“They were really smart. Scary smart like my parents, only these guys have made millions off their creations.”
“Yeah.” Compared to the men at the party, his contributions to society were insignificant. He hadn’t considered that when he had invited Claire to attend. He’d always been confident of his strengths and abilities. Maybe too confident.
“And it was exhausting having their whole attention,” Claire said.
His surprised bark of laughter echoed in the car. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone complain about that before.”
“It was nice but odd,” she admitted. “And it also didn’t mean anything. The people were interesting but they didn’t make an impact on me. I don’t care how rich and influential those guys were. I would rather have the undivided attention of someone who was special to me,” she said wistfully as she sank back into her seat.
He would, too. He wanted Claire’s laser focus on him. Have her make a flowchart and a strategy to snare him. Not that she needed one. All she had to do was give him a signal and he would crawl on his hands and knees to be with her.
“Those geniuses used technical words I didn’t understand. It was like a flashback to my childhood,” she said with a groan. “And when they started getting into detailed discussions about their creations, I just smiled and nodded my head.”
“You faked it well. I thought you were following along.”
“It’s a trick I learned years ago when I was stuck at the dinner table with my family. The less you talk, the more knowledgeable you appear.”
Jason frowned. Why would she have to fake it with her family? Did she feel as if she had to show interest in their work? “You don’t have to pretend to be someone else.”
“And miss my chance to be a lady of mystery?” she asked in a teasing tone.
“You play it every day.” He clenched his teeth. It was the wrong thing to say. It would put her on the defensive.
“No, I don’t. You know almost everything about me.”
He couldn’t let that slide. “I only know what you want me to know.”
Claire straightened her shoulders. “That almost sounded like a complaint. There’s nothing wrong with giving people the edited version. Consider it the highlight reel as opposed to the behind-the-scenes footage.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing the unedited version,” he murmured.
She fell into silence and looked out the passenger-side window. Jason stopped at the red light and automatically glanced at the overgrown field beside the road. It had become a habit for him to check the old horse barn and stable. It was shabby and the wood was decaying from years of neglect. It hadn’t been used for anything for as long as he could remember. But in his mind, it was a restaurant. His restaurant.
He looked away but jerked his gaze back when he noticed something new. The word Sold was splashed across a For Sale sign.
Sold. The disappointment hit him like a fist. Someone had taken ownership. Someone had taken his dream.
He didn’t realize he had sighed until Claire glanced at him. “Are you okay?”
Jason cleared his throat but it still felt tight and scratchy. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said hoarsely. “I saw that someone bought the stable. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Huh.” She leaned forward and peered out his window. “It’s been for sale for years. The For Sale sign had become part of the scenery. What do you think is going to be built there? Woodinville doesn’t need another horse farm.” She gave him a sharp look. “Maybe it’s going to be a tasting room?”
The light turned green, and Jason concentrated on the road ahead of him. For once he didn’t care about the threat of another tasting room in town. He had enjoyed dreaming and planning about what he could do with that barn and stable. Now the structure represented a dream unfulfilled.
“I used to think that place would make a good restaurant.” The words spilled from his mouth unheeded. Jason’s eyes widened and his hands tightened against the steering wheel. Why had he said anything?
“For Mountain Creek?” She looked over her shoulder at the old building. “The wine bar is really popular but expanding to a restaurant could be risky.”
He nodded. It was easier to let her believe that. But his daydream, the one he had entertained for years had slipped out of his hands. Because he hadn’t gone after it. It had been easier to dream about the potential than to work hard only to come up empty. “I was thinking for myself.