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  Sam frowned. "What do you mean, everyone saw? What did they see?"

  "Oh, you know. Heads together, wandering around looking the place over. And when you climbed up the ladder to look at the ceiling? He checked out your butt."

  Sam leaned her arms on the counter. "He did not. He did? Really?"

  "He did. Chelsea and I were watching. And he was not looking at the ceiling. He was looking at your butt."

  "Now that is interesting."

  "I know. So enjoy dinner. And see what happens for dessert."

  "I will. But you know, I didn't invite him for dinner to have . . . dessert with him."

  Megan laughed. "Sure you didn't."

  "Megan, I'm serious. I just wanted to see his blueprints."

  "Is that what we're calling it now?"

  Sam rolled her eyes. "You're so funny."

  "I know I am. Call me tomorrow with all the details."

  "Okay."

  Samantha hung up, grabbed her purse, and locked up the shop, then headed out to her car. Once inside, she looked at her phone to double-check her grocery list.

  She was going to cook a spaghetti dinner for Reid McCormack tonight, and then she was going to look over his blueprints. And by blueprints, she really meant actual blueprints. Nothing involving "dessert."

  But if he checked out her butt again, dessert might be back on the menu. And she wasn't talking sweets.

  Chapter 2

  REID DIDN'T HAVE a lot of time to ponder the mystery that was Samantha Reasor, because not long after she left, Deacon Fox pulled up.

  He grinned as he walked outside to shake Deacon's hand.

  "Hey, movie star," he said to Deacon.

  "Fuck you."

  Reid shook his head. Nothing much had changed since their high school days. Deacon still had those movie-star looks Reid used to tease him about. With jet black hair, blue eyes, and rugged good looks, Deacon had to fight off the women.

  Not that Deacon had done a whole lot of fighting off back then. There'd been plenty of girls, and Deacon had never said no. Until Deacon and Loretta Simmons had hooked up. Then all other women had ceased to exist for him. But that was high school and a long time ago, and a lot had changed since then.

  Though Reid had heard that Deacon was still hot with all of the women. Single, a business owner, and, though Reid didn't see the appeal, he supposed Deacon could still be considered good-looking.

  If you liked the dark, rugged, handsome type.

  "You had to pick the place that needs the most work, huh?" Deacon asked as they surveyed the front of the building.

  "You know me. I like a challenge."

  "Yeah. I know you all right. At least the outside is still in decent shape. Once we replace the porch and clean up the brick, that's all the exterior is going to need. I'll have to check out the roof, but it doesn't look to be in bad shape. From the paperwork I got, looks like the roof was replaced about ten years ago, so we should be good to go there."

  "Agreed."

  Deacon nodded. "Let me grab my copy of the blueprints and I'll meet you inside. Your idiot brothers coming?"

  Reid laughed. "They should be here soon."

  Deacon slapped him on the back. "You and me together again, McCormack. Just like old times, huh?"

  "Yeah. Just like old times. Except this time you're going to have to do some of the work. You know, because I'm paying you."

  "Screw you. I always worked harder than you did."

  Reid shook his head when Deacon disappeared, then went inside to grab his blueprint copy and waited for Deacon. He'd hired Deacon, owner of Fox Construction, to assist him with the renovation project. In high school, he and Deacon had had English and math classes together, and had suffered through Mr. Sundford's chem class of death as lab partners.

  At eighteen, it had been Deacon he'd leaned on when his mother had decided she'd rather be free than be a parent. If it hadn't been for his brothers, his dad, and Deacon, he wasn't sure how he would have survived that summer. His brothers and father had given him the family support he needed, but when that had gotten too smothering, he'd fled the house and hung out with Deacon.

  Deacon didn't have the perfect family. His parents had divorced when he was ten, so he understood complicated family dynamics. Deacon hadn't judged when Reid had spilled his guts one drunken weekend out at the lake. Instead, he'd sat quietly next to him and listened as Reid had railed against his mother, against faithless women who couldn't stick it out when times were rough. Deacon had agreed with him when necessary, and had told him he was full of shit when Reid had stumbled around in a drunken stupor and mumbled about obviously not being worth loving.

  That night was still a little fuzzy, but he remembered Deacon shoving him so hard he'd fallen on his ass in the dirt. Deacon had told him he could blame his mother for every goddamn thing that was wrong in the world, but none of what had happened would ever be Reid's fault. Just like it hadn't been Deacon's fault that his parents had decided to get a divorce.

  Obviously Deacon had a lot more practical experience with the divorce thing. It had taken Reid a while to get on board, but he had, and his father and brothers had been his familial rocks, while Deacon had been his Gibraltar of a friend.

  He'd never forgotten it, and even though he'd left Hope for college and then found his career in Boston, he'd never cut ties with Deacon. So when the opportunity presented itself to refurbish the mercantile, Deacon had been the first person he'd thought of to help him.

  "How's business?" Reid asked when Deacon came back inside.

  "Busier than a male porn star with a twelve-inch dick."

  Reid snorted. "Speaking from personal experience, Deacon?"

  "You know it. It's my weekend side job."

  "You wish." Only with Deacon could he have this conversation.

  He'd missed him. They'd stayed in touch over the years, and he knew Deacon had taken over his dad's construction business.

  "This is probably a small-time operation for you," Reid said.

  "Hey, like I told you. I'm absolutely on board with doing this renovation. The mercantile means as much to me as it does to you. I can't wait to make her shine again."

  Which was why he'd hired Deacon. They shared the same vision.

  The door opened, and Luke and Logan walked in.

  "I swear we don't have tequila in here, Officer," Deacon said.

  "Well, why the hell not?" Luke asked.

  "Because it would take twice as long to finish the job," Reid said. "And Deacon's expensive."

  Deacon shot Reid a look. "You're paying for the best, my man. That's why I'm expensive."

  "You hired this joker to help with the renovation?" Logan asked, shaking Deacon's hand. "Man, you must have been high."

  Deacon laughed. "Yeah, as high and sturdy as that barn you had me build for you, asshole."

  Logan shrugged. "No complaints there."

  Sometimes Reid really missed this camaraderie. He had friends in Boston, but it wasn't the same. He missed the people he'd grown up with, the people who knew him well, knew his idiosyncrasies and his secrets--the bad ones as well as the good ones.

  Family and his best friend. His lifelines over the years.

  But his business--his success story--that was in Boston.

  And that's where he'd head back to once this project was finished.

  Deacon looked the building over. "This place is a shithole."

  "Yeah," Reid said, seeing the mess through Deacon's eyes. Holes in the walls--and the floors. Ceiling collapsing, plumbing a disaster, and electrical a total nightmare. Nothing was where he wanted it, which meant a total restructure.

  The mercantile had lost her sparkle, and there was a hell of a lot of work ahead of them. She was worth it.

  He shot a grin at Deacon. "But it's going to be amazing once it's finished."

  Logan stepped over broken cabinets that appeared to have been wrenched from the wall by the Hulk on a bender. "This place seems worse than it did when we w
ere here several months ago. Has it been vandalized or something?"

  "No. This is pretty much how it looked back then."

  Luke shook his head. "You've got your work cut out for you, brother. I'm happy to just be an investor on this one."

  Logan scratched the side of his face and nodded. "Yeah, me, too. This looks like a clusterfuck in the making."

  Deacon laughed. "That's because the two of you don't see beyond the mess it is now. We'll fix it, won't we, Reid?"

  "Hell yes, we will." Typically he was happy to be the architect, to create the design and let the engineers and the contractors take over with the build. But before he'd hired Deacon he'd discussed his desire to be a part of the renovation, to be hands-on in turning around the mercantile. Deacon had told him it wouldn't be a problem.

  They went over the blueprints. Even though Logan and Luke wouldn't be involved in the project, he wanted his brothers to know the plan. They'd contributed a lot of money--or at least the McCormack ranch had contributed a lot of money--to the renovation, so he wanted them to be on board with his thought process regarding how best to shape up the mercantile.

  "Honestly, Reid, I don't know how Luke feels, but you're the talent here. I'm fine with whatever decisions you make about the building. You're the architect, and Deacon's the contractor, so the two of you know best."

  Luke nodded. "I agree with Logan. If there's something you feel is necessary to have our input on, feel free to call, but this is your ball. Call it."

  "All right, then. Deacon and I will get started."

  After Logan and Luke left, he and Deacon sketched out preliminary project plans. They'd meet in Deacon's office tomorrow with the engineer to line everything out in more detail.

  "Normally I'd stay more hands-off on a project and let the contractor handle things, but I'll tell you right now I'm probably going to be more involved than we originally talked about on this one," Reid said. He stared up at the ceiling, where it was aged and falling down. Beyond that, the original tin ceiling just begging to be shined up and showed off. "There's history here, and I'd really like to be a part of restoring it."

  Deacon nodded. "You're the boss here. You can stand around and bark orders or wield a hammer and haul trash, for all I care. Up to you."

  That's what he'd always liked most about Deacon--his easygoing manner. Not much ruffled his feathers.

  Instead of heading all the way back to the McCormack ranch only to have to turn around and make the drive into Hope again for dinner with Samantha, Reid decided to hang out in town for the remainder of the day. He only had a couple of hours to kill, since the meeting lasted the better part of the afternoon, so he went over to the library, intending to do some research into the town's history.

  He was hoping to find as much information as possible on the mercantile--and some photos.

  He walked up to the research desk and found an extremely attractive brunette whose back was turned to him. Or at least her backside was attractive, since she was currently bent over the desk which gave him a great view of her curves. When she turned around, he instantly recognized her.

  "Jillian? Jillian Reynolds, right?"

  She frowned. "Yes?"

  "Reid McCormack. We went to school together. You probably don't remember me."

  She smiled as recognition dawned. "Oh, hi, Reid. It's nice to see you again. I heard you and your brothers bought the mercantile. I was so happy to hear the news. All of us--and by all of us, I mean those of us who live and work here in town--love that old building. We're so happy knowing you're restoring it."

  "Thanks." She was just as pretty from the front as she was from the back, with short brown hair that framed her face and very striking green eyes. "I'm looking forward to the project, which is what brings me here."

  "Sure. What can I do for you?"

  "I was hoping to find some documents or books on the history of Hope, and any with photographs would be especially helpful."

  "Of course. We have an entire section on Hope." She came around and led him toward the aisle marked Hope Town History.

  "Perfect," he said. "Thanks."

  "If you're looking for photos of the old mercantile over the years, you might also want to check out the Hope Historical Society and the Chamber of Commerce. I'll wager they'll have what you're looking for."

  He made a mental note. "Thanks. I'll be sure to do that."

  She smiled at him. "It was great talking to you again, Reid. I look forward to seeing what you're going to do with the building."

  "Good to see you, too, Jillian. And thanks for the info."

  He browsed the books and selected a few that had what he needed. Realizing he hadn't had a library card since . . . hell, probably since high school, he went to the front desk and applied for one.

  But he didn't have a Hope address, either.

  "I'm staying at the ranch during the renovation."

  Jillian nodded. "That's fine." She typed into the system. "We'll just use the ranch address as yours. I don't think you're going to run off with our books."

  He laughed. "Unlikely. I promise to have them back on time."

  After he thanked Jillian and left the library, he put the books in his truck and checked his watch.

  It was time to head over to Samantha's for dinner. He'd have to go to the chamber and the historical society tomorrow. He typed a note into the calendar on his phone so he'd remember to do that.

  At least he felt like he'd accomplished something today. Tonight, after dinner, he'd look over these books and see what he could find, so he could return them to the library.

  But for now, his stomach grumbled, since he hadn't had lunch.

  Spaghetti dinner was sounding good.

  Chapter 3

  AFTER MAKING THE meat sauce and letting it simmer, Samantha went to take a shower, deciding she was going to approach tonight's dinner with Reid in an extremely low-key manner.

  It was just dinner and blueprints, and nothing more than that. He had work to do, and she was very busy with the flower shop. He likely had no desire to get involved, and neither did she.

  Well, actually, she'd very much like to get involved with Reid. At least physically.

  What woman wouldn't? He was highly successful, drop-dead gorgeous, and, if nothing else, she'd bet he was fun to make out with. No harm in that, right?

  Nothing that happened between them could ever be considered long-term, because he had a career in Boston. So they could maybe have a fling.

  Except she didn't even know if he was interested in her.

  Nothing like setting the flowers out before the vase, huh, Sam?

  Dinner and blueprints. That was it.

  She'd selected a couple of bottles of wine--a white and a red--so Reid could choose what he liked. She'd also bought beer, because a lot of guys preferred that instead. She knew the McCormack brothers were beer drinkers, so she figured Reid might not be a wine fan.

  Bread was warming in the oven. Now all she had to do was make the salad.

  She was just about to start that when the doorbell rang.

  Her pulse rate kicked up.

  Ridiculous. This wasn't a date. It was Reid stopping by for dinner so she could get her hands on those blueprints and pick his brain about the mercantile renovation.

  Nothing more, Sam. So just relax.

  She opened the door and was surprised to see him standing there holding a bottle of wine.

  "Hi, there," she said, unable to fight back those nervous butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach. "Come on in."

  He handed her the bottle as he stepped inside. "I figured since you were nice enough to invite me to dinner, I should at least bring some wine."

  "That's awfully thoughtful of you, Reid, and totally unnecessary, especially since I practically bullied you into coming to dinner."

  He frowned as he followed her into the kitchen. "You didn't bully me."

  "Now you're being nice. I ran at the mouth and threw dinner into the mix. You w
ere polite to say yes. Sorry about that. I really am interested in seeing the blueprints, and I was kind of out of time and I knew you were busy and all, so this was my next best solution. But hey, you'll get an awesome dinner out of it, so there's that."

  He laughed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm more than a little hungry, and Des is back in town after doing a press junket for a movie. She and Logan are in reunion mode, so I'd just as soon leave the two of them alone. You actually saved me from feeling like a third wheel."

  "I'll accept the savior role. Now, how about we have some wine? Or would you prefer beer?"

  "Wine sounds good."

  She held up the bottle he'd brought. "Let's start with this one."

  She opened the wonderful cabernet, then poured it into glasses, handing one to him. "Come on into the living room. We'll sit and drink, and you can tell me how it went today."

  She motioned to her small living room, so he headed that way and she followed. She tried to focus on making her way into the room, but he was right in front of her, and his jeans cupped his butt so nicely she couldn't help but look.

  Reid had one amazing butt.

  He took a seat on the sofa, so she grabbed a spot on the other end and set her glass on the end table, then half turned to face him.

  All the McCormack men were good-looking, but there was something about Reid's dark good looks and intense green eyes that just . . . got to her. Maybe because when she looked at him, he looked back. Like . . . really looked back, as if he saw her the same way she saw him.

  With interest.

  It had been a long time since she'd been interested in any guy. Between managing the floral shop and taking care of her grandmother, Sam didn't have a lot of time to date.

  Maybe that's why Reid sparked her interest. He was temporary, and temporary totally worked for her right now.

  "This is a nice place you have here, Sam."

  "Thanks. It's not exactly the house of my dreams. It's a small two-bedroom, but I bought it because it's just a few houses down from my Grammy Claire's place, so it's convenient."

  "Oh, right. How is your grandmother doing?"

  "She's adjusting to life without my grandpa. He died a couple of years ago, which was hard on her. I offered to move in with her, but she's as independent as they come, so my being close was the next best thing. She's eighty-three now. And she still insists on driving, which scares the hell out of me."