Chelsea stomped to the large bank of windows at the front of the house overlooking the serene, blue, icy waters of Lake Leelanau. The lake was barely visible now, though, hidden behind the veil of snowfall. The flurries that had followed her all the way from the tiny Traverse City airport to the Leelanau Peninsula had become heavy, fat flakes. She reached for the phone in her coat pocket to check the weather forecast but then swore as she remembered that she’d lost service somewhere outside Traverse City.
One more reason why she couldn’t wait to get back to Southern California.
If he ever bothered to show up.
Finally, the gun of an engine shifting into low gear outside brought her to the front door. She whipped it open just as a black truck roared up the steep incline and parked behind her rental car.
The man who emerged from behind the steering wheel was not what she’d expected. For starters, he was about forty years younger than anyone with the title of historic preservation director ought to be. He was also taller, leaner, and wider—more like one of the beefy locals who worked the docks over in Fishtown.
He wore a heavy, brown Carhartt coat and well-worn winter boots, but it was his easy smile that caught her attention as he strode up the snow-covered brick pathway to the front porch. But Chelsea wouldn’t be swayed by a dazzling smile. She worked in Hollywood, for God’s sake. Insincere grins were a dime a dozen.
“You’re late.”
Simon paused at the bottom of the porch steps. “I tried texting you.”
Chelsea grabbed her phone and held it up to show the screen. “Did it ever occur to you that I can’t get service out here?”
“Nope. Mine works just fine.” He stomped his boots on the ground to shake free the clumps of snow. “I suppose you missed the weather alert then too.”
“What weather alert?”
He gestured to the falling snow. “Big storm coming. We’re supposed to get more than a foot.”
“I thought that was supposed to hit south of here.”
He shrugged. “You know how Michigan weather is.”
“I do. So we’d better work fast, because I need to get this over with.”
She spun on her heel and went back into the house, leaving him at the bottom of the steps. His boots were muffled against the blanket of snow that already covered the stairs as he followed her inside.
He shut the door and faced her with that same smile. “How about we start over.” He extended his hand. “Simon Rye. I’m sorry I was late, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
She stared at his hand for a split second and then sighed as she accepted the handshake. “Chelsea Vanderboek.”
He squeezed her hand longer than was necessary. “I was sorry to hear about your aunt. She was an amazing woman.”
An unexpected swell of emotion filled her chest. Chelsea pulled her hand away.
Simon sat down on a bench by the front door and untied his boots. Then he toed them off before he stood.
“That’s really not necessary,” Chelsea said, unnerved in a strange way by the sight of the man’s stocking feet.
Simon lifted an eyebrow. “It absolutely is. I have snow and salt caked on those boots, and the floors in this house are century-old walnut. You should take yours off too. If we have a chance of salvaging them—”
Chelsea held up her hand to silence him. “I already told you that I have no intention of keeping it.”
“I know you told me that. I’m here to change your mind.”
“No. You’re here to sign off on the sale.”
“Sorry.” He ran a hand over his snow-covered hair, leaving it standing up in spiky layers. “I’m not going to agree to let you sell this landmark property to some greedy Detroit developer who will tear down the house and throw up some cheap condos in its place.”
“This is my property.”
“And this is my job.”
“Look, Mr. Rye—”
“Simon.”
“Mr. Rye, I can appreciate your passion for saving historical sites. But the house is mine to sell. What gives you the right to tell me I can’t do it?”
“I have no interest in stopping you from selling your family house.”
Surprise rendered her speechless for a change.
“What I’m interested in is convincing you to sell to someone who will maintain the property as is.”
“Impossible. I already have a buyer lined up.”
Simon shrugged. “Then I’m afraid we’re at an impasse.”
A scraping sound outside brought them both up short. It sounded like a sled on a hill. Simon sucked in a breath. “Please tell me you set the emergency brake when you got out of your car.”