Chapter Fourteen
As the designer mocked up a series of interior plans for the new building and Dom started painting the six guest rooms downstairs, Rachael traipsed through the living room, trying to imagine what size baseboards would look best.
She preferred tall and baroque. Painted eggshell.
Although the building wasn’t as old as the inn, she wanted to keep the historic feel. Guests staying in the addition should feel like they’re sleeping in a part of the inn itself. Dark hardwood floors stretched through the living room, kitchen, and into the back. (She’d have to add some scuff to tone down the new shine.) Walls were painted a muted, relaxed shade of tan and the windows were boxed by thick, elaborate molding. Black and white prints of old town Blue Lake decorated the main living space and a well-oiled wood smell filtered through the air.
She’d be happy to stay here, to live here.
It wasn’t perfect yet, but it would be soon.
She fished her phone out of her bag and checked the amount in her checking account. Covering her hand over her mouth, Rachael squelched a scream as the balance reflected a new, ambitious amount.
Thanks to Cole, she’d be able to furnish this place sooner than she thought.
“Well?” Martina Pierre stood in front of the stone-covered hearth, her hands planted on her hips. “What do you think?”
“Your designs are beautiful,” Rachael said, taking a deep, cathartic breath. “I like Option A, the one with the burgundies, evergreens and dark, distressed furniture.”
“That’s my favorite as well. I was hoping you’d go for that one.” Martina nodded decidedly. “When do you want me to place the order?”
“Now.” Smiling ear to ear, Rachael pocketed her phone. “When will it be ready?”
Oh my heavens, this was actually happening.
“You could have tenants as early as next week.”
Rachael shook Martina’s hand, a sense of pride soaring through her. She’d done it. All by herself. Her parents might’ve given her the inn, but the addition was hers. She’d purchased it. She’d done the legwork to make Blue Lake Historical Inn expand from nine rooms to twenty.
As she left Dom to finish painting and Martina pulled away from the front of the inn, Rachael darted upstairs to get ready for Cole’s concert. Tonight, she was going to celebrate. She would let her hair down, and try not to think about the fact that Cole was leaving in the morning.
For one sparkling moment, her personal life was going to be as spectacular as her professional one.
* * *
Cole stood in the dressing room in the same jeans—handkerchief still sticking out the back—spiked vest, and combat boots he’d worn for the show last night. Through the walls, he could hear the crowd cheering, even though Ronnie hadn’t taken his seat behind the drums yet.
Tonight feels completely different from last night, Cole thought, as he guzzled a bottle of Dasani.
Even though Rachael hadn’t shown up to StoneMill yet, she might has well have been standing right next to him. Her feminine floral scent clung to him as if it had absorbed into his skin. And every time he closed his eyes, the delicate features of her face came into view. Her endearing, almond-shaped eyes. Those supple pillow-soft lips. The plumpness of her cheeks when she smiled at him.
He could dream of that angelic face every night…the way he had last night and the night before that.
“Knock, knock.” Rita pushed open the dressing room door. “You descent?”
“You know I am.”
She’d come in to give him the band’s status not five minutes ago.
She strode into the room, leaving the door gaping behind her. “Who knows what you do in here by yourself.” She stopped in the center of the room, an iPad resting in the crook of her arm. “Well get in here!”
As Cole peered out the door and into the hall, the most gorgeous blonde he’d ever seen came into view. She wore tall black heels, a slinky charcoal-gray dress that brushed her ankles. Silver bracelets gathered at her wrist and blonde ringlets fell in tousled waves past her shoulders.
Rachael.
Holy Ibanez, he had to pick his jaw off the floor.
“Hey,” she said, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “I just wanted to say good luck. Or break a leg, or whatever it is you say to singers before they go on stage.”
“Oh god. Cole, you’ve got five minutes.” Rita rolled her eyes and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. He didn’t miss the raised eyebrows and disapproving glare Rita gave him before she exited the room, and he didn’t care.
“This is quite the surprise,” Cole said, taking her hands in his. They were ice cold and trembling. “I’m about to go on.”
“I know, I know, and I thought maybe I should take the tickets and have Rita show me my seat, but I had to ask if I could see you.” She bounced up and down on her toes. “I had to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“Because you stayed at the inn these last few nights, the addition is finally coming together. I ordered the final touches this afternoon.”
Happiness radiated through him at the sight of her gigantic smile.
“That’s great,” he said. “It makes me happy to see you this way.”
And it did.
Damn, it really did. He loved watching her bounce up and down; it made him want to jump right along with her. He felt light, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
He was used to looking out for himself. Watching his own back without caring about anyone else. He didn’t do anything unless it benefited him. Now, seeing Rachael react this way to finishing her plans for the inn…it made Cole want to make her happy again. Send her flowers. Cook her breakfast. Help her paint and fix the freezing-cold water in the upstairs bathroom. He wanted that smile permanently etched on her face, even if that meant he wouldn’t get any immediate gratification from it.
Because seeing her happy made his chest feel oddly light…and warm.
“Anyway,” she said, her cheeks blushing pink, “that’s all I wanted to say.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait.” He caught her by the wrist and guided her back to him.
“Yeah?”
“If I’ve been an ass the last few days, I’m sorry. After what happened in Houston, I didn’t plan on coming here and finding someone like you. You took me off guard.”
Her face scrunched. “In a good way?”
“Yes, in an unexpectedly good way.” He laughed and touched the tip of her nose. “I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to thaw the ice sheet in my chest.”
She grinned as Rita forced her way into the room. “All right Cole, you’re on. Ready?”
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his shoulders back and met Rachael’s warm gaze. “Damn straight.”
Rita’s iPad pinged. “The album for your new cover hit my inbox!” She swiped her finger over the screen and gasped. “Oh my God, you have to see this!” She shoved the iPad in front of Cole’s nose. “You look delicious!”
He drew back so his eyes would adjust to the screen, and when he finally focused, his stomach dropped to his studded boots. The album cover was dark and gritty, with a zoomed-in black and white image of his guitar held over his chest and abs.
“Can I see?” Rachael asked, sliding beside him. “Ooh, that’s…wow.” She bumped his shoulder. “I’d buy it.”
“Me or the album?”
Rita laughed. “Whichever sells for more!”
Rachael didn’t seem to share Rita’s humor.
An email alert popped onto the iPad screen. It read: Cole Turner getting hot and heavy in Blue Lake.
“What’s this?” he thought aloud, and swiped his finger over the notification.
The email expanded to full form before Rita could take the iPad back.
“Lady-killer Cole Turner moves from model beauty to small town bimbo,” he read aloud. “Juicy secrets of his love life revealed inside.”
No effing way.
Rita snatched the device from Cole’s cold hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She read quickly and then nailed him with a grim expression that meant to kill. “I ask you to focus, Cole, that’s all. Is it too much to ask? You break up with Tori West on stage like a freaking dumb ass, refuse to make a public statement about her psychotic attitude, making her look like the damsel in distress, and now this?”
“Where’d it come from?” he asked.
“You tell me!” Rita spun on Rachael and held up the iPad for her to see. “It’s the two of you in a lip-lock in the middle of her kitchen. Looks like they’ve already mocked up the cover for tomorrow’s online magazine. Want to know what it reads?”
“Oh God.” Rachael looked pale as she held her hand to her mouth. “I can guess from the headline. Cole, I’m so sorry.“
With a curse, Cole scrubbed his hands through his hair. “How’d they get the picture?”
Rita whirled on Rachael. “Just what I’d like to know.”
“Hey wait a minute,” Rachael said, putting up her hands. “This isn’t my fault.”
What the devil was happening? How could his reputation swirl down the tubes so fast? Why wasn’t the media focused on his singing and the tour rather than who he was kissing?
Rita planted her hands on her hips. “If it’s not your fault, whose is it?”
“Cool it, Rita.” He stepped between them. “Let’s all take a chill pill for a second.”
Rita pointed at Rachael over Cole’s shoulder. “You probably set this whole thing up and hired someone down at the watering hole to take a picture of the two of you.”
“Look at the picture!” Rachael screeched, tugging at the ends of her hair. “It’s not like I was mauling an innocent bystander. He was kissing me!”
“You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, sweetie,” Rita rambled on. “You wouldn’t have to dangle much in front of Cole to get him to stick his tongue down your throat.”
Rachael recoiled.
“Rita, that’s enough.” Cole faced Rita and braced her shoulders. “No more.”
She grimaced. “How am I supposed to build your reputation when you seem hell bent on flushing it down the toilet?”
“Aren’t you exaggerating?” Rachael mumbled. “I thought bad press was good press.”
“Yes, bad press can be good press, as long as the talent continues to produce good, solid talent,” Rita said simply. “If a singer can’t perform to standard, all that remains is the garbage in his personal life, and then once that goes bland, there’s nothing left. If Cole flushes another concert and—“
“Nobody’s flushing anything.” Cole rolled his eyes.
As he said the words, he knew they were wrong. Rita was right. His career could be ruined if he continued to botch concerts, and for what? A psycho ex-girlfriend who wanted a connection where there was none? A sexy innkeeper from a small town that he was leaving tomorrow?
“I want her gone,” Rita gritted between clenched teeth. “Tomorrow morning that article is going to be all over the Internet and we’re going to have to answer a hell of a lot of questions. If more pictures circulate of you with her, it’ll kill any chance you have of coming out of this.”
“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Rachael said from behind him.
“Well you did,” Rita answered. “You caused trouble for all of us.”
With a hiss, Rita turned on her heel and walked out the door.
As Cole spun and caught Rachael’s gaze, he nearly broke. She looked completely torn. Wrung out.
“I swear I don’t know who took the picture,” she said, her hands still covering her mouth. “The only people who were at the inn this afternoon were Dom and Martina, my designer. It had to be one of them.”
Cole nodded. “Dom, then.”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
“Quite the winner, that one.”
He hadn’t realized he was still holding the water bottle until it crackled from the pressure of his grip. He loosened it, popping the bottle back into form.
“Did I really cause trouble?” she asked, her light eyes shimmering in the dim backstage lighting. “Tell me the truth.”
No reason to lie, right?
“I’m betting the magazine has your address. Come morning, there’s going to be people from the bay area knocking down your door. Your town is going to be turned upside down until they’re satisfied that they’ve unearthed every juicy secret. And they’ll pay handsomely for dirt, too, without caring whether it’s legit or some back alley bullshit fairy tale.” The anger in him rose. “As for me, I’ll have no choice but to give a public statement about what happened in Houston…and here.” He chucked the bottle into the corner. “Looks like the media wants to get personal. Instead of focusing on my music, they want to run my personal life through the mud. Did you cause trouble? No, you didn’t.” He shook his head. “I did it to myself.”
She brushed his arm, but he shook away from her touch. Right now, there was a problem, and he had to fix it. If he stayed focused, performed the show without missing a beat—or forgetting any damned words—he could hold his head high at the next press conference. But if he let Rachael in and let her know how much this whole situation bothered him, how much he hated that the limelight was going to ruin the low-key life she treasured so much…he was liable to fall apart.
“Cole,” she said reaching out for him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think that—“
“It’s all right,” he interrupted, grabbing his guitar and striding into the hall. “I didn’t think either. But I’m thinking straight now. Can you find your way back?”
“Back?”
“To your chair or whatever?” He strummed a few chords from the first song of the show and tried to push out thoughts of Rachael and the way things were going to change for her. “Can you make it back?”
“Yeah, I can take care of myself.” Her voice sounded distant as if spoken in a tunnel. “Again, Cole, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” He longed to glance at her over his shoulder. Take one look at that sweet face. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He buried himself in the song playing itself out on his fingertips. “I wish this had never happened.”
By the time he realized it’d been silent for far too long and turned back around, Rachael was gone.