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"But my husband and I would like to extend a very special thank you to Harper Clark, our Head of Marketing. This young woman has taken our humble little resort and transformed it into a piece of art. She has reinvented the way we do things around here, and it's all thanks to her vision and hard work. I amso grateful to have her as part of our family. Harper, please come up.”
My head snaps up in surprise as she beckons to me. I didn’t expect to be a part of her speech, but I do as she says. Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds smile warmly at me, and I feel a sense of pride blooming in my chest. This has truly been a project from the heart for all of us.
I stand beside them as Mrs. Reynolds says, "Without further ado, please join me in celebrating our grand reopening. Let the fun and festivities begin!"
The guests burst into applause, cheering loudly as the music starts up. The lobby is soon filled with happy people dancing to the upbeat tunes. The revelry continues as the food is served, the drinks are poured, and everyone enjoys themselves. It's a glorious night for the Reynolds family. Too bad their only child couldn’t make the effort to be here.
Talking to him for the first time in years tonight has me flustered and my heart beating harder than it should. And I can admit, I'm having trouble getting him out of my head no matter how hard I try. But then, that’s what he’s always done to me. I have never been able to control my emotions when it comes to Deacon. At least I won’t have to deal with him again any time soon.
Chapter three
HARPER
I was up most of the night cleaning after the reopening, but I'm back at my desk by eight am. That's just how much I love my job. First, I need to work on our social media. Until I was promoted, Reynolds Resort didn't even have a social media presence.
With some hard work, we have all major social media platforms covered now, complete with photos of happy guests, information on the area itself, prices, etc. And it's giving us stellar results—our main site is packed with web traffic.
I'm putting together a post about last night's party when there's a knock at my door.
"Come in." I expect to see Lydia to chat about last night's event. But this visitor is entirely unexpected. Instantly, a headache creeps in. Of all people, it had to be him. Deacon Reynolds.
As much as I despise admitting it, grown up Deacon looks even hotter than teenage Deacon. His crisp white shirt hugs his pecs, and his dark tailored trousers just accent his gray eyes. His blackhair is perfectly cut, framing his square jaw. His shoulders are wider than they were in high school, and that says something. He was pretty muscular back then.
Everything about his appearance is put together so neatly. When he flashes that million-dollar smile at me, I frown because he's instantly triggered a tornado effect in my body I can't control. I need a storm shelter stat.
Man, he looks good. No, he looks great. The epitome of the corporate appearance, in person. In high school, it was more like board shorts and ripped jeans with flip flops or beat up tennis shoes. This version is an upgrade for sure.
"Miss me?" he says as he swaggers my way.
As he nears, I can't help but notice how impeccably groomed his stubble is. I find myself longing to run my fingers through it, to see if it's as velvety smooth as it appears. Wait, did he say something?
"Harper?"
Oh no, I think he did. But I need to check out that scruff. No, I don't. I will not be distracted by scruff attached to a man I despise.
"Deacon," I say as I give him a sharp nod while keeping my eyes focused above the jawline. "What are you doing here?"
"I meant to make it to the party last night, but traffic was brutal."
I squint an eye at him. “You didn't mention that when I called you."
"I wasn't aware I needed to report my intentions to you," he replies smoothly, cocking his eyebrow.
He is infuriating. I want him out of my office immediately, even though I admit looking at him is pleasurable. I'll give him five minutes out of respect for his parents.
I plaster on a tight smile, trying to regain my usual upbeat demeanor. A demeanor that I only seem to struggle with when itconcerns this man. When I stand, his gaze trails down my body, and his smirk unnerves me. It brings back so many memories.
Years ago that look was always followed by an irritating remark. The thought of him potentially doing it again drives me crazy. But I shouldn't have to deal with him anymore. High school is in the past.
"Why are you here? In my office, I mean." I ask sharply. He runs his hand through his dark hair. I stare and try to ignore the little spasm in my belly at the sight of his well-built muscles flexing against his shirt.
"I'm making my rounds," he tells me. "I want to meet all of my new employees, starting with you."
My mouth pops open. What does he mean byhisnew employees? This must be a joke. "You’re taking over? It's going to be hard to run the resort from Manhattan," I point out.
There's that smirk again. It takes everything in me to stop myself from strangling him right here on the spot. "It would be. That's why I moved back home."
My heart sinks. "You can't be serious."
