Beautiful Mine (Beautiful Rivers #1) (10 page)

Eleven Months Later

Whitney

It’s always interesting, thinking back on my time on the Camino. In my mind there are two parts. Part one was walking to Santiago. That’s the part that gave me the time I needed to realize there’s more to me and my life than just work, even with the kind of work I do. It was the clarity I’d been hoping for. I’d been neglecting too many sides of myself before Spain, and became determined to remember to live a better balanced life after Spain.

Part two, of course, was Connor. He helped me bring those abstract ideas about life into sharp focus. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as alive as I did during those few days with him. He made my desire for that more vivid, and, yes, he made me realize I really did want a relationship in my life.

I have both cursed the fact that our time together was so short, and been grateful for it. If we’d been together much longer, I may have just fallen in love with old Navy Shirt, and then where would I be?

I still think about him. Still wonder about him. Still imagine him coming to a fork in the road and getting that glint in his eye. I love that about him, even though that’s the very thing that makes him out of my reach.

Since the Camino, I’ve had mixed success with my new goals. It’s funny how even something as monumental as walking the Camino can fade in our memories with time. I still work too much sometimes, get worn out, and have to reel myself back in and start over. But I’m better about making time for myself, time for my friends, and time for dating.

Well, sort of dating. More like going on one or two dates with somebody and just leaving it at that. I’m not trying to be overly picky or anything, but some of the yahoos out there. Honestly.

I’d just... like a guy like Connor. Except for the can’t-stay-in-one-place-long-enough-to-commit-to-anyone part. Except that.

But I’ve yet to find anyone who even comes close.

Maybe that’s why, in spite of myself, I’ve found myself looking around for him each time I’ve come to Swan Pointe. I’ve been here twice in the last two months, both for work-related reasons.

Last time I was here, it was to place a brother and sister from Myanmar with their new family. While I was here, I visited Nadim and his adoptive parents. I bonded even more with Nadim and Abigail, his mother, who’s so great to talk to that I told her it’s a shame she can’t adopt
me.

Nadim was excited about the Junior League baseball season that was just starting. His team almost won the championship last year and I promised him if his team made it to the finals again this year, I’d come watch him play. With that big grin of his, he told me he’d be sure to make it happen.

True to his word, he did. The game’s tomorrow morning.

True to my word, I’m here. I’m using a vacation day to make a long weekend of it. I flew in last night, Thursday, so I could have Friday here, too. I had dinner with Nadim and his family last night, and today Abigail and I are having lunch, just the two of us, which I’m really looking forward to. Tomorrow is the game, and Sunday morning I’ll visit the brother and sister to see how they’re doing. I fly out Sunday afternoon.

The last time I came, I stayed at the Everland Hotel, one of many in Swan Pointe. I have no idea if it’s the one Connor’s family owns, but it didn’t matter. Every time I entered the lobby, every time I got in the elevator, I half expected him to just magically appear. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, and I was creating disappointment in myself I didn’t need to feel, but I couldn’t seem to stop those thoughts anyway. Besides, I kept reminding myself, even if I did see him, what then?

This time I’m staying in one of several little bungalows right along the beach. It’s a charming clapboard cottage in light blue with white trim. It’s older and in need of some maintenance and updating, but it has the advantage of being right next to the water—and not a Swan Pointe hotel that’s going to drive me nuts every time I step into the lobby or the elevator.

I’m meeting Abigail at The Wadsworth Room, a restaurant inside the Rivers Paradise Resort that Abigail promises has the best fish tacos in California. The resort is situated on a high bluff overlooking the bay, and the bungalows are down on the beach below it. I consider walking around and up the hill as it’s not that far, and I could use the exercise, which I don’t get enough of. But I don’t feel like making the climb and end up taking my rental car up to the resort anyway.

I’ve always been curious about the famous Rivers Paradise Resort. I’d wanted to come check it out the last time I was here, but it was a short trip that was taken up almost entirely by business and I just didn’t get the opportunity.

As I drive up the hill and the resort comes into view, I have a feeling it’s going to live up to its reputation. It’s a superb example of California architecture, with beautiful brick and iron work on its grand central building, which looks about ten stories high or so. Flanking either side of the main building, there are two shorter wings that are maybe six or seven stories high and stretch back at forty-five degree angles. The circular drive sweeps under a gorgeous stone portico, and curves around a crystalline pond that’s adorned with flowers and home to the resort’s famous pair of swans. The massive grounds are impeccably landscaped. Beyond that is a sweeping view of the ocean.

Forgoing the valet service, I opt for self-parking and make my way to the building and its grand entrance. As I approach the bay of glass and wood doors, a doorman in a smart navy jacket opens the door for me. I smile at him and nod my thanks, grateful I thought to dress up a bit.

I’m in a slender, sleeveless black dress with a form-fitting bodice and a skirt that flares gently at my thighs and stops just above my knees. A soft poppy-colored, see-through shrug gives it a pop of color, which is echoed in my strappy heels. I took the time to style my hair with large, soft curls and put on just a touch of makeup. I don’t own any expensive jewelry—I’ve never really wanted any—but am wearing a short necklace and delicate bracelet that tie the whole outfit together.

Being in a place of such graceful luxury only seems to be amplifying how I feel in these clothes. I feel like a queen. There are plenty of guests in casual shorts and shirts, and a few in swimsuits and cover-ups who are most likely on their way to the beach. But others are dressed up like me.

The lobby floor is all marble and features a gorgeous, intricate tile medallion in the middle, which is perfectly centered beneath the slightly domed ceiling two stories above me. The ceiling is trimmed with ornately carved wood support pieces and is breathtaking.

Everywhere I look, I see the kind of attention to detail that lends to the luxurious feel of the place: beautiful sconce work, original art in massive gilded frames, intricately carved side tables with expensive-looking porcelain vases overflowing with fresh flowers.

The front desk is made of walnut and adorned with a few sculpted lamps that give a gentle ambiance. Ditto the concierge desk and bell hop stand. On the other side of the registration desk, the lobby lets out to a large, carpeted area dotted with exquisite seating areas and a gleaming black grand piano. God, forget the beach. I could just hang out here all day.

Passing through the lobby, I come to a broad interior hallway—adorned with paintings and stone statues in little nooks—that goes to the right and left. There’s a long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that give a wide view of the beautiful rear grounds, where I see one of the resort’s extravagant pools and an outdoor dining area.

A simple but elegant-looking sign indicates which way to go for the fitness center, spa, conference rooms, and various restaurants, among other things.

I turn to the right, wondering if I was supposed to meet Abigail in the resort’s lobby or at the restaurant itself. In a few moments, I have my answer. The wide, open entrance to The Wadsworth Room is directly ahead of me and Abigail is waiting out front. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and cream shell top, holding her purse in front of her, and breaks out into a smile when she sees me.

“Have you been waiting long?” I ask as I give her a hug.

“No, I just got here a couple minutes ago,” she says, leading us to the hostess stand, where a finely-dressed young woman waits for us with a friendly smile. “I was—” Abigail starts to say, but something interrupts us.

“Whitney?” It’s coming from some distance behind me, but I heard the strong call of my voice clear enough to know exactly who it is the second I hear it. My heart leaps into my throat.

“Connor?” I say, spinning and scanning the broad hall behind me.

I knew his voice, but I almost didn’t recognize
him
. He’s in a silk button-down shirt—the first button undone—and a fine suit coat, and the scruffy beard is nowhere to be seen. But I know those intense blue eyes and my jaw drops in surprise as he hurries toward me. The blood is sprinting through my veins.

“Oh my god,” I say, putting my hand on Abigail’s arm to indicate she should wait for me, and heading in his direction. His eyes scan me quickly, taking me in, his face a mix of shock and happiness. Same as I’m feeling.

The closer I get to him, the more I can’t believe it. He’s here. Oh my god, Connor is right here in front of me.

“How—?” he says, smiling and holding his arms out. I practically skip the last few steps to him and then I’m in Connor’s arms and he’s lifting me just slightly off my feet and something deep inside me is sighing and laughing and dancing.

“Holy shit,” I say and he laughs in my ear.

Oh my god, it feels so amazing to be in his arms again. God, I can hardly think.

He sets me down and I step back and look up at him, both of us grinning. “Are you staying here?” he asks as Abigail comes up, curious.

“No,” I say, gesturing to her. “We’re here for lunch.”

“Ah,” he says, glancing at the restaurant behind us.

“This is Abigail,” I say. “Nadim’s mom.”

“Oh right,” he says, taking her hand and shaking it.

“And this is Connor.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “I brought Whitney for the fish tacos.”

“Ah, yes. Excellent call. If you’re going with seafood, you may want to try the mango shrimp, as well. The chef just added it to the summer menu and it’s fantastic.” He glances down the hall toward the lobby and I follow his gaze, but my overloaded brain feels like it’s trying to work something out.

Coming down the hallway in the opposite side of the lobby, are two people I recognize as Connor’s brother and sister. The brother, Rayce, is also in a suit, like Connor. His sister Lizzy is in a smart red blazer and skirt.

Wait a minute.

“Hang on,” Connor says, holding up a finger to me and taking a step in their direction. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Uh,” I say as he hurries away.
Uhhhh....
I think, rather coherently.

“I didn’t know you knew Connor Rivers,” Abigail says as we watch Connor go up to his siblings and say something.

“Holy shit,” I say, which I totally did not mean to say out loud in front of her, because she’s not a woman who’s fond of swearing, but
holy shit.

Rivers? As in the
Rivers
Paradise Resort?

I bite my lip to keep from saying
holy shit
again.

Connor starts heading back and his siblings linger, apparently waiting for him. His sister is watching us curiously, but his brother... well, frankly, his brother is checking his watch, looking pretty irritated.

Connor comes back up to us and I gawk at him. “Some hotel!”

He laughs and shrugs. “Sorry. Here.” He pulls his phone out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to me.
Damn, look at you looking all professional,
I want to say. “Put your number in for me. I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss but I’ll call you when I get out.”

I put my number in with slightly shaking fingers. I still can’t believe he’s here. And I can’t believe
this is the freaking hotel.
Geez!

I give him back his phone and we take each other in. My heart’s fluttering like mad.

“It’s good to see you, Whitney,” he finally says, putting his hand briefly on my arm. God, that only makes things worse.
Okay, deep breath.

“You too.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he says to Abigail and then just like that, he leaves to rejoin his siblings and is gone.

I exhale deeply, staring at the space he just vacated. Holy hell.

“How do you know Connor Rivers?” she asks.

“Um,” I say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and willing my heart to settle down. “We met on the Camino del Santiago last year.”

“Oh wow,” she says, as we turn back toward the restaurant. “Small world.”

“Uh huh,” I say as the hostess leads into a space that’s the perfect blend of elegance and casual, with brick accents and colorful blown glass light fixtures. What’s he doing here? Is he back? Did the wild little wanderer decide to finally settle down? Because if he did...

“They’re such a nice family,” she says as we take our seats at a small table along the back wall. The hostess gives us our menus and departs.

“Do you know them too?”