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CHAPTER FOUR

Declan

“When will my room be ready? I’ve been traveling all day. I’m tired.”

I attempted a reassuring smile and missed by a mile. My newest guest had arrived a day before her check-in and insisted the mistake must be mine. She was all of five-foot-one, even in sandals with chunky heels, and wore a pink sundress.

Those pretty trappings were a decoy. Marigold Lawson was about as far from sweet as I was, though she knew how to put on a smile that initially lulled me into a false sense of security.

Now, on our third conversation, I knew better.

“Ma’am, as I said before, your booking was scheduled for tomorrow. You’ll have to wait for my late check-out to leave before I can give you a room.”

“How long will that be?”

I flicked my gaze to the antique cuckoo clock in the front hall. “Their check-out is in twenty minutes, so?—”

She interrupted. “Twenty minutes is a long time to wait.”

“Unfortunately, the room will still have to be cleaned, so you’ll need to wait longer than that.”

“How long does it take to change some bedding?” she said dismissively. “I’ll expect to be in my room in twenty-five minutes or else I’ll have to talk to your manager.”

I bit down on a laugh. If only I had someone else to deal with this shit.

“I own the B&B.”

“Oh. Well.” She sniffed. “I’d hate to leave you a bad review.” She glanced around. “This place is really…quaint.”

“I’ll get the room ready as quickly as possible,” I said blandly. “Perhaps you’d like to go into town for lunch rather than wait here?”

She narrowed her eyes, then waggled a finger at me with a laugh. “Oh no, you’re not tricking me into going out so you can take your sweet time. My husband will get here soon, and he won’t stand for this nonsense.” She raised her phone, eyes focused on the screen. “I told him we should book the new resort. I wish I was having a poolside margarita right now.”

“Me too,” I muttered.

She glanced up. “What was that?”

“The resort is quite nice,” I said. “Maybe you can book it for your next stay.”

“Hmm. Maybe I will.”

She turned in a swirl of skirts and flounced over to the sofa where I’d found Cash sleeping all those nights ago. She sat with a huff and proceeded to glue her face to her phone.

The Jensens checked out ten minutes early—and I turned the room over in record time. When I returned to the great room to tell Marigold, she waved me off while tapping away at her phone, clearly in no hurry to claim the room I’d rushed to get ready for her.

Unbelievable . I set the key on the table at her knee and retreated to my quarters before I throttled the woman.

I opened a crossword app and lost myself in the clues.

3 Across. Wound up.

“Tense,” I muttered as I filled it in. “Sounds about right.”

The next couple were popular culture questions and beyond me. I skipped over them, looking for something else I could fill in.

5 Down. Calla lily’s family. I perked up as I scribbled in Arum.

With each answer, I got a little hit of dopamine. Gradually, I began to relax. Enough that when the phone rang, I picked it up without dread.

“Treehouse B&B, how can I help you?”

“It’s more about how I can help you. Great greeting, though. Very professional. I give you five stars.”

I recognized Nathan’s voice immediately. “Oh, hey, I didn’t look at the Caller ID before I picked up.”

“Obviously,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought we should finish our conversation from last weekend. You rushed off to deal with something.”

I sighed. “It’s probably not the best time to talk to me. I just dealt with the rudest guest. She threatened to leave me a bad review if I didn’t produce a room for her immediately, even though she showed up a day early, and frankly, I’m just over people right now.”

I huffed with all the exasperation I couldn’t show Marigold Lawson.

“Damn,” Nathan said. “Did you get her a room?”

“Yes, not that it’ll matter with someone like her,” I grumbled. “She probably left one anyway.”

“I can’t imagine living to please other people,” Nathan said.

Yeah, I wasn’t loving it either—especially because I was so damn bad at it.

All this talk about reviews had made me curious. I tapped the Speaker button, then navigated my phone screen to the Google page for the Treehouse B&B.

My top review was nice enough. Great town. Nice place.

The next one made me suck in a sharp breath.

Owner could be friendlier. I really loved the view of the lake though!

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked.

“Nothing, just…made the mistake of reading the reviews.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.” I zeroed in on the next critical comment. “Why did this guy open a B&B? He doesn’t even like people! I swear this guy has the worst case of resting bitch face I’ve ever seen. He’s more like a stern high school principal than a welcoming host.”

The words hurt. Not just because it was a critical review. Because it was true. I was all wrong for this kind of job. I’d taken the B&B because I had fond memories of staying with my aunt when I was a lonely, bullied teenager in need of an oasis. But I wasn’t my aunt. She was effortlessly warm and friendly. I was…rigid and withdrawn. Frigid even, if you asked some of my previous boyfriends.

“Ouch.” Nathan paused. “This might be easier than I thought.”

“What might be?”

“Talking you into coming to work with me.”

I groaned. “I told you before?—”

“Yeah, yeah. You own the B&B. I know. But what if you didn’t have to own it?”

I blinked. “Uh…I’m not sure where you’re going with that.”

“I’ve got some connections through my work. One of my clients is looking for lakefront property for a condo development. I think he’d love your spot in Swallow Cove.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t had the best luck with big developers coming in.”

“I can vouch for this guy,” Nathan said. “He’s got money to invest, and this would be a smart way to go about it. You told me yourself that Swallow Cove didn’t have enough housing.”

“Well, that’s true,” I said. “It has been a problem for a lot of the locals.”

“Exactly,” he said. “It’s a win-win. You help the town and get out of the B&B business.”

“And come work for you?” I said dryly.

He laughed. “Well, hey, I’ve never hidden my own motives.”

“Fair point,” I said.

“Think about it, will you? You don’t sound happy there.”

I glanced up at a framed photo of Aunt Millie beaming a huge smile down on me. I loved her. I loved what she’d built. But I wasn’t her, and maybe it was time I accepted that.

My heart ached as I replied, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

The rest of the day went smoother, as did the next. Marigold’s snootiness worked in my favor since she and her husband went out for breakfast every day.

But the guests just kept coming. The slower winter season when I could forget I lived in a B&B for whole weeks at a time was a thing of the past.

Every morning I provided some sort of breakfast, though during the week it was usually a selection of baked goods from the new Hot Buns Bakery that’d opened a few weeks ago or biscuits and chocolate gravy from Tastes Like Grandma.

Then I spent time checking folks out, flipping rooms, doing laundry—the freaking laundry never ended—checking more folks in, and digging up movies and games to entertain them in the evening while dodging their invitations to join in.

“Sorry, I’m headed out,” I blurted when a clingy older woman invited me to join her for a movie—for the third time. “Plans with a friend. You know how it is. See you all later.”

I snatched up my keys and wallet and darted out the door. I kept a small runabout boat docked behind the B&B, and I was already halfway down the shore toward The Rusty Hook when I realized I didn’t have my phone with me.

Shoot. There went my plan to call Hudson to meet up for a beer.

I docked behind the pub and crossed the back deck strung with lights. I edged between tables filled with rowdy tourists, their drunken laughter grating on my nerves.

The atmosphere inside was quieter. I swept my gaze over the crowd as I made my way to an empty seat at the bar.

Two members of the Weekend Hookers fishing group—Chester and Ansel—were sitting at the far end, nursing cheap beer and steadily working their way through a plate of onion rings.

I took a barstool a few seats down so they wouldn’t try to draw me into their latest complaint about fishing holes, tourism, or the price of gasoline.

Adriana Flores, the owner of The Grocery Spot, sat in a corner with Dustin Higgins, who was about fifteen years too young for her. That was sure to get some tongues wagging.

Mimsy and Pipsy, twins with matching white hair and dirt under their fingernails, waved to me and I shot them my first genuine smile of the day. They ran The Dirty Hoe, and garden talk was one language I could actually speak fluently.

And dead center in the room, around a round barrel table, sat Cash and his friends. Hudson’s young boyfriend, Fisher, was tossing a fry at Cash’s smirking face. There was no sign of Hudson, though, so he must be having dinner with his mother. Otherwise, those two tended to spend all their time together.

Ah well, that made me feel better about leaving my phone behind.

Cash glanced over, his eyes catching mine, and heat crawled over my neck and ears. I didn’t want him to think I was looking for him. I wasn’t. His friend group was right there in the middle of the room. How could I possibly miss them?

Still, I couldn’t seem to drag my eyes from his.

“Can I get you a drink?” Felix asked from his spot behind the bar.

I jerked my head around so fast pain zinged through my neck and I fought a wince. “Yeah, do you still have that dark beer on tap?”

“Buffalo Sweat?”

“That’s the one.”

“You got it.” Felix pulled the taps, efficient as he tilted the mug under the pour.

I drummed my fingers on the bar top, trying to ignore the urge to turn and see if Cash was still watching me.

He always was.

Right on cue, a presence warmed my side a split second before Cash said, “Felix, can we get a pitcher of the cheap stuff?”

“Yup,” Felix said with an easy smile that I envied. “Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll do my best to entertain myself,” Cash said, a playful lilt in his voice.

Felix grinned. “Don’t watch me so hard your eyes cross. I know I’m fine, but we don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Cash laughed. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

Felix turned his attention to refilling Ansel’s beer, and Cash still didn’t look at me. I huffed an annoyed breath.

There was a time he’d have stood too close to me. He’d have taken every opportunity to bat those pretty blue eyes my way and tease me about how much I liked it.

Good thing that’s over.

Had been over since I’d refused his kiss.

Now, he wanted to be friends. Which was a good thing.

I lifted my glass and took a mouthful of the dark, malty beer to hide my scowl.

Cash wasn’t punishing me for not indulging him. He was respecting boundaries I set. It was the mature thing to do. And yet, the new distance he kept nagged at me.

I turned to say something—anything—just as Felix set the pitcher on the bar. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Cash said with a smile that made me tense. “I’m good for a tip later.”

“Just a tip?” Felix asked with a wink.

Cash laughed. “You’re spicy tonight.”

“Just kidding,” Felix said. “You know I don’t even swing that way.”

“You’d be surprised how many people say that before they meet me,” Cash said with a grin.

I couldn’t hold back a snort. “So modest.”

Cash’s gaze landed on me. Finally. “That’s me,” he said. “Always a cocky bastard.”

“With good reason,” Felix said.

Cash picked up the pitcher and returned to his table. I finished my beer and ordered a second, valiantly trying to ignore the group of friends a few feet away.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but even in the din of noise, I could pick out Cash’s exact tone—and the moment it went silent.

There was a smattering of sudden applause and catcalls. Felix’s eyes widened. “Oh, boy.”

I spun in my seat and there they were—Sawyer and Cash.

Locked in a kiss in the middle of the damn pub.

A lump formed in my throat as I watched the way Sawyer’s hands cupped Cash’s face, the way they leaned in toward each other.

My heart tumbled into my stomach. Cash hadn’t changed at all, had he? He’d gone from flirting with the bartender to making out with his friend.

And probably fucking someone else later. This is who he is. You know this.

I tossed a few bills on the bar and headed for the door. I couldn’t stay and watch any more of this display.