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Carly had been shocked to discover that the owner of Brooks Farm and Nursery was only a few years older than she was. His passion for simple, organically grown produce had been clear from the minute she and Jackson had set foot on the farm, and Owen’s knowledge had gone a long way toward getting her proposal on solid ground. Solid enough that resort executives had told her to proceed with a detailed proposal after she’d pitched the basic idea.
Solid enough that if she played it just right, she might actually get the funding.
“Ah. Your boyfriend sure does do nice work.” Sloane peeked over Carly’s shoulder, sighing at the beautifully sketched details on the sheet in Carly’s hands. “These plans are gorgeous.”
“Jackson’s not my boyfriend,” Carly said, tipping her head at the plans. “But yes. The garden is beautiful.”
Sloane arched a brow and padded to the coffeepot, the rich aroma of just-brewed French roast teasing its way through the mid-morning sunshine.
“Please. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.” She leaned over to top off Carly’s coffee before tucking the carafe back on its perch on the burner. “Face it, doll. You have surpassed gimme some sugar territory. Jackson Carter rocks your socks.”
But Carly didn’t budge. “We’re friends. We have fantastic sex. We enjoy each other’s company. But that’s all that’s going on, Sloane.”
A memory from the night before flashed through her mind, and she tucked her naughty grin into her coffee cup. Okay, so ‘fantastic’ might be a pretty big euphemism. The man could blow her mind with his bad intentions.
And he had done just that for the last three weeks. Alot.
“Mmm. You’ve slept in the same bed with Jackson almost every night for the better part of a month, and he’s pretty involved in this project you’re up to your eyeballs in. Not to go all Devil’s Advocate on you, but are you sure mixing work with pleasure is a good idea?” Sloane pushed her choppy black bangs from her face to peer at Carly over the counter, but Carly shook her head.
“Have you looked at these plans? He’s incredible at what he does, and Luke’s contracting estimates for the labor are more than fair. Just because I’m sleeping with Jackson and we spend a lot of time together doesn’t mean things are going to get complicated.” Carly gathered the pages in front of her into a neat pile, tapping the edges on the breakfast bar with a sharp rap. The last thing she needed was to mess things up by getting serious.
Sloane nodded, her expression turning wary. “Hey, speaking of complicated, how are things going with yourmama?”
Carly clenched her jaw, the muscles by her ear tightening to a twitch. “She called me yesterday and left a message on my cell while I was at work. It seems Travis is getting desperate.” Ugh, talk about something she’d rather not deal with at nine-thirty on a Friday morning. Or, okay, ever.
“Aww, is he cranky that the judge denied his request for counseling?” Sarcasm dripped from Sloane’s words, her Brooklyn accent hardening around the already rough edges.
“I don’t speak with him directly anymore, but my guess would be yes. My lawyer’s handling all of it, including Travis’s temper tantrums and power plays. I’m just trying to get on with my life.” In truth, between work, the garden proposal, and spending time with Jackson, she’d barely had time to think about Travis. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a two-way street. At this rate, she’d never be rid of him.
“So, what’s with yourmamacalling, then?”
Carly blew out a sigh. “My mother just happened to run into him at the Our Lady of Mercy church social a couple of days ago.”
Sloane made an unladylike noise without apology. “Are you kidding me? Travis is Satan’s hand puppet. What was he doing at church?”
“Gracie’s did the catering, which may or may not have been coincidental.” The hairs on the back of Carly’s neck prickled. She hated being so cynical, but she wouldn’t put it past Travis to have orchestrated the whole thing. He had to be getting desperate. “At any rate, my brother was there and he said Travis laid it on pretty thick with mymamabefore he intervened.”
Sloane grinned and toasted Carly with her coffee mug. “I’d have paid to see Dominic tell Travis off. Good for him.”
Carly shrugged. At one point, she might’ve cared about seeing Travis get his comeuppance, but right about now, that would take energy she just couldn’t spare. “At least the judge said we can move forward with the divorce. Although the whole my-stuff, his-stuff thing is proving to be every bit of the pain in the ass we thought it would be.”
Sloane propped her elbows on the counter and dropped her chin to her hands, thoughtful. “You know, I’d have thought Travis would’ve dropped theCouples in the Kitchenthing by now. No offense, but it’s not like you guys had a prime time spot on the Food Network or anything. Why does he still want you to sign on to do more videos so badly, especially when you already told Winslow no way?”
Carly rubbed a hand over her sternum, pushing her coffee mug aside. Talking about Travis was like instant heartburn. Or maybe that was heartache. At any rate, she’d had enough.
“Who knows why Travis does anything? He’s probably just trying to unnerve me. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to work.”
Much. God, she just wanted the whole thing over with.
But Sloane didn’t relent. “Still. Something about it doesn’t pass the smell test. Do you think maybe—”
The buzz of Carly’s cell phone interrupted Sloane and painted Carly with a fresh coat of dread. The caller ID confirmed her suspicions, but she knew from experience that putting off conversations with her mother only made things worse in the end.
“Hey,Mama.” She cradled the phone to her ear, smiling softly at Sloane’s sympathetic glance. Sloane waggled her fingers before heading down the hall to her room, giving Carly the space she was bound to need to get through the call.
“Six messages. I had to leave six messages before you picked up the phone.”
Carly took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ve been really busy with work, Ma.”
