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She snickers, shaking her head.
"What's that snicker for?" I demand, stopping mid-stride and turning to look her in the eyes. "Seriously. What's the actual problem, Harper? Look, I'm not interested in getting back to any 'old times', you know? We're adults now, so let’s act like it. Just because we have a history––"
She rounds on me, propping her hands on her hips, leaning close enough I can see the rise and fall of her chest. For the first time, that smile falls, and I take her in.
Harper looks better than ever. She was always gorgeous, of course, with those beautiful brown eyes and smooth, creamy skin. Her neck is long and graceful, and her dark hair is longer than ever, hanging beautifully past her shoulders. Her full, red lips pout at me, and her eyes meet mine, flashing brightly under the sunlight from the windows. She looks so angry, and somehow it makes her even more attractive.
But I can't let her get to me. I almost lost my self-control earlier, right before my dad walked in the door.
"I don't have time for this, Deacon. Your temper tantrum is going to have to wait," Harper spits, spinning on her heels and storming away. She leaves so quickly that I'm caught off guard,still standing in the middle of the hallway when she disappears down a side corridor.
Harper is clearly set on making this situation difficult. But that's ok, I don't mind a little excitement, and I definitely never shy away from competition, particularly when it involves her. It's always been part of her appeal, actually. There's no one quite like her, never has been.
Still, I don't want to start off my time here causing scenes in the hallway. I want the staff to respect me, not fear me. So, instead of following after her, I continue heading to my mother's office. I have to find a way to make this work.
Inside, Mom is sitting on a plush leather sofa. Her purse is open on the coffee table in front of her, and she's adjusting the strap to some lavish red bag that is more a piece of art than a usable item.
"Hey, Mom," I say, knocking as I enter. "Keeping busy?"
Mom turns and smiles, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me. She always smiles that way, full of love and grace. She's a good mom and she dotes on Sasha. A lot.
"Darling, what a pleasant surprise. Is everything all right?" She studies my face, and I suspect I don't quite have my emotions under control. She frowns. "Is your father already making things difficult?"
My parents were so ecstatic when Sasha and I showed up early this morning at their house that they instantly forgave me for missing the party. It was a fun surprise. They were even more shocked when I told them I’d take over the resort so they could retire. My dad never liked my job in the city. So I’m hoping that my work here will make him proud of me.
We headed straight to the office to seal the deal. The paperwork was ready, hinting at their hopeful anticipation I would eventually accept. I signed immediately, makingReynolds Resort officially mine as of this morning. It's been quite the whirlwind, and I'm still trying to take it all in.
I quickly shake my head. "No, Mom, it's nothing like that. Dad’s been great. I actually wanted to talk to you and let you know how I'm setting up to deal with... some resistance here. I'd like your advice on how to handle it since you're so close to Harper."
Mom nods and waves me over, making room for me on the sofa. I sigh and ease down beside her. She reaches over and takes my hands in hers. "Now, what's this resistance you're talking about?"
"Harper seems offended by my being here. You didn't tell her I was coming?"
Mom shakes her head, making her jeweled, gold-plated necklace jingle. "No, honey. I honestly didn’t know for sure if you had any intention of coming for the party, let alone taking over the resort. Your father and I hoped the renovation might help encourage you, but we didn’t know what you’d decided."
"No one would have blamed you if you didn't want to come take over a run-down resort that needed a ton of work. But it's all spruced up now, isn't it? Still, I had no expectation you would ever agree to run this place. I didn't want to tell Harper until I was sure. I know you two have quite the past." She winks at me.
What does that mean?
"I guess I have been wishy-washy, huh?" I ask, rubbing my forehead. "At any rate, I'm here now, and Sasha and I are settling in. I'm ready to work just as hard here for the family as I did in the city."
My dad's assistant—I can't remember the woman's name—shuffles in with a silver tray laden with crystal water glasses and the famous home baked cookies my mom is known for around town. Heck, the entire neighborhood used to show up when they caught a whiff of them.
"Where would you like the cookies today, Mrs. Reynolds?" the woman asks.
"Right on my desk is fine, Thelma, thank you."
My mom sweeps away the clutter of paperwork in front of her—contracts, inventory spreadsheets, and employee schedules, from the looks of it—and smiles. Thelma places the tray on her desk and offers me a cookie, which I take with an appreciative nod. "Thank you so much."
Mom sinks back onto the couch beside me and pats my knee. "Would you like me to talk to Harper, darling?"
"Would you?" I'm relieved she's offered. She knows better how to handle her than I ever will.
"Of course. I'll call her down here later."
"Thanks." I let out a soft breath, but I must be more relieved than I realized, because Mom chuckles at me.
"But you've got to tell me something first, Deacon," she says, leaning in so our gazes lock. I brace myself for what I'm certain is going to be a not-so-pleasant question. It isn't as if my mom has ever sugar-coated the truth. "What do you want to get out of this new life you're building? What is it you hope to achieve here at Reynolds Resort?"
