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I set down my taco and wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin. “Tell me.”
“We’d have an entire house to work with. They want to see what you and I can do together on a very limited budget. If they like what they see, we get to move on to the bigger, better project. The one where we make real money.” She shoots me her trademark confident grin. The one that takes over her whole face and doesn’t leave any room for doubt.
But she’s throwing a lot of details at me and still leaving some out. I zero in on the most important one. “So they’re willing to provide a house and a budget for a project they’re not even sure they want to do? Why?”
Her grin widens. “Not quite. HGTV is providing the budget. I’m providing the crew and the house. That’s how I talked them into taking a chance on the project.”
“The crew?”
“My friends from home, Adam and Zach Thomsen.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively. “You’ll love them. And not just because they’re hotter than a Hemsworth in a sauna.”
I roll my eyes. But she did just sweeten the deal even more. “And where is this house?”
“Right outside of Florence!” Georgia’s smile falters, but her enthusiasm distracts me from wondering why. She knows living in Italy has always been my dream, and Florence? My skin tingles with anticipation.
“You bought a house outside Florence?” If I have to leave New York to do this project, Florence is my number one choice for other places I’d live.
“Nooo,” she says slowly. “I inherited it. You know this.”
“No, I don’t know this! How would I know this? Of course, I’ll take the job! When do I start?” Images of gelato fill my head. “How far outside Florence is it? Close enough to bike in? We’re going to the Uffizi first thing, right? I’ll finally get—”
“No, Florence” Georgia bites her lip. Her gaze dips to the table.
And I realize she’d said her crew was from “home.”
I’ve been Manhattaned.
“Not Florence, Italy,” she says slowly. “Florence…”
“Idaho,” I finish for her.
Chapter 2
Adam
A few years in New York were all it took to convince me I should have never left Paradise. I never would have if I hadn’t followed Dakota there. Too many strangers, too much noise, too few mountains. I’ll never regret training at the Culinary Institute of America, and I loved being able to get food from any part of the world any time of the day. But that wasn’t enough to anchor me. The feeling of being unmoored never went away.
When Mom got sick, I knew it was time to come back home. Dakota seemed willing to follow me, the way I’d followed her. At least at first. But those same few years in New York were enough to convince Dakota she should leave me, and Paradise, for good.
I just wish she’d told me what she was feeling before our wedding day. Maybe we could have worked things out.
Instead, she talked to Zach, my traitor twin brother. Her pre-wedding chat with him convinced her she should leave meat the altaron our wedding day. I know her terrible timing isn’t his fault but putting the idea to leave in her head is.
So when Zach walks into our family general store where I’m currently manning the checkout counter, I don’t return his smile. He knows I won’t. We’ve seen each other almost every day for the past four months since Dakota left, and never—not once—have I returned his too-cheerful, too-let’s-move-on,greeting.
“Hey, bro. How’s it going?” Zach pretends there’s nothing wrong between us because, according to him, there isn’t. He says he did me a favor by telling Dakota it was okay to leave.
I disagree. Vehemently. With all the anger of a spurned Greek god.
“Fine. You know where to find whatever it is you need.” I go back to reading my paperback. Science fiction today. Mostly because I forgot my Kindle. That’s where I keep the romances I’ve taken up reading in a desperate attempt to figure out what women want and how to give it to them.
“Actually, it’s you I need.” He leans across the high counter and rests on his elbows.
I finish the page I’m on and close my book. In order to keep the peace in our family, I’m cordial to Zach. We shared our mother’s womb for nine months and the same room for eighteen years after that. As small as Paradise is, it’s bigger than a womb or a bedroom. There’s no reason we can’t both live in this town.
“I’m listening.” My answer is already no.
“Georgia called me…” He pauses, knowing he’s got my attention. Georgia was always more my friend than his until she joined him in telling Dakota we weren’t right for each other. I’ve been ignoring her, too, since the Wedding That Didn’t Happen. The one where basically everyone in all of Paradise Valley, not just our town, witnessed my humiliation.
