Page 17 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

WHEN PLANS COLLAPSE

Ethan

S unlight spills through the cracked windows of the Miller House, illuminating dust motes swirling lazily in the air.

Sophia stands beside me, notebook in hand, nodding enthusiastically as Mr. Turner — the town’s most patient and least skeptical contractor — points out details that make my wallet quietly weep.

But it’s for a good cause... to help jump-start Sophia’s creativity.

“So, you sure you want to preserve the crown molding?” Turner asks, pencil poised mid-air as though the answer might make or break his entire week.

“Yes, definitely,” Sophia insists, excitement brightening her face. “Original details matter.”

“Of course they do,” I agree quickly, ignoring the rising estimate of zeros this project might tally up.

Sophia smiles, brushing my arm lightly, sending a ripple through me that makes my next conversation with my accountant seem bearable. I return her smile, feeling more confident by the second.

“Now,” Turner continues, glancing dubiously at the ceiling, “we’ll need to discuss…”

The door crashes open, sending all three of us spinning toward the noise. Simon, our town’s most arrogant and perpetually inconvenienced realtor, storms in like a hurricane wearing expensive loafers.

“Ethan Reed,” he snaps, pointing accusingly at me as he catches his breath. “You’re impossible to track down. I shouldn’t have to chase clients around town like an unpaid intern.”

“You know, you’re allowed to call before barging in, right?” I mutter dryly.

Simon narrows his eyes and then huffs. “I did call. Multiple times. Check your phone occasionally, Ethan.”

I frown, patting my pockets and realizing — too late — I don’t have my phone. Fantastic.

“Sorry. Must’ve left it in my truck. What’s the big emergency?”

Simon sighs theatrically, rolling his eyes skyward as though personally affronted by my very existence. “The city has been trying to reach you all morning. There’s an appeal against the sale. Something about questionable paperwork.”

Sophia stiffens beside me, confusion crossing her features. “What appeal?”

“Hey there, you’re new in town. I’m Simon,” Simon says, walking closer to Sophia while extending his hand. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. “Maybe we should grab a drink sometime?”

“Maybe not.” Sophia replied flatly.

He shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He finally turns back to me. “So, the city says everything stops until further notice. And guess who had to drop everything to deliver that news?” He points dramatically at his chest. “Me. Like I don’t have important things to do.”

“Questionable paperwork?” I glare at him, irritation bubbling up fast. “Wasn’t checking the paperwork your entire job, Simon?”

He sputters indignantly, waving his arms. “Everything was approved. I can’t control every nosy busybody in town, Ethan.”

Sophia steps closer, a calming hand on my arm, voice gentle. “It’s fine. Let’s just find your phone and figure it out.”

I exhale slowly, nodding. “Simon, you’re coming with me to city hall. If there’s paperwork trouble, you’re explaining it.”

Simon scowls, lips pursed like he’s tasted something sour. “Oh, wonderful. This is exactly how I planned my afternoon.”

Sophia glances at Turner apologetically. “Can we reschedule? Apparently, Ethan needs to yell at Simon for a while.”

Turner chuckles sympathetically, scribbling in his notes. “Take your time. I’ll double-check the foundation. Again.”

We step outside, and Sophia gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be fine, Ethan. I’ll wait at Sage’s gallery. Call me?”

“Promise,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. She smiles softly, walking down the path as Simon opens the door to his car to get in.

“Let’s get this over with. I’ve already wasted half my morning.”

“Poor you,” I mutter dryly, climbing in my truck.

* * *

C ity hall smells like stale coffee and institutional boredom. Simon trails reluctantly behind me, occasionally sighing loudly to remind everyone of his suffering. We step into the cramped office of Mr. Edwards, the permits clerk, who looks instantly nervous at our arrival.

“Ah, Ethan, finally,” Edwards greets cautiously. “We’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I heard. Simon here delivered your message with all the charm of a grumpy toddler.”

Simon rolls his eyes, collapsing into a chair with a disgusted sigh. “Can we hurry this along? My afternoon’s imploding as we speak.”

Edwards shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the door as if considering an escape route. “Someone has filed an appeal against your purchase. They claim we failed to check for surviving heirs to the Miller estate thoroughly.”

Simon immediately throws up his hands, exasperated. “That’s ridiculous! The Millers have been gone for ages. Everyone knows there are no heirs.”

Edwards clears his throat nervously. “Nonetheless, the city has paused all renovation permits until further investigation.”

“Who filed this?” I ask sharply, irritation rising.

“I can’t say,” Edwards mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “They requested confidentiality.”

Simon groans loudly, tipping his head back. “So now we’re stuck in bureaucratic limbo. Marvelous.”

I turn toward Simon, my voice tightening. “You sure you didn’t miss something, Simon? You did actually check the paperwork?”

“Of course I did. I’ve sold half of this town without problems. Clearly, someone’s messing with you.”

Messing with me? That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have any enemies.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Can we fight it?”

Edwards shifts uneasily. “Only the mayor can override this decision now. I’m sorry, but the earliest we can arrange a meeting is Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Simon gasps as if he’s just received tragic news. “That’s three days of constant phone calls I’ll have to endure from Ethan.”

“You’ll survive. You’re tougher than you look,” I deadpan.

Simon shoots me an offended glare as we leave Edwards’ office. Outside, he crosses his arms, shaking his head bitterly. “If you’d just answered your phone, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I glare right back. “Or if you’d done your job properly, we wouldn’t have a paperwork problem.”

He scowls, turning away. “Whatever. Call me Thursday when you’re ready to drag me into the next bureaucratic nightmare.”

I watch him stomp off toward his office, feeling more helpless than angry. Climbing into my truck, I pull out my phone, hesitating briefly before dialing Sophia.

I decide to go to the art gallery. This isn’t a phone conversation.

I drive up Main Street and park in front of the gallery. I spot Sophia through the window, thoughtfully rearranging a display of brightly colored pottery. The sight of her instantly lifts my spirits.

She looks up, eyes softening as she spots me stepping onto the sidewalk. “So, how bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” I admit, frustration evident in my voice. “Someone’s challenged ownership. The city froze everything.”

Her brow furrows, concern shadowing her eyes. “Do you know who did it?”

“I wish I knew,” I sigh heavily, rubbing the back of my neck. “Confidential informant! The worst part is we might lose Turner if this drags out too long. Contractors aren’t exactly patient.”

Sophia winces sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. When will we know more?”

“Thursday,” I groan. “Until then, we’re stuck.”

She hesitantly reaches out, gently brushing her fingertips against mine, a quiet reassurance that settles my nerves. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

I nod slowly, my heart warming despite the bureaucratic mess. “Speaking of which, do you want to pick paint colors or something? We could pretend everything’s fine for a bit.”

Her lips quirk into a gentle smile. “First, we definitely need coffee.”

“Definitely,” I echo, a genuine grin breaking through my irritation. “Shall we head to Lucas’?”

“We absolutely should.”

We walk side by side down Main Street, the familiar sights and sounds of Bluewater Cove wrapping around us comfortingly. Sophia elbows me lightly as we pass Simon’s office, mischief flickering in her eyes.

“Hey, Ethan?”

“Hmm?”

“You think Simon will ever forgive you for ruining his morning?”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “He’ll probably send me his therapist’s bill.”

Sophia laughs softly, the sound immediately easing the tension in my chest. “I’ll pay half.”

“Deal,” I chuckle, feeling a weight lift slightly from my shoulders.

We turn the corner toward Lucas’ café, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcomes us. I open the door for her. She walks by so closely, her perfume makes my heart race.

Bureaucratic nightmares aside, this moment — with Sophia by my side, laughter and hope lingering in the air — feels perfect.

Maybe the Miller House isn’t going smoothly yet. But as long as Sophia’s here, I have a feeling everything eventually will.