Page 5 of Take This Heart (Windy Harbor #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

IT’S PERSONAL

MILO

How the fuck is this my luck?

I like Everett Whitman a lot. We’ve become friends in a short amount of time, and I love what a visionary he is.

And this stretch of waterfront property is stunning, no question.

Sweeping lake views, pine-scented air, and enough light to make any architect go old school and pull out their sketchbook and scaled ruler.

But I had no idea she was his daughter.

Goldie Whitman.

This is going to be a problem.

The woman whose voice has been in my head for days—sharp, clever, and a little reckless.

The woman whose mouth I regret chasing away with my stupid mouth because I couldn’t just keep it shut.

It was the best kiss of my life. And now she’s across the room in a sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder, looking six ways to Sunday beautiful, while her dad outlines the plans for a sprawling resort that I’d normally be dying to work on.

I’ve heard Everett talk about Goldie a lot. She’s the shiny apple of her dad’s eye.

“I’ve wanted this land for years,” Everett says, practically glowing. “A thousand acres of pristine lakefront. I want you all to be a part of it as much as you can. We could put a wellness retreat in the existing lodge, update the cabins, build a gorgeous hotel up on the ridge. Can you imagine?”

My chest tightens. I can imagine.

“You mean the ridge where we used to sled every winter?” Goldie asks. “Where the treehouse collapsed and you swore we wouldn’t go near it again?”

“And you won’t.” He grins. “Because we’re going to bring new life to the place. Aren’t we, Milo?”

Everyone turns toward me.

I nod, but slowly. “If you get the land, there is endless potential.”

“Is someone else bidding on the property?” Noah asks.

Everett’s eyes narrow. “Bruce Granger.”

What? Fuck me. This is the first I’ve heard about Bruce wanting this property. What the hell. It just gets worse.

The name sends a ripple of anger through the family, and I wonder what Bruce did to get on their bad side.

They’ve seemed like such a calm bunch until now—well, except for the sassy blonde whose kisses have haunted my dreams every night since we met.

Last time I heard from Bruce, he was talking about building a hotel near the Boundary Waters.

Everett is still holding court behind me, talking about the property like it’s folklore.

“It borders the ridge line all the way down to Clearwater Point. I’ve wanted that land since I was a teenager.

Never thought the opportunity would come, but here we are.

And there’s no way in hell I’m letting the Grangers walk away with it.

They’ve spent a lifetime trying to ruin me, and I wish they’d give up already. ”

“Why does that man always show up at the worst times, trying to ruin everything?” Goldie had looked like she might nap earlier, curled up in that cozy chair, but now restless energy bounces off of her.

She stands off to the side, arms crossed, mouth tight, eyes flicking between me and her dad like we’ve both betrayed her.

She doesn’t know the half of it.

The way they’re talking about Bruce and the Grangers sounds like they’re the only thing standing in the way of Everett getting the land he’s always wanted. Everett is a stand-up guy. What did the Grangers do to get on his bad side?

I’m digging myself into a deeper hole. The more the name Granger is mentioned, the more I’m certain I wouldn’t be allowed in this house if they knew the truth.

I should mention it now, but I don’t. I’m still too shaken that Goldie is here, that she’s Everett’s daughter.

That, potentially, I might be seeing a helluva lot more of her than I realized.

“Tell us what you’re thinking,” Everett says, turning to me with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “You’ve got some ideas, I know. Don’t be shy.”

I glance at Goldie and then at her brothers around her. Their faces are a lot friendlier.

I clear my throat. “Honestly? The land’s incredible. We can do a ton with it. Smarter structures. Integrated water systems. Minimalist builds with full-window lake views. Elevated walkways for accessibility. Modern materials—glass, steel, stone.”

Goldie scoffs. “We grew up on that land,” she says, voice softer now.

“Hanging out with the guests who stayed in the cabins. There’s a clearing where my brothers used to camp out every summer.

My mom would bring lemonade and tell us stories about the lake spirits.

You build a steel structure there, and I swear I’ll chain myself to a pine tree. ”

“That might complicate permitting,” I say dryly.

She glares at me. “This isn’t just about you and your sleek ideas.

It’s about roots and memory. My mom’s gone, and this place is what’s left of her.

I’m not going to stand by while it turns into another metal-and-concrete tribute to capitalism.

You want to glass over everything that makes this place real. ”

The room is still as everyone’s gaze ping-pongs between Goldie and me. Tully and Camden have eased next to Goldie protectively, Tully crossing his arms as he stares at me.

A loon cries out in the distance. The sound never fails to make my chest ache.

“I didn’t come here to erase anything. I want to honor the land while making it sustainable, desirable, and usable year-round,” I say.

Her voice drops an octave. “You want to make it a luxury destination with infinity pools and helicopter landing pads.”

“Oh, you’ve seen inside my mind and know what I want?”

“Someone has to. You clearly haven’t looked at the soil erosion data or the wildlife survey.” Her chest is rising and falling, pink dusting each cheek.

“Okay, okay, let’s not get hostile,” Everett says, clearing his throat.

“We’re not hostile. We just have incompatible visions,” she says.

I let out a long whoosh of breath. “I apologize,” I say, looking at Everett. “I’m here to bring your ideas to life, should you get this land.”

Goldie’s head falls back and she groans. “He wants to tear down Spoonbridge and Cherry, for God’s sake.”

Damn, she’s something when she’s mad. Her cheeks flush, and her hands gesture like she’s trying to lasso the right words. Her sweatshirt is slipping off her shoulder again, and the distraction is criminal.

“That thing is iconic,” Tully says.

“Right?” Goldie says, flinging her arm out.

“I don’t want to tear it down. I simply want to move it so someone else can enjoy it.”

Tully looks between Goldie and me and I can see his wheels turning.

“Sounds fair,” he finally says.

Goldie groans again.

Everett puts his arm around his daughter and squeezes her shoulder. “Hey, don’t run Milo off before he’s even gotten started.” He laughs.

“I’m sensing we missed another important conversation somewhere along the way,” Camden says, barely containing his laughter.

“Yeah, what did you do to get Goldie all worked up?” Noah says, laughing. “Our little free spirit here rarely gets wound so tight.”

Goldie folds her arms again, like she’s holding herself together. “Shush, all of you.”

Dylan comes over and kisses her cheek. “I didn’t say anything.”

She turns to him and puts her hand on his cheek, smiling up at him. “Another reason you’re my favorite,” she says sweetly.

“Hey,” her brothers all protest.

It’s hard not to laugh at that.

“You really believe you can design something that matters here, Milo Lombardi?” she asks.

I meet her eyes. “If you’ll let me.”

“Don’t forget we don’t own the land yet,” Noah says.

“We will,” Everett says. “Anyone need dessert? I sure do. I’ve got Dutch apple pie with that hard sauce from the Pioneer Woman’s website. Except I did rum instead of whiskey.”

“Hanging out with the Pioneer Woman again, huh, Dad?” Camden teases.

“She was your mom’s favorite,” Everett says, smiling fondly. “Besides your fancy ass cooking, of course.” He winks. “She got a kick out of that woman’s humor.”

“Good for us…because she introduced a lot more butter into our diet,” Goldie says, rolling her eyes.

Everett pokes her in the side and she jumps, laughing and yelping. They go into the kitchen, chatting happily.

And I stand, once again watching her walk away, and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.