Page 9 of Take This Heart (Windy Harbor #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHUT DOWN

MILO

I can’t get her out of my head.

Goldie Whitman.

Her artwork was vivid and aching and alive. Like her. Standing in front of her pieces, she looked like she was stitched into every canvas. It was as if I could see her pulse beneath the paint.

I’ve also thought about Everett a lot. I’m still in shock that he’s sick…

and that my uncle wants the same property.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Both are successful businessmen, and it’s not like we’re as large as New York or Chicago; our pool of business moguls is a lot smaller.

And Bruce is specifically relentless about Everett.

This will eventually bite me in the ass.

I’ve put off seeing Bruce, but I can’t any longer.

I rake a hand through my hair and stalk across my penthouse, the skyline of the Twin Cities standing proudly beyond the windows. I like my place. It’s sleek and minimal, but lately, it feels hollow.

I grab my jacket and head to Bruce’s office.

Once I’m inside his building, I slide my cell into my pocket.

The elevator dings, and I step into the vast atrium of my uncle’s building, the polished floor echoing my footsteps.

Anna, the receptionist, a young brunette like all of Bruce’s receptionists have been, lights up when she sees me, her red fingernails pausing their clacking across the keyboard.

“Is Bruce free?” I ask, casting a glance at the enormous clock on the wall.

“He always has time for you,” Anna says, her smile wide. She picks up the phone and lets Bruce know I’m here. “You can head on back.”

“Thanks, Anna.”

Bruce’s office is at the end of a long corridor, the carpet thick, muffling my resolve with each step. I knock lightly and push open the door.

“Hello, Milo.” He rises from behind his desk and rounds it to greet me, his handshake firm.

We’re not one of those families who hugs or exchanges long pleasantries.

Bruce is tall and imposing, his square jaw showing a hint of stubble, his hair graying and cut short.

He’s wearing a three-piece suit, a timeless cut that reeks of money and power.

The same could be said for me. I can appreciate a nice suit and am wearing one myself, albeit somewhat more casual.

I’ll save the three-piece suits for winter.

“What brings you here this afternoon?” he asks, motioning for me to sit. “Can I get you a Scotch?”

It’s always Scotch with him. He pours a glass, lifting it, and I shake my head.

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He grins and brings his glass over to his desk, sitting across from me.

“When were you planning on telling me you were bidding against Everett Whitman?”

Bruce’s lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile. “That’s important to you?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve worked with Everett in the past. He’s a good man.”

He snorts. “Well, working with him was your first mistake. And believing he’s a good man is your second.

I’ve been waiting for you to apologize to me about that project, by the way.

You say you didn’t know how I feel about the Whitmans, but now you do.

It’s outrageous that you’re so blatantly siding with him on anything. ” He gives me a pointed look.

“I have no intention of carrying out this ridiculous vendetta you have against the man. Whatever you have against him is not my business.”

“Your grandpa would be devastated to hear this.”

“What does Grandpa have to do with it? What happened?”

He slams his fist on his desk. “I don’t have time for this. It should be enough that I’m asking you, as family, to back me and not my enemy. I’m appalled by your lack of loyalty. Family sticks together. Haven’t your parents taught you anything?”

“They’ve taught me to be fair and to look for the best in others.”

He scoffs. “I can’t believe how naive you are. I thought...” He shakes his head. “Well, I just thought you were more of a man than this spineless, weak-kneed—” He waves his hand toward me like he can’t even find the word for how pathetic I am.

It’s quiet for a minute as we stare at each other. I have no interest in defending myself. My uncle is incapable of hearing reason when he’s like this, and I’m self-assured enough to know he’s fucking wrong about me.

He clears his throat. “I want this property, Milo, and I want you to help me with the perfect plans.”

“I can’t do that, Bruce. I’m sorry, but I was under the impression the property you wanted was hours away from this parcel of land. I believe in what Everett’s doing. I think he deserves this. I’ll be happy to work with you on another property, but not on this one.”

He frowns. “Do you hear yourself? He’s a fucking Whitman! What do you mean, Everett deserves it? What does he want to put there that’s so deserving?”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to betray his trust to tell you that.”

“You’d really pick that man over your family?” His eyes narrow. “You’ve always been soft, to the point of stupidity.”

I give him a cool look. “Then why did you want me in on this?”

“Because I thought you’d finally learned to play the game.” He leans back, disappointment etched into his features. “You’re more like your dad than I realized.”

My jaw tightens.

His words hang between us, heavy and bitter.

I stand and straighten my jacket. “Thank God for that—my dad is a great man. I have no room in my heart for hate. I’m sorry that you do, Bruce. I really am.”

He doesn’t reply, just watches me as I turn and leave, the door clicking shut behind me. Anna’s eyes flicker with curiosity when I walk past her and nod briskly.

When the elevator doors close, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

My uncle can be intimidating, but I meant what I said.

If he just wants family that mimics his behavior, he shouldn’t have bothered with me.

I’d been more than willing to help him with another project, but not this one.

A few days later, Everett’s number flashes on my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Milo!” Everett’s voice booms through the line. “We got it! We got the property!”

A breath punches out of me. “That’s incredible, Everett.”

“I put in a high bid. Higher than I probably should’ve.” He chuckles. “But dammit, I wasn’t letting that old goat Bruce Granger outbid me. Not this time.”

Relief swells through me. I wasn’t sure Bruce would let the matter go without more of a fight.

“I’m so happy for you.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything, but something holds me back. I’ll tell him in person.

“Now comes the real work.” Everett laughs. “How soon can you get your butt up to Windy Harbor? We need to start talking plans.”

I grin, leaning back in my office chair. “How soon do you want me?”

“Yesterday.”

Windy Harbor hits me like a sucker punch the second I roll in the following Saturday.

The air is crisper here. Boats bob lazily in the harbor. Shops line the main street, the lake glittering in the background. A perfect backdrop.

It feels different than the last time I was here.

Maybe because now, in my mind, this town is tied to Goldie.

To her fire. Her stubbornness. Her family.

I drive down Wildbriar Lane, the main street, eyeing the colorful buildings tucked close together.

A couple of them look like they may have apartments above the shops.

I’ve always loved this town. It has more of a coastal vibe than the usual North Woods vibe—nothing wrong with that, but I appreciate the color and the quirkiness of this place more.

I pull in front of the Kitty-Corner Cafe. Inside, the place smells rich of coffee and baked goods. My stomach growls.

A young woman behind the counter looks up and gives me a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”

I glance around. “I’ll take a cup of coffee…and what smells so good?”

She grins wider. “My cinnamon rolls. Take a look at that top shelf.” She points to the glass cabinet and my eyes go big.

“Hell, yeah, I’ll have one of those.”

She laughs. “Coming right up.”

“Actually…I’m looking for a place to stay. Are there any hotels or rooms available for a few weeks at a time?”

“The nicer places are about half an hour up the lake. Our lodge closed, and now Windy Harbor just has a few places over our shops. They’re usually occupied, but we’ve got one open right above us. Cozy little studio. Nothing fancy, but the view’s not bad.”

I nod. “Can I see it? I’m not sure when I’ll need it exactly, but I’d like to know my options.”

She opens a drawer and pulls out a key. “Go on up. I’ll work on your coffee and heat up your cinnamon roll.”

“Thanks.” I look to see if she’s wearing a name tag, but she’s not.

“I’m Juliana, but everyone calls me Juju.”

“I’m Milo. Nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

“Juju, you didn’t tell me you’d put in a new oven!

” Goldie comes out of the kitchen and comes to a dead stop when she sees me.

Her hair’s twisted up in some messy knot that still somehow looks like it belongs on a magazine cover, a few strands falling over her cheek.

Her mouth parts and I can’t help but grin.

Her eyes narrow.

I chuckle. Everything I do seems to rub this woman the wrong way.

She sighs. “This is my coffee shop.”

"Didn’t realize it," I say, leaning an elbow casually on the counter. "Maybe you should put up a sign. ‘Beware: Goldie Whitman. Death by rudeness.’”

“Very funny. I guess I’m gonna have to get used to seeing you in my town, huh,” she says, folding her arms.

“Is it your town? Are you claiming Minneapolis too?” I lift my shoulder. “You can’t just take over the whole state.”

She growls. "If you’re looking for a fight, Lombardi, you’re going to lose."

I grin. "Define ‘lose.’ Because sparring with you sounds like my kind of morning workout."

Juju covers her mouth as she laughs, looking between the two of us with interest.

“Don’t scare off a potential renter, Golds!” she says.

Goldie’s hands go to her hips and she shakes her head. “No. You’re not letting him stay here, are you?” She scowls at Juliana. “So I’ll have to see you every time I want coffee?” Her head falls back and she groans.

“Wow,” I say. “Dramatic much?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Juju whispers, giggling. “We’ve been best friends since we were little and she’s always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“I heard that!” Goldie groans.

Juju points to a door in the back corner. “The apartment is that way.”

The apartment is small but clean, with windows that overlook the lake. Hardwood floors. A little kitchen tucked into the corner. A nice couch and a bed. Not exactly the luxury of my penthouse, but it’ll do.

Everett expects me to stay at the house, but with his family coming in and out, I don’t want to be in the way.

I’m sure Goldie will be happy about this decision.

I go back down and collect my coffee and cinnamon roll. And holy hell, my eyes sink back into my head when I taste the cinnamon roll. I’ll have to up my running if I live above this place.

“These are criminal,” I tell Juju. “Instantly addicted.”

She laughs. “Glad to know you’ll be back. What did you think of the place?”

“It’ll be great. I’ll find out my schedule and stop back in once I know.”

“Sounds good.” She smiles.

“I don’t know—it’s no penthouse apartment,” Goldie says.

I smirk. “You gathering intel on me, G. Waters?”

Her cheeks flush. “No. Just took a wild guess.”

“Mm-hmm.” I knock on the counter. “Thanks, again, Juliana.” I look at Goldie again. “Guess I’ll see you at the house.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

I smirk once again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”