Page 7 of Designing Love (Bluewater Cove #2)

UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

Sophia

S and crunches softly beneath my sandals, tiny grains slipping between my toes as I meander aimlessly along Bluewater Cove’s tranquil shoreline. The beach is mostly deserted today, save for a few gulls squabbling over what looks suspiciously like someone’s abandoned sandwich.

“I’m just saying, Sophia, this is the kind of contract you used to kill for,” my best friend Jenna insists through the phone. Her voice is a mix of confusion and disbelief, like I’ve just announced I’ve taken up professional clowning.

“I know, Jenna. Trust me, I’m painfully aware of that.

” I sigh, watching a tiny crab scuttle away from my shadow.

“It’s just, maybe I’m... reevaluating things?

I wish I could do something that feels good, like flip an old house, like in the good old days.

Something that reminds me of who I was. Does that make sense? ”

“No, it doesn’t,” she retorts bluntly. “You, Sophia Carter, the woman who color-codes her sock drawer, are reevaluating? Are you running a fever?”

“Very funny,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see. “Look, I know this is a bit out of character, but maybe that’s exactly why I need to do it.”

There’s a long pause punctuated by the gentle rhythm of waves breaking against the shore.

“Okay,” Jenna says cautiously. “Let’s pretend I buy this existential-crisis Sophia. What exactly are you doing instead? Meditating? Painting? Joining Sage in crystal therapy sessions?”

I laugh softly despite myself, bending down to pick up a perfectly smooth stone and turning it over thoughtfully in my palm. “Maybe all three. But mostly, I’m just trying to breathe. I haven’t done that in a long time, Jen.”

“Breathing?” Her voice softens slightly. “Soph, breathing won’t pay your bills or support your obsessive shoe-buying habit.”

I smile faintly. She isn’t wrong. “I’ll manage. I’ve got some savings. Plus, Sage is — well, you know Sage. If I ever run out of money, she’ll pay me to feng shui her entire gallery. Again.”

Jenna groans playfully. “Oh gosh. Anything but that. Remember when she insisted on hanging that twelve-foot abstract sculpture upside down because it ‘channeled the energies better’?”

I chuckle, shaking my head at the memory. “You have to admit, it was a conversation starter.”

“Yeah, if the conversation was ‘Did an earthquake hit?’”

I laugh openly this time, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “Thanks, Jenna. Really. I needed this.”

Her voice softens again, tinged with genuine concern. “Soph, just promise me you’re okay.”

“I promise. Or at least, I’m on my way there.”

We say our goodbyes and I tuck my phone into my pocket, taking a deep breath of salty air. The breeze plays with my hair, teasing loose strands around my face. Closing my eyes briefly, I let the rhythm of the waves settle something restless inside me.

Tranquility envelopes me, and as I turn to go, my sandal suddenly hits something solid and unyielding. My eyes fly open as I stumble forward, arms windmilling gracelessly before strong hands grab my shoulders, steadying me firmly.

“Careful there.” A familiar voice chuckles. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

Heat immediately floods my cheeks as I meet Ethan’s amused gaze. “Oh gosh, Ethan. Seems your clumsiness is contagious!”

“Hey, not fair. I tend to resemble that remark.” He grins, gently releasing me. He nods toward the phone poking out of my pocket. “Important call?”

“Sort of.” I shrug, sighing lightly. “A job offer. A big one, actually.”

His brows furrow slightly, something flickering in his expression. “Congratulations?”

“Thanks,” I laugh softly, “but I haven’t accepted it. Not sure if I want to.”

He raises an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “Why not?”

“Because...” I pause, chewing my lower lip uncertainly, “I’m trying to figure out if that life still fits me. Or if maybe... maybe something else does.”

He nods slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Well, speaking from experience, sometimes the unexpected path is exactly what you need. Maybe what you’re searching for is right here.”

Our gazes hold a second longer than they should, the silence thickening between us. His eyes are warm, inviting, and dangerously distracting. Were they always this moody grey?

“So, speaking of dreams,” he begins carefully, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Remember I said I accepted the challenge to find you an old house to flip…”

“You didn’t!”

He nods, an almost boyish grin sneaking across his lips. “There’s an old house on the outskirts of town. From the 1800s.”

“I think Sage might have mentioned it. Called it a death trap,” I say dryly, smiling a little. “Apparently haunted by rats and ghosts, right?”

“Ah, she undersold it.” Ethan laughs, his tone playful. “There are probably raccoons, too.”

“Wow. Now, you’ve piqued my interest. It’s for sale?”

“It was. I just bought it.”

“You… what?” My eyebrows shoot up, astonished. “Why?”

“Investment,” he replies immediately, then shrugs, looking away. “I was thinking it could be a good investment, since I knew someone looking for a renovation challenge. It’s a quirky place, tons of potential. And, uh, I figured…” he hesitates again, shifting on his feet.

“Figured?” I gently prompt, enjoying the sight of Ethan looking genuinely flustered as the redness in his cheeks betrays him.

He rubs his chin, avoiding eye contact. “Okay, hear me out. I thought maybe you could come take a look and give me your professional opinion.”

“You mean — my professional interior designer’s opinion?”

“Yes, exactly,” he says enthusiastically, relief evident on his face. “You used to flip old houses. This could be perfect. Fresh perspective, all that. Maybe tell me if I’ve lost my mind or if the raccoons should stay.”

I laugh despite myself, folding my arms across my chest and giving him a teasing look. “Hmm, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’ve impulsively bought a dilapidated, critter-infested old house, and now you’d like me to come inspect your new kingdom and possibly confirm your madness?”

“Exactly.” Ethan’s eyes crinkle with humor, though there’s genuine hopefulness behind his smile. “Interested?”

“I’m intrigued, that’s for sure,” I admit softly, heartbeat quickening at how he gazes at me — openly, earnestly. I bite my lip, hesitating. “But are you sure? I’m not really looking for work right now…”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, his voice reassuring. “No pressure. It can just be a walk-through, a casual consultation between friends. Friends can critique questionable real estate decisions, right?”

“Friends already, huh?” I tease, punching his shoulder lightly.

Ethan reels back a full step, one palm pressed dramatically to his chest while the other swoops to his forehead like a fainting Victorian. “Friendly acquaintances, who share an affinity for good coffee and impulsive decisions?”

“Better.” I grin, nodding decisively. “Okay, I’ll look at your raccoon palace.”

“Great!” Ethan’s face lights up immediately, relief washing over his features. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow works,” I confirm, surprised by how easy it feels to agree. How easy it feels to imagine spending time with Ethan, wandering through a broken-down house and dreaming together. I shake off the thought quickly, clearing my throat.

“I can’t promise miracles, though,” I add with mock severity. “There’s only so much even I can do about ghosts.”

Ethan chuckles, his eyes catching the fading sunlight, reflecting warmth and laughter. “As long as the ghosts pay rent, we’re good.”

I shake my head, amused. “Deal.”

We pause, standing together in the gentle hush of the waves, the quiet space filled with an unspoken understanding.

He shifts his weight slightly, moving closer.

A soft gust of wind brushes hair across my face, and instinctively, Ethan reaches out to tuck the stray lock gently behind my ear, his fingertips lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

The brief brush scorches hotter than the July sun; every reasonable thought tumble-slides straight into the lake.

My breath catches, skin tingling beneath his brief, gentle touch. I stare up at him, heart thumping loudly in my chest, suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing.

Before either of us can speak, a distant shout echoes from the direction of Ethan’s house.

“Ethan! Did you forget we have paperwork to finish?” A figure waves exaggeratedly from the porch.

Ethan sighs, stepping back and shaking his head ruefully. “Apparently, my real estate agent needs me to dot the i's and cross the t’s. Duty calls.”

“Clearly.” I smile, grateful and slightly relieved for the interruption. What am I doing? “I’ll let you go then.”

He steps backward slowly, reluctance visible in every small movement. “Tomorrow, then? I’ll pick you up?”

“Tomorrow,” I confirm softly, warmth blooming gently within me.

“Perfect.” He flashes me another charming grin before turning and jogging up the steps toward his visitor.

I watch him go, a smile lingering on my lips, heart fluttering gently. Tomorrow, indeed.