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CHAPTER TWO

Declan

“This is just beautiful country around here,” Mai, a petite Vietnamese woman with a hulking—but blissfully quiet—husband, looked at me with bright eyes. “I can’t wait to get out on the lake.”

“Mm,” I said, raising my cup to sip my coffee. Small talk wasn’t my forte. I wasn’t so good at regular talk, either. I forced myself to add a few words when she waited expectantly. “You have fun plans?”

That set her off on a spiel about boat tours and tubing and her poor pale husband, Jake, who needed to apply sunblock every hour to avoid frying to a crisp.

Mai wore a Weekend Hookers ballcap and a tank top that read, I like it in the boat . She’d clearly made a trip to Decked Out, a store full of kitschy lake apparel that she’d found hilarious. Jake was more circumspect in a simple blue tee and board shorts.

They’d booked the treehouse suite for the week, and by the sounds of things—oh so many sounds as she chattered—Mai was having a blast.

An older couple, Agnes and Roger, chimed in with their quieter plans to do some shopping in town. The main house was fully booked, but the Myers had headed into town for breakfast and the Jensens had gone out early to go fishing, which left only my couple out in the Tree Hut. They were late sleepers, so I didn’t expect to see them for a while.

Mai’s enthusiasm for the day ahead carried the conversation through breakfast, and I stood to clear the plates away. I’d made a spinach quiche, bacon, and toast since it was a weekend. Quiche seemed fancy but was easy to make, thankfully, because I was no Paula Deen.

I tried to avoid eating with the guests when I could—as it just highlighted my anti-social nature—but Mai was too determined to get to know me. It would have been too rude to refuse, even for me.

“What about you, Declan?” Roger asked as I stood. “You puttering around the garden again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

My roses could do with some pruning, and the battle against weeds was ongoing.

“Agnes and I might cross over to Swallow Beach after we’re done here. Wanna come along and play tour guide?”

I loudly stacked plates. “Not really.”

There was a stretch of awkward silence.

“It’s, uh, not really my strong point,” I added with a strained smile. Judging by the looks around the table, I hadn’t pulled it off.

“All right,” Roger grumbled. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

Agnes rescued me. Her hair was a short white bob with a purple streak through the bangs to indicate she was still hip . Her cat’s-eye purple glasses coordinated nicely.

“I’m sure he gets offers all the time to tour the area, honey. He lives here and meets new people every day.” She sighed wistfully. “What a lovely life. I’d love to run a B&B.”

Everyone looked at me again. I cleared my throat and prepared to say something appropriately cheerful.

My phone rang.

Thank you, whoever you are.

I reached into my pocket to pull out my cell. “Sorry, all, I’ve got to take this booking. Please leave your dishes. I’ll finish cleaning up.”

“Thank you, Declan.”

“Have a good day, Declan!”

“The quiche was delicious.”

Chairs scraped back, silverware clattered against china, and feet shuffled. Jake, the quiet husband, patted my shoulder as he passed. Perhaps sympathizing with my inability to hold a simple conversation?

Then they were gone, and it was quiet again.

I answered the phone. “Nathan, you picked the perfect time to call.”

“Every time I call is perfect,” he said with a chuckle.

Nathan was the type of guy who had confidence for days, yet somehow it never came across as cocky. We’d worked together in the banking industry. I was a financial analyst, spending my days with data as my closest companion, while Nathan managed investment portfolios.

He’d left shortly after I did to go into hedge fund management. He loved playing the odds, taking risks for great reward—and sometimes great disappointments. I couldn’t live so dangerously, but Nathan got a shot of adrenaline out of it.

“What did you need?” I asked.

Nathan and I were colleagues—he’d tried to take me rock-climbing exactly one time before he learned I was a better workplace acquaintance than actual friend— but he stopped in with coffee and dragged me away from my numbers to pick my brain about financial trends whenever he could.

“You see what’s going on with Heske Tech?” he asked.

“Don’t take that bait,” I said. “It’s artificially inflated now, but given the trends, it won’t last.”

“Aha! I knew you’d never abandon us completely, man. You should come back.”

“What?” I startled. “No, I just…”

“Analyze financial data for shits and giggles?” he said with a snort.

“I wouldn’t say analyze. I peruse. In fact, don’t take my advice on Heske. I haven’t done any deep dives into the data.”

“I’d take your casual perusal over some other guy’s in-depth study. Your talents are wasted out there.”

“Maybe, but I can’t run the B&B from Chicago, so…”

“I guess,” he grumbled. “I could really use you. The analyst they’ve got here is cramping my style.”

“Impossible,” I said.

He chuckled. “So, you really like it out there?”

“Well…” I hedged. “It’s different. Things are slower here. More relaxed. I have all the time I want to read and garden.”

“Sounds like a retirement plan,” he said skeptically.

I didn’t disagree. Compared to the long hours I worked as an analyst, it was easier. And yet, having new people in my home every week, struggling to give them a warm welcome and connect the way they wanted, was more challenging than any financial report I’d ever read.

“Listen, Declan, I’m serious. If you ever want to come back, my door’s open.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got a B&B to run.”

“Well, look, you own it, but you’re not married to it. You could always?—”

A harried-looking guest headed toward the front desk.

“Mr. Sullivan, sorry to interrupt, but we need you!”

“Sorry, Nate, I’ve got to go.”

“But Dec?—”

I hung up on Nathan. Not to be rude, but because the man didn’t know the meaning of the word no. He could persuade a rock it was a shiny seashell. He was a good guy, but also the ultimate salesman, and I didn’t have time for his pitch right now.

Not when Harrison Stroberg, the first guest to book my Tree Hut since I’d taken over the B&B, looked as if he’d just stepped out of a rainstorm on a bright sunny day.

“What happened?” I asked, already resigned to bad news.

“A pipe burst in the bathroom. It’s spraying water everywhere.”

“Did you turn off the water?”

“We tried, but it didn’t work. Noah was turning the valve and?—”

“Nevermind.” I rounded the counter, running past him. “I’ll take care of it.”

I should have never opened the Tree Hut for bookings. It had sat vacant too long, and after a thorough cleaning and repainting, it was still giving me headaches.

When the Swallow’s Nest Resort opened, I had actually been relieved. Maybe it would take away a few guests, and I could enjoy my weeks with fewer interruptions. I didn’t need much to keep this place going since it was my house, too. Just a trickle of guests would suit me fine.

I’d mostly taken on the B&B for my aunt’s memory, not out of a desire to actually house strangers day after day.

But instead of taking my bookings, the darn resort had somehow increased the flow of tourists. Their marketing had put Swallow Cove front and center—even before they were open—and apparently a Treehouse B&B was just too charming to pass up.

So, as bookings filled, I opened up the Tree Hut for the first time. And now here we were, with a burst pipe, water damage, and damp, unhappy guests.

Harrison’s boyfriend, Noah, opened the door when I arrived. He was six-foot-four and damn near wider than the door frame. He wrung his hands. “I tried to turn off the water to the toilet, but I made it worse.”

“You better show me.”

Noah turned, striding away, and I tried not to notice how very short his shorts were. It was tough with the way his hips swayed with every step.

Water pooled on the bathroom floor. It was tile, so that wasn’t so bad. If the story ended there. Sadly, it did not.

Because it wasn’t just water on my floor, but…sewage. The toilet must have been clogged. And the water turn-off valve that came out of the wall? It was broken clean off, with water spraying from the pipe, adding to the mess.

“Well, shit.”

“Exactly,” Noah said, looking guilty. “I tried to turn it off and the valve broke!”

Harrison spoke behind me. “We need to find the main shut-off.”

“No kidding.” I spun and darted past him, going out the sliding door onto the wraparound deck, then accessing the utility closet attached to the back of the hut. Inside, I found the turn-off and twisted it.

It resisted, and I threw my weight into it, grunting with exertion and praying to whatever evil entity reined over B&B owners that this pipe wouldn’t break too.

I didn’t have the strength of Noah, but the valve finally gave, inching its way toward off.

When it was done, I was breathing hard and pouring sweat. Was I really just telling Nathan about the relaxing life of owning a B&B?

That was karma for you. Always ready to be a bitch.

I returned to the hut, where Harrison and Noah waited for me.

“I’m so sorry,” Noah said. “This is such a mess. I thought I could handle it, but I made it so much worse.”

Harrison squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, babe. The pipes were old and corroded.” He tossed me an apologetic smile. “Part of its charm, I suppose.”

“It’s not very charming right now,” I said sourly.

Harrison wrinkled his nose. “No, uh, and on that note… I know you’ve got to take care of all this, but we can’t stay here.”

“Of course not,” I said with a sigh.

Then brightened as I found the silver lining. “How would you feel about a complimentary booking at the new Swallow’s Nest Resort?”

“That new hotel just down the road?” Noah sounded excited. “I saw they have a pool bar.”

“They do,” I said with a chuckle. “Pack up your things and I’ll call ahead. They’re newly opened, so they should have some rooms available. I’ll get you a reservation.”

“That is so nice!” Noah flung his beefy arms around me, smelling like a disturbing mix of cologne, sweat, and shit.

Harrison tugged him back. “Easy, babe. Remember what we talked about. You need to ask before hugging.”

Noah winced. “Sorry. I just really appreciate how gracious you all are here. What a nice place!”

“Well, it’d be nicer without the sewage on the floor,” I said dryly, “but yes, Swallow Cove is a great place.”

Even a guy like me— who couldn’t be called social even on a good day—had managed to make a few friends. Hudson Nash, a transplant to town who ran Swallow Adventures boat tours, had latched onto a fellow outsider and adopted me as his best friend. And once he started dating Fisher, there was no avoiding the gaggle of his friends—not that I’d managed before that, when they took up so much space and energy and made so much noise when they gathered at The Rusty Hook, my favorite dinner spot.

It didn’t help that Cash was among them. He’d taken an interest in me early on. When I hadn’t returned it the first time, he’d seemed shocked. But instead of getting pissed, he’d grinned and told me I didn’t know what I was missing.

I was pretty sure I knew exactly what I was missing. But…week after week, year after year, he flirted shamelessly with me. And I had to admit, it was flattering even when it went nowhere.

And then there was that kiss…that brief, sweet brush of lips that changed everything.

For me, anyway.

I couldn’t see Cash without thinking of it. Not so much because the kiss was so amazing, but because I’d felt a flicker of attraction, a pull of connection, that was so rare for me.

But ever since my offer to let Cash stay at the B&B as needed—without a hookup for an excuse—he’d avoided the place.

I didn’t know where he spent his nights. Probably the resort now with a whole new set of Amys and Rauls. He didn’t need me or my B&B.

But that also meant he wasn’t my problem anymore. Except for right now. He worked the front desk at the resort and I’d just promised Noah and Harrison I’d get them a room.

I left the mess on the bathroom floor and returned to the main house to retrieve my abandoned phone.

The phone rang twice, then connected. “Swallow’s Nest Resort, this is Cash speaking. How may I help you?”

“Cash, it’s Declan.”

There was a long pause.

I cleared my throat. “Declan Sullivan, owner of?—”

“I know who you are, Declan,” he said, sounding exasperated. “I was just surprised. What can we help you with?”

“I’ve got a little situation over here at the B&B.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Yes, but I booked the Tree Hut for the first time, and we have a bathroom crisis.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No. I was hoping I could book a room at the resort. For my guests Harrison and Noah.”

“Let me see what we can do,” Cash said, the tapping of keys audible in the background. “We can’t have Harrison and Noah sleeping on the couch.”

His voice was light, teasing even, but it took me straight back to the night I’d found him in my great room.

To the things that almost happened. That most likely would have happened if I was a different kind of man.

I cleared my throat again, shifting. “I’ll pay the going rate, of course. If they could get a room with a view of the lake… I’d like to make up for ruining their treehouse experience.”

“I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything,” Cash said. “But yes, we can do it. We’re intentionally booking at only about forty percent capacity right now. Skylar wanted a soft opening to give us plenty of time to work out all the bugs as we take on guests. But I know he’ll make an exception in this case. I’ve got them in the system. Just send them over.”

“Thank you, Cash.”

“Anything for you, Dec. Say the word, and I’m your man.”

If only that were true. I’d offered him a place, and he’d rebuffed me. Possibly, he wanted more than a platonic place to lay his head. But that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? If I gave him the truth—the whole truth—of who I was and how I lived my life, Cash would most decidedly not be my man.