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Well. So much for that.
“I don’t… how do you… What?” Jesus. I can’t form a proper sentence around this woman unless it’s hostile.
“Matt told me everything. There isn’t much I don’t know about you, Hawk,” she says as she takes a sip of tea.
“Yeah, no kidding,” I answer as I sit at the small bar. “Listen, can we just go over these plans so I can get out of here? I don’t want to keep you up and I’d like to sleep at some point tonight too.”
Parrish crosses over to me, and sits down on the bar stool next to me. When her arm brushes against mine, I feel a full shiver spread through my entire body, and I have to consciously fight to keep from showing it. I spread out the first of the blue prints on the bar so she can see the exterior design.
“So, I’m using the Royal Stables at Versailles as my base of inspiration, then adding the latest in technology upgrades for all of the interior design. I think the natural wood and lighting will suit the concept and fit in well with the general design aesthetic of the rest of the ranch.”
Parrish snort laughs, and covers her face with her hand. I instinctively feel rage course through me. “What? What’s so frigging funny?”
“Have you shown these to your father, Hawk?”
I sit back, my defenses up. “No. Why?”
“He’s going to tell you they’re perfect, because I don’t think he’d tell you were doing anything wrong if you were taking a steaming crap on his dining room table. But this is insane. You want to take a royal French aesthetic and use it on Sam McCormick’s ranch? I mean, seriously? Chandeliers? I think you’ve been in Los Angeles too long, man, because you are totally out of touch with Montana.”
I feel my eyebrow furrow as I watch her survey the plans. “Oh? So what do you suggest? Some wood and hay and a thatch roof and call it a day?”
“Don’t be a defensive asshole, Hawk. I’m just saying, you’re not thinking about what your father wants. You’re thinking about what you want. And probably, what will get you on the cover of Fancy Ass Architect Monthly magazine. This isn’t California. And your father isn’t the King of Versailles. Maybe you should take a day and reacquaint yourself with what it means to be a McCormick. Not what it means to be Mister Big Shot Hollywood Architect. Remember what it was like to grow up here. Talk to your dad. At the end of the day, you can whatever you want, and the only say I have is when it comes to money. And don’t think I won’t put my foot down if you try to buy those chandeliers. But trust me when I say, that this,” she gestures at the plans, “is not what your father really wants.”
And with that, she stands up from the bar stool, picks up her tea, walks into the bedroom, shuts the door, and leaves me sitting at the bar.
I look down at the plans, and as much as it pains me to admit it, she’s totally right. I’m seeing everything I’ve designed through fresh eyes, and it’s ridiculous. It’s something you’d see on a ranch in NorCal, not my father’s old school horse farm in Montana. Hand-blown glass chandeliers? Wrought-iron stable gates imported from France? What the hell was I thinking?
I gather up the blueprints and run for the office, where I can spread out my materials and literally get back to the drawing board.
So much for sleeping. It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter 9
Parrish
“McCormick Ranch, can you please hold?”
The phone has been ringing off the hook all morning, and I don’t know why. Apparently, Sam isn’t answering his cell, and no one has seen Hawk since last night. Candy disappeared into town for some Charity League meeting, and Anna had to go into Helena for a supply run. It’s Gracie’s off-day, where she doesn’t go to school, so she is playing on the office floor with her blocks, as I try to clean up the mess Hawk left after apparently commandeering my office in the middle of the night. When I walked through the door with Gracie at 6:30am, my desk had been completely stripped clean, and all my stuff on the floor. There were empty cups of coffee everywhere, and the lights were still on, but Hawk was nowhere to be found.
I forgot what a slob he was.
Gracie immediately picked up the pens and started drawing on the floor, so I had to scramble to clean everything before she could go crazy re-decorating the walls with her own unique brand of art work. Then I tried to look for some sign of what Hawk had been doing all night, but all that’s left are the scattered remnants of his mess. So, rather than dwell on it, I just answer the phones, and field all of the queries that are coming in about the farm merger. By ten, I am exhausted, and it’s almost time for Gracie’s nap, so I gather her up and start to make my way out of the office and toward the carriage house, where I will work while Gracie sleeps. But as soon as I open the door, I run straight into Hawk, who is standing on the porch. I want to slap his gorgeous face.
“Hey! I was just coming to talk to you,” he says with a smile. I roll my eyes, out of habit more than desire.
“Yeah, well, I spent the morning cleaning up after you, and answering phones, and now I have to put Gracie down for her nap. So, it will have to wait.”
I intend to stomp off toward home, but Gracie reaches out toward Hawk, her chubby hands grasping out for him. Her grin is huge, and she grabs his collar, propelling herself into his arms. He looks like a deer in the headlights as he holds her, but she seems thrilled. I’m equal parts annoyed that my daughter is a traitor, and amused as his discomfort.
“Okay, well, apparently you’re coming with us
. Walk.” Hawk points to the ground.
“Can you grab those tubes and my briefcase? I can’t carry everything.”
I grumble as I pick up all his crap, and we make our way toward home. Gracie is babbling in a combination of the fifteen words she says properly and the hundred she gets in the general vicinity of, and Hawk is watching her in rapt fascination. When we get to the door, he looks at me, his eyes wide, and whispers, “Parrish, she looks so much like Matt at this age.”
“You’re two years older than he was,” I say with a sad laugh. “How do you remember him at two?”
