Page 88 of Just One Chance

Barrett's last name wasn't Westbourne, and he wasn't related to the family. I'd done my research on the plane. The family was on the board of directors but otherwise not involved in the day-to-day decisions. It was not the same as Hart Inn. "I usually spend some time touring the facilities and getting a feel for the area and clientele. Then we can reconvene and go over my suggestions."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Miss Barnes. I intend to convince you to work for Westbourne Hotels full-time."

I chuckled without any humor because he was confident that was the likely outcome. "I run a business. I don't work directly for anyone."

"We'll see about that," he murmured as our food came.

He removed his laptop so that we could eat. He proceeded to give me the spiel for the hotel chain. Why they started and how they expanded.

When we were finished eating, I said, "Your rooms are updated, and your lobby and restaurant are pure luxury. Why do you need a designer?"

"I'm curious to see what you could do for us. I'm sure you won't disappoint."

He'd want something different, not the snow room that I'd suggested for Hart Inn. He wanted the equivalent of that here in the city. The first thing that came to mind was a rooftop garden. But I wasn't sure if that was unique enough in New York. Plenty of hotels had outdoor space. It was a necessity in the city. I'd have to stretch my imagination to find something equally unique.

"It was very nice to meet you, Miss Barnes. My assistant will give you a tour of the building. I'm looking forward to the presentation of your suggestions. I'm hoping, since I'm paying a bonus, that the information will be accelerated."

"What I do is a creative process, and I generally can't rush it, but I'll do my best." Barrett was used to people jumping when he said to. I was aware of his desire to get a speedy consultation, but I wasn't sure if my brain was going to cooperate.

"See that you do."

I spent the rest of the day touring rooms that all looked the same and the sparse rooftop that offered a large pool and a bar. There was a space for parties. But otherwise, it lacked any personality. I was sure it was fine for New York. But I could do something more with this space.

I envisioned some kind of glass room on the roof, maybe a green house or just a space where guests could be indoors but enjoy the view and stargaze. An atrium? Or a greenhouse? Maybe both? I was excited that I'd thought of something so quickly.

As I went through room after room, I had an idea for a personal assistant that could assist the guests on their stay. There were services that did this, but it didn't seem like anyone had a true one-on-one experience available to their guests. I made a note of the idea and then returned to listening to my guide—Preston, I think was his name—drone on about the top-shelf liquor available at the bars.

An upscale hotel wasn't unique in New York. The amenities and services were what guests were looking for.

Barrett insisted that I eat dinner in the dining room with him and a few of the other higher-ups. By the time I was alone in my room, I was exhausted. I needed time and space to generate ideas. And even though I felt a few flash into my head during the day, most of my creativity was squashed with the endless prattle about modern decor and state-of-the-art technology.

Outside, there was a lot of noise I was no longer used to. Hart Inn was quiet, with nothing but the sound of the wilderness. The loss was a constant ache in my chest.

I kind of hated the noise and rush of New York right now. I was sure I just needed some time to adjust from Colorado's quiet wilderness to the bustle of the city. But I wasn't positive I would.

I desperately wanted to get back on a plane and head to Denver so that I could talk to Boone. I hated that there was so much distance between us.

He hadn't texted since last night. He'd probably already moved on. Our relationship was only supposed to last while I was in town after all. I left, and it had come to an end. But for some reason, my heart couldn't let him go. I couldn't help but think there was something there, something that could be a long-term kind of thing.

Then there was the fact that I was in love with him. There was no rationalizing that, or getting around it. The feeling pulsed through my body, and the reminder came up at the most inopportune times.

I was in love with Boone Hart, and he had no idea.

25

BOONE

Since Kennedy had left, I'd buried myself in work. I wanted to finish the work at the brewery so I could move onto the furniture for the inn. I also wanted to increase my stock of chairs and picnic tables.

It meant that I was keeping a brutal schedule, working as many hours as I was physically able. I tended to fall into bed at the end of the night exhausted.

No matter how much I tried not to think about her, she inevitably crept into my thoughts. I'd remember the day she toured the shop, how we spent all our free time in my apartment.

Soon, my house would be built, and I could move into a home that held no memories of my time with Kennedy. I was both looking forward to that and sad that there would be a place where her scent and memory didn't linger.

But it was what I needed. She'd left without a backward glance, and I needed to move on. I was sure it was easier for her, traveling to a new place. Memories didn't assault her when she was trying to sleep.

It was eight at night before I stopped to stretch. In the evenings, I worked on making chairs. It was easy and repetitive work. I rarely needed to think about what I was doing. I could get lost in a zone, but that meant that I forgot to stop for meals more often than not.