Page 7 of Hearts on the Line (The Maverick Key #1)
Maddie
An earthy aroma of rosemary, garlic, and onions sizzling in olive oil wafts from the pan.
Adjusting the flame until the crackling vegetables simmer, I wipe my hands on a striped dish towel and peer out the window at the gravel driveway.
No one’s out there. We’re expecting the rest of our guests tonight and I offered to prepare the main dish, one of Nathan’s favorites.
I’m a pretty good cook, but it’s been months since I’ve made a hot meal for myself. I hope I’m not rusty.
“Dinner smells delicious,” Ms. Connor says from the kitchen island. Expertly, she slices through a crusty loaf of bread, the knife thudding against the cutting board with each downward motion.
“Thanks. I just hope it’s edible.”
“Don’t be modest. You’ve been a blessing these past few days. I’m going to keep you.”
She directs me through another task—folding napkins.
Helping with the inn chores has been comforting, and I’ve quickly picked up on the routines of the place.
Between jobs, I’ve continued to go through Nathan’s things, but I put aside the coded words.
I’ll need to dig through my old journals to find keys to decipher his coded messages.
I cringe when I think of the multiple boxes of old junk I have in storage.
It’s going to take a small project to get through all of them.
Ouch. A sharp sting pulls me from my thoughts. “Dang it.” I put the bottom of my palm to my mouth, trying to soothe my hand.
“Careful, honey.”
I walk over to the sink and run cold water over the red welt.
Once the stream takes the edge off the pain, I return to the pan and stir the food.
The crunch of tires on gravel pulls my attention away from the stove.
Ding, snoozing near the front door, perks up and heads to the sounds.
Low, animated voices carry through the open windows, followed by the heavy thuds of car doors closing and footfalls.
“They’re here,” Ms. Connor announces, wiping her hands on her apron as she bustles toward the front entrance. “Keep an eye on that pan, dear. You don’t want it to burn.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. I wander over and stand by the kitchen entryway.
A group of men step onto the porch. They could all use a good shower, filthy after what appears to have been a long day’s work.
One man stands out with his athletic build and rust-blond hair ruffled just enough to appear effortlessly styled.
His rolled-up sleeves reveal muscular forearms and faint scars marking his skin—hints of a risk-taker’s life.
There’s tension in his shoulders, a subtle weariness.
Wes Harrington.
His name was tossed around all week, and I’d seen him from a short distance at the marina. But up close, his presence is magnetic, like an exotic animal at the center of a zoo exhibit. He’s used to turning heads.
Ms. Connor ushers the group inside. Wes’s voice rises above the others, smooth and confident. “Ms. Connor, it’s a pleasure finally meeting you in person.” Instead of shaking her hand, he kisses it.
“About time you showed up,” she replies, pulling her hand away and wagging a finger at him. “Dinner will be done soon. You’ve still got some time to clean up.” She eyes his wrinkled shirt.
“Sorry, I’m late. We promise to be presentable and on time for dinner.
” He pulls off the video camera which was hanging from a strap around his shoulder.
“We’ve been stuck out on the boat for a couple of days but got some great footage of the island’s surrounding waters.
” He shows Ms. Connor the screen. “Today, we filmed in Carter’s Drop.
” He turns the camera off and puts the strap back over his shoulder.
“We ran into Scott and his crew while we were there.”
She purses her lips. “You need to stop messing with Scott. Everyone’s talking. He’s been through enough and doesn’t need the drama.”
“Me? I was nice to him. Promise.” She narrows her eyes.
I get ready to slip back into the kitchen when his gaze shifts from Ms. Connor and locks onto mine. My breath catches. His intense green-gray eyes are arresting, bright with curiosity. They narrow and his brow lifts just a bit. Then his lips curve up.
“You must be Maddie Carter.” He steps forward and extends his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing, his touch soft, surprising me.
“And you’re Wes.” Heat rises to my cheeks. “A friend told me all about you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
“Mostly.”
Approval flashes across his face. “I like her already.” He looks over his shoulder at Ms. Connor. “Nathan always said his sister was a spitfire.”
The mention of my brother catches me off guard. “You knew him?”
His expression shifts, the charm giving way to sincerity.
“Yeah, we worked together while he was exploring The Great Blue Hole in Belize. Had some beers—played pool. Got into all kinds of trouble. Brilliant man. He was one of the good ones.” His voice softens.
“I’m sorry about what happened.” His eyes gleam with a hint of moisture.
He pauses, then continues. “He talked about you sometimes—how you put yourself through school.” His expression turns serious. “He shared all sorts of embarrassing photos.” I cringe.
“I heard about what happened to your mom and how you stepped up to care for her, putting your own life on hold. You’re the person who does anything for the people you love.” Leaning in a little closer, he lowers his voice. “That’s a trait I admire, Maddie. Deeply.”
He stares at me in silence.
My throat tightens. “That sounds like him. He loved me too much to be objective.”
We chat a few more minutes before his focus drifts. Then his expression darkens. “Are you in touch with his girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” I frown. “No, I didn’t know he was seeing anyone. Who is she?”
He shrugs. “Nathan mentioned her to me a few times. It seemed he was in deep the last time we talked in Belize. He never talked about his personal life, ever. But he told me he had someone in his life. Someone permanent. Sorry, I don’t know much else.”
Before I press further, Hannah appears in the doorway, her flame-colored hair catching the light. She’s wearing a sexy black silk dress. I glance down at my simple blue cotton one and wince.
She gasps and clutches at her neck. “Wes Harrington.” Wes looks her way, his gaze starting with her face and working down.
“Guilty as charged. And who are you, sugar?” he asks smoothly.
“Hannah Rodriguez.” She bites down on her bottom lip. This makes him catch his breath. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He shakes her hand.
“I’m a lucky guy, meeting two beautiful women in one night. I think I picked the right inn.” He turns to Hannah. “Are the rumors true that this is the best bed-and-breakfast in Maverick Key?”
“Rated the best B&B on this coast. Ten years in a row.” Hannah launches into her sales pitch. “Ms. Connor’s dinners are legendary, and you won’t find better amenities on the island. She’s a beast.”
“Is privacy a problem?”
“Well… you’d better be on your best behavior. She’ll set you straight if there are any crazy shenanigans in this place.”
“I wouldn’t dream of stepping out of line,” Wes says lightly and turns to me. “And what about you? Are you going to keep me in line, too?”
I laugh nervously, heat creeping to my neck. “I think Ms. Connor’s got that covered.”
“Hmm… maybe.”
Ms. Connor claps her hands from the kitchen. “All right, that’s enough of you for now. Go clean up before dinner. Your room is ready. It’s the second one on the right.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As Wes heads upstairs, he calls, “Raincheck on that next story. I’ll see both of you lovely ladies at dinner.”
As soon as he’s out of sight, Hannah whirls to face me, eyes wide. “Did that just happen? I can’t believe we just met Wes Harrington up close and personal. He’s even more gorgeous in person and smells good, too.”
I choke, then laugh. “He smells like he’s been out to sea a few days… Anyway, if that banter was any sign, I think he was just as interested in you as you were in him.”
“Please,” she shoots back. “He was looking at you hard. The guy’s a certifiable flirt.”
“Good luck with that,” I tease.
I head back to the kitchen to finish dinner.
The connection between Wes and Nathan has my head spinning. And then there’s Nathan’s secrets.
I’d intended to dive headfirst into the animal clinic’s renovation plans, but staying close to what’s happening with the Carter’s Drop project may need to be my priority until I figure all this out.
Candlelight bathes the dining room. A low murmur of voices blends with the soft piano melody drifting from a radio hidden in the corner.
The air is rich with the aroma of roasted chicken and garlic potatoes and the faint perfume of fresh flowers arranged as a centerpiece.
Tonight’s dinner is a welcome home for all our inn guests.
I kick myself for not inviting Scott and his crew to dine with us.