Page 23 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

SIMON SAYS TROUBLE

Ethan

M y phone mocks me from the passenger seat, stubbornly silent. Still no news from Sophia, but it’s still early in Vancouver. I can’t dwell on that now — I’ve got an appointment with the mayor and a stubborn realtor waiting to ruin my morning.

Pulling into City Hall’s cramped parking lot, I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Tired eyes stare back, and I run my fingers through my hair, hoping it looks somewhat presentable. Instead, I manage to achieve a disheveled surfer look. Perfect.

I spot Simon standing outside the entrance, scrolling absently on his phone. His slicked-back hair shines obnoxiously in the sunlight, his designer suit at odds with Bluewater Cove’s casual vibe.

“Morning, Ethan,” Simon drawls, pocketing his phone when he sees me approaching. “I thought maybe you’d bailed on this little fiasco.”

“Not a chance,” I reply flatly, forcing myself not to roll my eyes. “This should be quick. I’m still surprised we need to meet about this.”

“Let’s face it: this town lives for gossip. Could be anyone wanting to throw a wrench in your little fixer-upper fantasy.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” I say, pushing past him toward the doors.

Simon quickly catches up, matching my stride. “So, tell me, where’s your lovely new designer? Sophia, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t mind doing business with her.”

My jaw tightens slightly, but I shrug, pretending disinterest. “In Vancouver.”

His eyebrows lift, an irritating smirk spreading across his face. “Oh? Trouble in paradise already?”

I refuse to look at him, pushing open the heavy wooden door into the foyer. “She had business to attend too.”

Simon chuckles smugly. “Ah! She’s got that mysterious, sexy, unattainable vibe, doesn’t she? Can’t blame you for trying. Frankly, I’ve had my eye on her too. Thought about giving her a call myself.”

My fists clench instinctively, but I force calmness into my voice. “Pretty sure you’re not her type.”

“Oh? And you think you are?” Simon snorts, clearly enjoying himself. “Let me guess: You played the sensitive card? Women love a good sob story, Ethan. But face it, Vancouver suits her better than your quirky, small-town project.”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that punching Simon wouldn’t solve anything, no matter how tempting.

Before I can respond, the mayor’s assistant, Janice, waves us toward the mayor’s office door. “Gentlemen, the mayor’s ready for you now.”

“Saved by bureaucracy,” Simon mutters, still smirking as we enter the office.

Mayor Campbell sits behind his cluttered desk, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he gestures for us to take seats. Papers scatter as he hangs up abruptly.

“Ethan, Simon, sorry about that,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Busy morning.”

“No problem. So, what’s going on with this appeal?”

The mayor sighs heavily, shaking his head. “Honestly, I’m baffled. This appeal came out of nowhere — someone claiming the city didn’t thoroughly track down any relatives who might want the Miller house.”

Simon shifts impatiently. “Which is absurd, considering we did a proper search and followed protocol to the letter.”

“For once, Simon and I agree,” I add dryly.

Mayor Campbell leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Exactly. Legally speaking, it doesn’t have a leg to stand on. It’s likely just someone stirring trouble — maybe hoping you’d back down if things got complicated.”

I glance sharply at Simon, but he looks genuinely confused. I keep my face neutral — no one needs to know .

“So, what does this mean?” I ask carefully.

“It means you’re free to resume work immediately. I’ll sign whatever paperwork you need. Honestly, I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess.”

Relief floods through me, washing away some of the lingering anxiety. “Thanks, Mayor. Really appreciate your help.”

Simon scoffs. “So, this whole meeting could’ve been an email? Fantastic.”

The mayor shoots Simon an irritated glance. “Better safe than sorry, Mr. Reynolds.”

Outside the mayor’s office, Simon straightens his suit jacket with exaggerated flair. “Well, crisis averted, Ethan. Maybe your runaway designer will actually return once you’ve got things moving again.”

Ignoring him, I step outside, pulling out my phone and Sophia’s number. But I stop myself. I wouldn’t want to hurt her negotiations by distracting her.

Simon chuckles softly behind me. “Still no luck, huh?”

I whirl around sharply. “You know, Simon, one of these days, you’re going to say the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment.”

“Relax, Ethan. I’m just pointing out the obvious: maybe Sophia isn’t as invested in this little fantasy as you are. Women like her — big city, successful — they don’t stick around.”

“And you’d know this because?” I snap defensively.

He shrugs casually. “Experience. Women who breeze into small towns for ‘soul-searching’ rarely stick it out. They leave, and men like you are left holding the bag.”

I glare at him, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “Simon, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe,” he concedes lightly, clearly unbothered by my anger. “But when she gets bored with your rustic charm and simple living, send her my way. I’ve got contacts in Vancouver. Could help her out — professionally, of course.”

My fists clench again, but he walks off, laughing softly. Alone on the sidewalk, my stomach churns uncomfortably. Is Simon right? Am I kidding myself, falling for someone who sees Bluewater Cove as a temporary escape?

Pushing the thought away, I stride toward my truck, heart racing. She wouldn’t just leave — not like this. Not without telling me.

I dial Turner’s number to let him know of these developments.

“Hello?” Turner’s voice crackles.

“Mr. Turner, Ethan here. Good news: the mayor cleared everything. We can resume work immediately.”

He exhales audibly. “That was one strange hiccup.”

“Agreed. Meet me at the Miller house in an hour? We need to pick up where we left off.”

“Absolutely,” Turner confirms eagerly. “See you then.”

Starting my engine, I focus on the road ahead. The truck rumbles toward the Miller house, each mile firming my resolve. I’ll get the renovations back on track and go from there.

Because despite everything, and my self-doubt, I’m sure of one thing: Sophia’s worth believing in.