Page 10

CHAPTER NINE

Cash

The Roost was an octagon-shaped cabin built on top of a hill—amongst a thick cluster of trees—with steps set into the earth at two-foot intervals leading up to it. Wild grass and weeds had overtaken the path. Declan’s regular gardening around the main house clearly didn’t extend this far.

We picked our way to the door and Declan pulled out a keyring. “I keep it locked, but sometimes teens find their way in and trash it. This won’t be pretty.”

He was right. The empty beer bottles, broken glass, and trash didn’t concern me as much as the rotting floor boards under a boarded-over window. Judging by the bubbled paint on the windowsill and the discoloration of the wall, water had gotten in.

Not much of a loss, considering the walls were cheap paneling. We’d need to hang sheetrock and paint. Patch the floor and refinish it or lay carpet, if Declan wanted to take the easier route.

That was all cosmetic and easily dealt with.

I spun in a circle, taking in the angled walls that formed the octagon shape of the building. A large window set into each gave absolutely stunning views. Even though The Roost was farther inland than the main house and the Tree Hut, it was also on an incline and had a perfect view across Declan’s property to the lake.

“Wow, this place is just going to waste,” I said with a shake of my head. “Why haven’t you opened it up?”

“I’ll show you.” Declan led me to a wooden swinging door. We stepped through into an absolutely gutted kitchen. The floor was torn up. Only a rough frame for the cabinets remained. No sink. No countertops. No appliances.

“Remodel gone wrong?”

“Abandoned, more like,” Declan said. “My aunt had big plans for this building. She started the remodel, but she ran out of funds. When I inherited this place, it was in debt up to its neck. The landscaping was a mess, and the main house had its own issues. There were just so many other priorities…”

“But this is great, because now we can put in a bomb-ass kitchen!” I spun toward the wall separating it from the living area. “In fact, we could knock down this wall and open it up to be an open-floor plan. Really modernize this whole place.”

Declan’s eyes widened. “That’s, uh, a lot to take on. I just wanted to get it functional.”

“Why stop there, though? Your aunt wanted more for this place, didn’t she?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So, let’s do it, then. We’ll make it so gorgeous you’ll never want to leave.”

“Cash…”

Oops. That was not the goal.

“Just kidding! It’ll be so gorgeous that anyone would be thrilled to take over the B&B and preserve what you and your aunt have built here.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t built anything.”

“But you will be.” I met his eyes dead-on. “That’s what we’re doing here, right? We’re building—or at least remodeling—your aunt’s dream.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.” He sighed. “We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves, though. This isn’t the only project we’d have to tackle. There’s still the second-floor deck at the main house and the plumbing at the Tree Hut?—”

“And updating your ancient furniture,” I interjected.

Declan paused. “What? You don’t like the furniture?”

“Dec, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it looks like a Barbie Dream House mated with an antique store and had mismatched babies.”

Declan shuddered. “That imagery is…”

“Accurate?”

He winced. “Maybe a little.”

“This place is on the lake. I think a beach house vibe would be amazing and more appealing to the guests, don’t you?”

He pursed his lips. “Well, I was trying to adhere to Millie’s vision, but…” He cringed. “I have always hated the interior design.”

I laughed. “Why do you punish yourself like this?”

Declan gave me a considering look. “Old habit. Hard to break, I guess.”

There was something deep and pained in his eyes that made me swallow the tease poised on my tongue. “Well, I guess this is an opportunity in more than one way, then.”

Declan swallowed. “I guess it is. But that means it’ll be an even bigger job than I envisioned.”

“I’ll try to keep the budget as lean as I can. I’ll do the labor for free, but?—”

“Absolutely not,” he said sternly. “I’ll pay you for your work. The land holds more value than the buildings. I’ll recoup the expense and then some when I sell it.”

“I’m not doing this to make a payday,” I protested.

“I know,” Declan said. “And if it’s too much for you, I’ll understand. I could still take that investor’s offer.”

“No way,” I insisted. “Let them tear down this amazing place?”

His face tightened. “I don’t really want that.”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I said. “This looks like a lot, but it’s really just cosmetic. I can handle it, and I know a guy who can help, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Does all the electrical work?”

“Yeah, I have it inspected yearly,” he said. “I don’t want to risk it burning down or something.”

“Smart,” I said. “And the plumbing?”

He nodded. “As far as I know.”

“Perfect.” I crossed into the hall and peeked into each bedroom. They could use some sprucing up, but there were no major concerns. The bathroom, too, could use a revamp, but it wasn’t gutted like the kitchen. “We can do this, Declan. I’m sure of it.”

His tiny hint of a smile bloomed into the sexiest grin I’d ever seen. Declan Sullivan was a truly gorgeous man. His dark hair and eyes gave him an intensity that drew me in, but the smile transformed all that surliness into a roguish charm that was almost unrecognizable on him.

“Let’s go to my quarters.”

“Whoa, Declan, I’m not that kind of boy!”

He chuckled. “You absolutely are that kind of boy.”

I widened my eyes. “Did you just make a joke?” I pulled out my phone. “Time of joke, 10:43 a.m. Wednesday, July?—”

“Stop it.” His scowl returned, but there was no real ire behind it. “I want to show you Aunt Millie’s plans. Now that you’ve convinced me you can do this, there were some other ideas she had.”

“Oh, great!”

What had I gotten myself into now?

I escaped—er, left Declan’s home office—just before lunchtime. Once I’d convinced him I could handle renovating the B&B, he’d gotten a lot more excited about fulfilling Millie’s vision.

Oh, that Millie. She had quite the vision. Sunroom additions and a greenhouse and an attic conversion for additional booking space. It was no wonder Declan hadn’t tackled most of this. Other than the greenhouse, he’d only be inviting in more guests and it was pretty obvious he didn’t love the number he had now.

But I could see it. See everything the Treehouse B&B could be. It was something pretty incredible.

And I’d possibly bitten off a lot more than I could chew. But I’d figure it out, right? Probably while flailing around like a person in the dark—but with style—like I did everything else in my life.

Mom’s car was in the driveway, which meant she’d gotten off her early-morning shift. She worked for a commercial company that loaned their cleaners out for housekeeping jobs, as well as office buildings, hospitals, and other industrial needs. Mom was technically a subcontractor and could take the jobs she wanted.

Because she needed the money, she took whatever she could get. Which meant an unpredictable schedule. She’d posted this week’s work rotation on the refrigerator. I checked it and sighed. Yep. She was working another split, and would be going back to work at 6 this evening when the bank she’d be cleaning would be closed to the public.

Looked like I’d be spending my night off at home so Katelyn wouldn’t be on her own with Dad.

The television was playing in the living room, and I could tell he was awake because he was cussing at the NASCAR race he was watching.

I opened the refrigerator to grab something for lunch. “You want something to eat, Dad?” I called.

“What?”

“Do you want?—”

“Bring me a beer!”

I groaned inwardly just as Katelyn stepped into the doorway.

“There’s nothing to eat anyway,” she said.

I surveyed the contents of the fridge, and she wasn’t wrong. There was half a six-pack of beer, a few slices of cheese, and some sketchy-looking leftovers in the back that had been in the fridge too long already. I pulled out a container of cottage cheese and lifted the lid, jerking back with a cringe. Yep, that was expired.

“All right, I guess a shopping trip is in order. Where’s Mom? We can make a list.”

“She’s sleep?—”

“Where’s my fucking beer?” Dad bellowed, cutting through Katelyn’s soft words.

I was tempted to pour his precious beer right down the fucking drain. Katelyn grabbed a can from the fridge and took it to the living room.

“About time,” Dad grumbled.

I guess that’s what went for thanks in his world. I scowled.

Katelyn shook her head. “Don’t start anything. Mom’s trying to sleep.”

I closed the refrigerator and grabbed the keys off the hook by the door. “I don’t want to start anything,” I muttered. “I really want to finish it.”

Katelyn looked stressed enough that I relented. “You coming with me? You remember what foods everyone likes better than I do.”

She seized on the opportunity to escape. “Yeah, you’d be hopeless without me.” She detoured to the junk drawer under the microwave and pulled out a thick envelope. “Coupons Mom has clipped. Bet you would have shopped without them.”

“You’d win that bet.”

Dad bellowed at the television, making us both cringe. Mom shuffled into the kitchen bleary-eyed a minute later.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing at Katelyn as she sorted coupons. “Oh, shoot. I meant to hit the store before I got home.”

“No worries. We’ve got it covered. Right, Kit-Kat?”

My sister huffed. “Not a little kid, Cash. My name is Katelyn.”

“So formal,” I teased, tousling her hair just to annoy her. She squealed and danced away from me.

“Be quiet, will ya!” Dad called. “I’m watching TV.”

If my eyes rolled any harder, I’d probably have a brain aneurism. The man had woken Mom with his bellowing, but we needed to quiet down.

“Do you need money?” Mom asked. “I’ll get my purse.”

“Nah, I got it.”

She hesitated, but I didn’t miss the look of pure relief crossing her face. “Are you sure? I can pick up an extra weekend shift.”

“The resort gig is good and regular, Mom. What else am I going to spend my money on?”

She frowned. “Not this. You should be spending it on dates, or fun days out on the lake, or, or?—”

“I’m not dating right now, and Sawyer’s my hookup for fun on the lake. No money required. Besides, I just landed a second job unexpectedly, so…I’m good. Seriously.”

Her brow furrowed. “A second job?”

“Yeah, so maybe you could give yourself a day or two off.” I nodded my head toward Katelyn. “This job will be flexible. I’ll work it around our existing schedules.”

She smiled wanly. “You’re too good to me.”

“Nah. We’re a team, right?”

She blinked misty eyes and nodded. “We are. The whole family,” she said, shooting a smile to Katelyn. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

There was one team member conspicuously absent from the kitchen. One that Mom was careful not to mention. We’d argued over Dad enough times that I knew she wouldn’t change her mind.

He’d been the love of her life before he got hurt in a commercial boating job. He’d slipped on the deck while helping move cargo and ended up with a broken back and chronic pain.

He was a drag on this family and the reason my mother worked too many hours for a shitty company that paid her too little. Even with me contributing to expenses, we barely got by.

Dad won a worker compensation claim that covered most of his medical debt, along with a small amount of disability for the first year, but he refused the physical therapy required to continue receiving benefits.

He could get better, but he chose not to.

Mom thought it was her job to take care of him. I sure didn’t see it that way, but unless I let my mom and sister go down with him, I was just as stuck as they were.

Dredging up old arguments wouldn’t change that.

“Come on, Kit-Kat. Let’s go get some food.”

“Finally,” she said. “I’m starving.”

I paused in the doorway. “Anything special you want, Mom?”

She checked the refrigerator as I had done. “Better get your dad a case of beer. He won’t last the rest of the day.”

“Seriously?”

She turned toward me. “What? You know how he gets when he runs out.”

And we just kept enabling it…but when you were living with an alcoholic who didn’t want to change, what else could you do? It would get very ugly very fast if we tried to dry him out against his will.

We needed help. Outside intervention or a rehab stay for Dad, maybe. But with our limited resources, I wasn’t sure how to even begin that process. Or if it was even possible without Dad’s cooperation.

But I said none of that.

“I’ll get the beer. But what about you?” I pressed. “Don’t you want something?”

“Oh, honey, just get whatever you two want me to make for dinner this week. You know I’m not picky.”

That was the truth. If she were pickier, maybe she’d leave Dad’s ass and force him to face the truth.

His drinking was about avoiding reality rather than facing a life that didn’t turn out how he’d hoped. It was about dulling his pain instead of doing the hard work to actually recover from his injury.

Most of all, it was about the addiction that had its claws in him.

And if we weren’t careful, he’d eventually drag us all down, too.