Page 11 of Take This Heart (Windy Harbor #1)

The next morning dawns crisp and clear, with the kind of bright, golden sunlight that should make me feel hopeful. And I am hopeful as I take in glimpses of the water on my drive toward Wildbriar Lane.

Kitty-Corner Cafe is bustling with the chaos that fills me up. Bosco grumbles at everyone who walks in, a staple at the cafe.

“How’s Francine, Bosco?” I ask.

His eyes brighten slightly. “Fatter’n a tick. She caught a mouse last night and laid it at my feet.”

My nose wrinkles up before I can stop it. “Good…for her.”

Juju yells, “If anyone touches that last lemon scone before Goldie gets her hands on it, I swear I’ll start flinging biscotti.”

“Listen to you,” I say, grinning at Juju. “I approve.”

“You know I love you,” she says.

“I love you! And your lemon scones,” I add.

I shrug off my sweatshirt and look at my corner.

It’s the perfect spot by the front window, sunlit in the morning and tucked just far enough from the door to be warm in the winter and breezy in the spring.

When I’m in town, everyone leaves my spot open or moves when they see me coming.

It’s sweet and makes me feel loved around here.

But no. No, no, no.

Not today, Lucifer.

Milo is sitting at my table with his mug of coffee, his dumb, perfect profile looking maddeningly relaxed.

Once I have my coffee and scone, I go and stand over him, glaring and judging his basic coffee. I don’t see even a hint of cream in it.

He’s drawing and it takes a moment for him to look up. When he does, his eyebrows lift slightly.

“Excuse me. You seem to be in my seat.”

“Morning, Whitman. I wasn’t aware it was assigned seating.”

“It is, Lombardi.”

“Fascinating. I just sat down.” He makes a show of inspecting the table and chair. “Nope. Don’t see your name scratched into the wood or embroidered on the cushion.”

“I’ll scratch into the wood all right.”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smile. “Tempting.”

I lean on the edge of the table, trying to get a better look at what he’s been drawing. A magnificent sketch of the antique chairs near the door. Why is that so annoying?

Annoyingly endearing.

Excuse me while I dry-heave.

We stare at each other. The café hums around us, but we’re locked in a stand-off.

“Fine,” he says finally, closing his sketchbook with an obnoxiously patient air.

I blink, momentarily disarmed.

He stands, but instead of picking up his things, he pulls out the chair across from where he’d been sitting—my chair—and gestures to it like he’s a freaking gentleman. As if.

“Sit,” he says. “We can share.”

“Share?”

“It’s a table, not a toothbrush.” He leans in and whispers so only I can hear, “But we’ve kissed, so why would it matter?”

I give him a disgusted look.

Juju snorts behind the counter. “You two are gonna combust. Do it quietly.”

I glance at her, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m taking the side of my entertainment.”

I sigh, drop into my usual seat, and scowl across the table at him. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, his shoulders relaxing like he’s just won something.

“And stop bringing up that lapse in judgment,” I hiss.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives me wide, innocent eyes.

I growl and he laughs.

Back at the house, my dad is set up in the living room, plans and sketches sprawled across the coffee table.

Dad tells Milo and me about a meeting he just had with Meredith Strong, Windy Harbor’s mayor.

He’s keeping her in the loop with our plans and she’s excited about this project, which is great news.

Things go smoother than yesterday. Until Milo brings up a floating staircase in the lodge.

“A floating staircase?” I cut in. “Are we building a villain lair? Is Batman going to make an appearance? How is that charming?”

“It can be done with elements that fit the look you want,” he says, ignoring me.

He slaps another sketch down dramatically.

“Imagine this…separate from the resort, but nearby…closer to the water. A lakeside glass pavilion. Glass on three sides, floor-to-ceiling. Double-paned, well-insulated. In the winter, it’ll be warm inside, with a full lake view.

In the summer, we open the sliding panels along the south side and let the breeze roll through. ”

I narrow my eyes. “That’s…actually not a terrible idea.”

Dad perks up. “You’re keeping the view.”

Milo nods, hands in his pockets like he knows he’s nailing this. “I’m framing the view. Always. We don’t compete with Lake Superior. We collaborate.”

I tilt my head. “Wow. How many times did you practice that line in the mirror?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s a good one, right? I might use it again sometime.”

I shake my head. “Arrogance for days.”

“Only when it’s deserved.” He pulls out another drawing.

“Inside, we’re going with clean lines and reclaimed timber beams from that old barn you mentioned tearing down, Everett.

Radiant floors. Modular seating for gallery exhibits, lectures, small concerts, or meditation if someone is so inclined. ” He grins at my dad.

I make a face. “Always kissing ass.”

He smirks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says under his breath.

I shoot him the deadliest glare I can muster.

“I’m just saying there are possibilities.” His smile is ingratiating and it makes my teeth clench.

This man.

Deep breaths.

“What’s all this?” I point to a drawing of flowers and stone.

That’s what I really care about. How all we’re doing lives with the land.

He motions to the area around the pavilion. “That’s where the stone courtyard goes. Hand-laid limestone, sourced locally. Raised beds around the perimeter with native plants and herbs—some for scent, some for texture, some for pollinators. I want it to feel alive. Not ornamental.”

I blink. I wasn’t expecting him to have given so much thought to this already. He’s already laid out a fabulous plan for the resort and cabins, a restaurant, day spa…the full gamut. But this is next level.

“There could be kinetic sculptures in the corners,” he goes on. “Pieces that move with the wind. Wind chimes, maybe. Perhaps weather vanes designed by local artists. Something unexpected that plays with sound.”

Dad leans over the sketches, nodding slowly. “I like that.” He looks up at me. “Does this inspire you at all, buttercup?”

I hate to admit it, but it does. It really does.

Milo points to another page. “And here—three gas fire features, low and wide, built into rounded stone pits. Not too modern. More organic. They’ll be spaced out to create heat and encourage conversation.

” He glances at me. “I imagine string lights overhead and fleece blankets available in winter. It’s meant to be year-round.

Cozy, even when the lake’s frozen over.”

He says it like that’s easy to do.

But it’s not. Designing something that works with the environment instead of against it is hard.

I keep my voice neutral. “You’re heating a mostly glass structure. That’s not exactly green.”

He nods. “Passive solar homes work well here. We’ll capture the sunshine here.” He points at the southern wall. “And it’ll retain heat and reduce energy use.”

I look back at the view. The lake stretches out in every direction. I can picture this gorgeous glass structure out here where it’d feel like we’re almost walking on water. The bones of this idea are solid.

“Wow,” Dad says beside me. “I love it.”

I sigh and Dad elbows me.

“Come on. Admit it. He’s winning you over.”

I glance at Milo. He’s watching me carefully. Hopeful.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a full smile. But I do say, “It could be…magical.”

The smile that breaks out on his face dazzles.

I feel weak in the knees and I’m sitting down.

This is not good.

His eyes catch mine, and something flickers. Something hot and dangerous.

I look away fast and pretend I didn’t feel it.