level, the meeting had gone well. Despite the amount of work he’d outlined, everyone had seemed less uncertain and worried by the time they wrapped up.
If only he could say the same about his heart. Whatever spell Bren had cast on him was wreaking havoc with it.
He picked up his pace toward the outside door.
Being intrigued by a woman with purple hair was one thing. Getting dangerously interested in her was another. Aside from the fact that they seemed to have disparate backgrounds and little in common, geography was against them.
He needed to walk out tonight and forget about her.
Shoring up that resolve, he pushed through the door and strode toward his car as drops of rain began plopping onto the pavement in the deepening dusk.
Where had that come from? The sky had been blue when he arrived.
A quick sweep of the heavens provided the answer. During their meeting, dark clouds had moved in.
No worries. Even if the skies opened, he’d be home soon. Dad’s place wasn’t that—
He stopped. Furrowed his brow.
Why was his rental car the only vehicle in the lot?
Had Bren walked here?
Very possible. Dad’s place wasn’t far, and the weather had been clear and sunny earlier.
Noah hesitated.
Any more contact with her tonight wouldn’t be wise. Not in light of all the sparks that had been pinging back and forth in the conference room.
But leaving her to the mercy of Mother Nature’s whims would be unkind. And the drive to Dad’s wouldn’t take long.
He turned. Slowly retraced his steps.
Offering her a ride was the right thing to do. Everything would be fine.
After all, how much could happen in the space of a handful of minutes?