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If there's one thing I can count on for certain, it's that Mariposa summers are a constant whiplash of scorching heat and raging storms. We'll all have to tread carefully as this project progresses, or else we might be looking at the end before we even start.
CHAPTER 4
NATALIE
I'm the first to arrive at the Langford, the early morning silence whispering peace to my mind. It's a new day—another fresh start—and absolutely nothing is going to get under my skin. The musty smell of old wood is sharp in my nose, but still carries that mystical air of nostalgia that all historic buildings seem to share.
Today, I'm tackling the Statuary; the most challenging part of the renovation. The room, once grand, now bears the scars of neglect. Cracks spiderweb across the walls, the damage hastily concealed under heavy layers of paint in a futile attempt to preserve its former glory.
The statues, those silent sentinels of history, have been carefully removed at my insistence. The risk of damage during the renovation is too high, and I can't bear the thought of erasing any more of the building's soul.
As I step through the doors, a sense of unease prickles at the back of my neck like a sixth sense. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the air; it's too cold, too humid, too contrary to the summer morning steaming just outside.
I whirl around the room, scouring the place for any sign of trouble. Almost immediately, the source of my discomfort becomes glaringly obvious. My equipment, meticulously organized just the day before, has been scattered around the room.
But even worse: the window is wide open, the clear sign of a culprit sometime during the night.
My heart sinks as I rush over, struggling for air like the wind has been knocked out of me. It's a surreal feeling, but the evidence is undeniable. Rain has soaked through the open window, drenching my tools and plans. Papers are smeared, the ink pooled in ominous clouds across the papers, while electronic equipment sits in puddles of water, their fate uncertain.
Frustration boils over, hot and unyielding. Who would do this? And why? It's a senseless act, one that not only threatens the integrity of the renovation but also disrespects the very essence of this historical treasure. Not to mention that my resolve to be unflappable has shattered before the day even started.
My hands fly at inhuman speed in a desperate attempt to salvage what I can. I'm so engrossed in the moment that I don't hear the footsteps echo in the room behind me. It's not until a thunderous voice slashes through my focus that I realize I'm no longer alone.
"What the hell?” It’s Julian's voice, sharp and angry.
I straighten, pushing a wet strand of hair from my face and willing myself to remain calm. "Someone came in through the window. All my plans are ruined. My equipment—” I stop short, breath hitching in my throat.
Julian tears across the room to the open window and leans out, as if the culprit would still be hiding there. After a moment, he pulls back and continues to survey the room. “What kind of bastard would do something like this?"
I can only shake my head, his words amplifying the raging emotions within myself. We both know the stakes of this renovation, the delicate balance between preserving the past and ushering in a new chapter for the Langford Art Building. And we both know how imperative this is to my career.
"We'll check the security cameras." Julian’s already moving into action, his frustration replaced by an authoritative confidence. "See if the idiot caught himself on tape." Then he adds, more to himself than to me, "Maybe someone left it open yesterday."
My head snaps up, disbelief and indignation racing through me at his implication. "Julian, we're all professionals here. My team knows the risks of leaving a window open, especially with the rain last night."
He meets my gaze, unflinching, a hint of challenge sparking in his dark eyes. "And what is it exactly you're accusing me of, Natalie?"
“I never accused you of anything, Julian,” I throw back. “Your crew, on the other hand?—"
“What about my crew?” Julian takes an alarmingly large step toward me.
I match his step with two of my own. “They sure seemed to be having a grand old time yesterday. How do I know one of your contractors wasn’t so distracted that they left the window open?”
Although he keeps a safe distance, I can feel the waves of heat rolling off Julian's chest. I glare right back up at him, all too aware of the way his shirt is pulled tight over his clenched muscles, and the loose strands of his hair are blown around by his angry breath.
This argument escalated too quickly, and the mutual accusations hang heavy in the air between us. But underneath the anger and frustration crackles an intensity that has nothing to do with the morning's incidents. I can feel my face turning red, not just at the situation, but at Julian's unwavering stance and the embarrassing electricity humming through my veins.
Julian, with his furrowed brows and determined jaw, is undeniably attractive, even more so in the heat of this argument. I'm overcome with the sudden urge to close the distance between us, and it's strong enough that my hand twitches at my side and my knees literally tremble.
But I can't afford to do something rash. Like kiss him. Or slap him. Though both are fairly appealing at the moment.
My focus wavers as I struggle to keep my thoughts from straying further down that path. "My team wouldn't jeopardize the project like this," I assure him, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Julian's posture softens slightly, but his conviction doesn't waver. "Neither would mine, Nat. You know me."
The tension between us begins to shift into something unpleasant that coils up in my stomach. Do I really know Julian anymore? It's been too far too long to know for certain.
Of course he's changed. Not just physically, but his whole life is different now. He's a dad for heaven's sake. Surely that alone is enough to shape him into someone else. Someone who's dependable, who’s not going to leave the people he loves behind.
