The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,31

he got home from the Army, but he was different. She said the light in his eyes was gone.”

The room grows quiet, and then the woman who made the comment about the romance novel says cheerfully, “Maybe Dakota can turn the light back on.”

I smile and laugh at her suggestion, and the chatter resumes. It moves away from me and Wes, thank God, and on to some other poor soul.

I use the break to follow Ashley into the kitchen where she’s removing plastic wrap from a plate of cookies.

“Thank you for having me tonight. I’m going to take off. I have a lot of work to do ahead of my meeting with the Haydens in the morning.”

She lifts the tray and turns to me. “I hope you got what you came for.”

I nod vigorously. There are so many ideas bouncing around in my head right now, it’s hard to think straight. “I did.”

Ashley dips her chin at the tray she’s holding. “Take a cookie. Marjorie makes them herself.”

I remove a toffee cookie and take a bite. “Oh my God,” I mumble, brushing crumbs from my lips. “Those are incredible.”

“Yep,” she agrees, leading the way back into the living room. “And they’re about to disappear. Marjorie has been trying to think of a way to sell them and make some money, but she hasn’t figured it out yet. Right, Marjorie?” Ashley looks at the woman on the other side of Stacia as she slides the platter onto the coffee table.

“That’s right. For now, it’s the book club who gets the fruits of my labor.”

“Well, thank you, Marjorie, for the delicious cookie.” I hold up the toffee cookie in my hand. “And thank you, everyone, for having me tonight. Thanks to all your suggestions, I have a lot of work to do now.” I wave at them all and let myself out. Once I’m in my car, I gobble the cookie like I didn’t just eat dinner a couple hours ago. It’s that damn good.

When I get back to the hotel, I grab myself a glass of wine from the restaurant bar, go upstairs, and hunker down for a long night of work. By the time I go to bed at one a.m., I’m armed with a solid plan to present to Beau and Wes in the morning.

11

Dakota

“Beau. Wes.” I nod my head in turn at each man. “Good morning.”

Beau says hello and shakes my dad’s offered hand. Wes does the same, but even as I turn my back to him and walk to the burnt red leather couch in the living room, I can feel his gaze searing me.

Dad and I walked into the house expecting to be taken back to Beau’s office. Instead, Beau asked us to join them for coffee in the living room.

It’s the room I stared at the first and only other time I’ve been in this house, just a few days ago when Wes’s little sister Jessie answered the door. The double-sided floor to ceiling stone fireplace is remarkable. On the mantle sits a coat of arms, with a man on a horse reared on its hind legs, and the words Legacy, Loyalty, Honor emblazoned on the bottom center.

I can’t help but think of Wes and what this means to him, how legacy, loyalty, and honor have been ground into him since the day he was born. It seems a heavy load to carry, even for the strongest of arms.

I take a seat beside my dad on the couch opposite Beau and Wes. Seeing them together, separated only by a mere twelve inches, is like looking into the future. This is what Wes will look like in thirty-odd years.

“Dakota,” Beau says, leaning forward to grab his coffee cup off the table between us. “What have you got for us?”

I reach for my bag and remove the plans I worked so hard on last night.

I prop the artist’s notebook on my thighs and open it to where I made my rudimentary drawings. “I’m no artist, as you can see.” I grin at Beau, and try damn hard not to look at Wes. “But these are a few ideas I came up with after visiting with some ladies in town last night.”

“Tourism would benefit this town, and here’s how I’m thinking we could create a place people in Sierra Grande would use, and create a tourist attraction at the same time. This,” I point at the first drawing, “is the main attraction. An upscale version of the Bar