"No, we're not. We can't go back. We move forward and we don't have regrets."
"I don't have regrets about last night. I'm not sorry we were together. I'm just very aware of time passing."
"Our time isn't up yet."
"That's true."
"Then we don't need to end things now."
"No, we don't."
"Good." He walked around the desk, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a long kiss that filled him with lust. When they broke apart, he said, "Are you really busy right now? Any chance you could take a break upstairs, in your bedroom, or in mine?"
She gave him a breathless smile that unfortunately came with a negative shake of her head. "I wish I could. But I can't, Justin. I have to figure out where to find some money."
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Too much debt, not enough income." She sat down behind her desk. "I keep looking at the numbers, but I can't figure out a way to make things work." She rubbed her eyes. "Also, some of this just doesn't make sense. So, I need to go over it again and again until it does."
His gaze narrowed as he took in her troubled expression. He pulled a chair around the corner of her desk and sat down next to her. "Let me help."
"You just got done working. You don't need to do this."
"I want to do it." His gaze moved to the open brochure on the desk. "Is that the offer from the company that wants to buy your inn?"
"Yes. I started reading it, but I haven't gotten through it. Some of it is confusing. And there's still a part of me that doesn't even want to consider it, but maybe I should. I'm not just going to take myself down; I'm going to take everyone down. I have really tried so hard not to fail, but maybe I'm just not up to this."
"Whoa. Where is this defeatist attitude coming from?" he asked in surprise. "What happened to my cheerleader?"
"Reality happened. I've been running away from the truth. I've worked really hard to overcome my weaknesses, to play to my strengths, but this inn, this hundred-year-old building, keeps falling apart. And the choices I've been making are probably wrong. You said yourself I give too much stuff away."
"That's true, but you're just having a bad day."
"A lot of bad days."
"And you're tired, which is partly my fault. But you can do this. You're smart. If the ship is going in the wrong direction, you can turn it around."
"Or it might just go down."
"Lizzie. What aren't you telling me?"
She gave him a weak, emotional look. "I'm not that smart, Justin. I have some issues…"
Her words surprised him once more. "What kind of issues?"
"I don't like to talk about them."
"Well, tough. I told you all my secrets. Let's hear something from you."
She hesitated, then said, "I have dyslexia, which means I sometimes have trouble reading or comprehending things without spending a lot of time on them. I can mix up numbers if I'm not careful. I can usually work around it, but sometimes I still make a mistake. And when I'm tired, it gets more difficult."
"I'm sure it does, which means you should not be working on any of this now."
"I can't avoid my problems. I've been putting bills aside for a while, and they're all due or past due."
"You can take a few more hours, maybe a day or two?" he suggested, growing more concerned at the weary look in her eyes. She wasn't just exhausted from their night together. This weariness came from a much deeper place.
"Maybe," she said. "I just feel so stupid sometimes, and I hate that feeling."
He was beginning to understand that Lizzie's relentless optimism was a cover for insecurities she'd very cleverly hidden away. "When did you find out you had issues with learning?"
"Middle school. I faked my way through elementary school, but when I got into sixth grade, I started falling behind. It was awful. I'm the youngest of five kids, who are all super smart, and almost every teacher I had compared me to one of my siblings who had gone before me. They always thought I wasn't applying myself, because clearly I should be as smart as they were."
"How did your parents react?"
"They were disappointed with my grades, but they didn't understand the severity of my issues for a long time. I would just pretend that I was distracted or that I didn't do my homework. I thought it was better if they thought I was lazy or impulsive. My siblings would call me Dizzy Lizzie, because I was always spinning around, going from one thing to the next."
"You were trying to outrun your problems."
"Both literally and figuratively. Running helped me calm down so I could think. But all I could think about was that I was stupid. Finally, a teacher figured it out and called my parents in, and I had some testing, and then we all got on the same page. I received a lot of help after that, but it's not something you can fix, and it doesn't just go away." She paused. "My parents blamed themselves for not realizing I wasn't just being lazy, and they have done everything they could since then to get me whatever help I need. When they decided to invest in the inn…when my siblings did as well…it felt like everyone really believed in me. There are so many reasons why I can't fail." She tapped her finger against the Falcon Properties folder. "And I can't help thinking that maybe I should take this offer, because then everyone will get their money back and then some. I'll have achieved something."
Now he understood where she was coming from. "I get it. If you quit now, you don't fail. But you also don't win. You're not a quitter; you're a fighter, Lizzie. You've fought to get this far."
"Maybe this is as far as I can go. This morning when I took a shower, I heard a banging in the pipes, and I've had a plumber tell me that I might need to replace a lot of the pipes. I can't afford that. And if one breaks before I do the repairs, I could have a disaster on my hands."
"You could," he agreed. "But maybe you need to narrow down which pipes have to be replaced now and which ones can wait. Let me take a look at your books. Let me help."
"You don't need to do that. You should spend the afternoon with your grandparents."
"They're having tea in some Victorian house downtown. I'm going to meet them at the beach barbecue, so I'm free now, and I want to help."
"You're just going to tell me what I already know, that I should sell."
"Maybe it's not as bad as you think. You might just need to get creative."
She gave him a look of disbelief. "I thought I was the optimistic one."
"You are. So, let's get back to your let's make lemonade out of lemons attitude. Come on, babe. Snap out of it."
"Snap out of it?" she echoed.
"That's not going to work?" he teased.
"I don't think so," she said, but a reluctant smile parted her lips.
"Then let's work through all your options together. Maybe I can be the one to make lemonade this time."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Positive. But I might need to get a sandwich first. I haven't eaten all day."
"I can take care of that." She got to her feet. "I know you hate the word, but you are nice, Justin."
"So are you. And, for the record, I think you're one of the smartest people I've ever met."
Her eyes watered. "And just for that, I'm going to bring you some cookies, too."
He laughed. "Good. Now get out of here and let me get started squeezing those lemons."
Chapter Seventeen
Justin's optimism faded as he studied Lizzie's financials. The inn was bleeding money, and even though bookings were up, it would take her a while to dig out of the hole she was in. He could see that the bulk of the money had gone into repairs. He wondered how many of those problems had been or should have been disclosed at the time of purchase, but that was in the past. He needed to figure out how she could move forward from where she was.
The first thing she needed to do was stop comping people for minor complaints. But beyond that, she might need to take a hard look at breakfast. It wasn't just the food, but also the chef's salary that
was putting a dent in the profit margin.
He sat back in the office chair, taking a moment to think. After making him lunch and watching him work for a half hour, Lizzie had disappeared, asking him to let her know when he was ready to chat, but until then she couldn't handle watching him go through her books. He didn't blame her. He probably hadn't been hiding his emotions very well.
His gaze drifted to the offer from Falcon Properties. He'd also taken a good look at their proposal. It was generous. It would allow Lizzie to pay back her investors with a small percentage return on their investments. She would also bank some cash and receive a good salary that would be over and above what she was taking home now, which was next to nothing. But then, everything she had was invested in the inn.
However, what the offer didn't spell out was exactly how much autonomy she would have in decision making. Would she truly be running the inn or just be another employee, a cog in the wheel of a huge corporation?
The office door opened as he was pondering that question, and Lizzie entered with a look of trepidation in her beautiful eyes. He hated seeing the worry. He much preferred her laughing eyes or the delighted look that entered her gaze when he was touching her in just the right spot. He'd learned a lot of her favorite spots last night, and his body hardened at the thought of making love to her again. In fact, he couldn't really understand why they were doing this instead of that…
"Well?" she asked.
It took a minute to realize she was referring to her financial statements and nothing else.
He cleared his throat. "You have a complicated situation."
"Please don't sugarcoat it. I need to hear from the ruthlessly honest Justin Blackwood."
"Okay. You're hemorrhaging money and you'll have to make some big changes if you want to survive."
His words took the energy right out of her, and she sank onto the hard-back chair in front of the desk.
"I knew you were going to say that," she said heavily. "But bookings are up starting in June. The summer looks good."
"That is a bright spot," he agreed. "But the rest of April and May will be rough. You need to rethink breakfast and your chef."
"She does more than breakfast. She does the happy hours and the cookies…" Her voice trailed away. "Which you don't like, either."
"I love them, but they're costing you too much. And this beach picnic tonight—why are you paying for everyone's dinner? That should have been a separate event fee."
"It's because of the eclipse. It's a special event."
"You have too many of those. The most important thing for you is to sell rooms. Until your bookings are consistent on a year-round basis, you're not bringing in enough income to cover the extras. You probably need to cut the hours of some of your workers as well. Do you need someone at the front desk in the evenings? Can you cut Victor's hours back?"
"His girlfriend is pregnant. He needs the hours."
"That's not your problem."
"He's my employee. I can't be heartless."
"He's not even that good of an employee. I've seen your notes."
"He's getting better. He's young."
"And the cook's daughter? Why did you pay her top dollar for taking a tray around a cocktail party? You could have set the appetizers on a buffet."
"She's saving for college."
"And you're not running a charity, Lizzie. These people are your employees, not your family."
"They can be both."
"You need to get to profitability first, then worry about family and friends and helping everyone else out."
"And?" she asked hopefully. "Do you have a plan?"
He wished he did. "Honestly, I'm not sure there is another option besides selling out. This offer is good. You'd still want to negotiate, see if you could get more, but you'd end up in the black and so would your investors."
"But I wouldn't be running the inn anymore."
"Well, you would be, but it wouldn't be yours."
"I've worked for a lot of chains, Justin. I know what it's like to be an employee. I've put in so much time and effort…to end up being another staff member. I don't want to do it. But…" She drew in a breath. "I might have to do it, because it's not just my money or my time on the line."
"Is anyone asking for their investment back?"
"No, but when I first asked for money, I told everyone I'd try to at least get them their initial investment back within four years. I have another year to go on that promise."
"That buys you some time."
"The things you want to cut are why the inn is popular. Guests don't just come here for a cute, charming bedroom. They want the beautiful breakfast, the happy hour on the patio, the people who make them feel like they're at their home away from home. Just ask your grandmother. She's my customer. And she keeps coming back because of what I offer."
"You need more guests like my grandmother every day of the year. Which brings us to marketing. You need to rethink your advertising and your marketing plans."
"I don't spend that much."
"Exactly. But what you are spending might not be targeted appropriately."
"Shay thinks we should sell Noah and Alice's story to some travel magazines. Their romantic reunion might create new interest in the inn."
"That's a great idea. And your ghost should be more prominently featured. Find out more about the girl who is allegedly haunting my room and talk her story up."
"Everything you say makes sense. I just need to find a way to make an objective decision and not an emotional one."
"Good luck with that," he said dryly.
"Thanks for working on all this. I need to think about everything you said."
"No problem. I like business problems and challenges, puzzles to figure out."
"I guess I'm happy that I've given you a puzzle to work."
He grinned. "How about giving me something else that's fun—maybe a kiss?"
"You have probably earned it." She got up from her chair, leaned across the desk and met him in what should have been a lighthearted kiss, but as soon as their mouths touched, the desire flared.
He grabbed her shoulders and held her in place as their kiss got deep and hot.
She broke away a second later, her eyes sparkling. "You're like a fire. Every time I get too close, I feel like you're going to consume me."
"That's how you make me feel, too," he said, wondering how he was going to walk away from her in a few days.
The door opened behind Lizzie, and she jumped, stepping away from the desk as Shay walked in.
Shay gave them a surprised look. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's fine," Lizzie said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "What's up?"
"Naomi is almost done packing up picnic boxes. Ramon will take them down to the beach in the truck. The guests will be meeting in the foyer in thirty minutes."
"Great."
"I'm going to head down to the beach now, to set up our table. I'm assuming you're coming with the guests."
"Yes, I'll make sure everyone has a ride. Thanks, Shay."
"No problem. And no hurry. We still have an hour. You can finish up whatever you were doing…" She gave them both a smile and then left.
"So, we have a little time," he said.
"No, we don't," Lizzie said quickly. "I need to get ready for the picnic. I didn't realize it was so late. Time seems to fly when we're together."
He was becoming acutely aware of just how fast time was flying. But he couldn't think about the end, not yet. They still had a couple of days…a couple of nights.
"Are you coming to the beach?"
"I'll come down with my grandparents. But later tonight…you and me?"
"I should say no, because it feels like every minute we're together is just going to make it harder to say good-bye," she said.
"Or we could take advantage of the time we have."
"I'll think about it."
As he got to his feet and followed her out of th
e office, he knew he should think about it, too. On the other hand, while their affair might have an end date, that date didn't have to be today. Hopefully, she'd agree. Because he wanted at least one more night with her.
Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, Lizzie had sent all the guests, except for two, down to the beach. Now, she was waiting for Noah and Alice to come downstairs. She'd volunteered to drive them to the lake, and she was looking forward to finding out more about their reunion story. She was also happy to have a little more space from Justin. She didn't know what she was going to do about him, but she didn't think she'd have much success in saying no to anything he asked. She was too caught up in him. He lit her up every time he kissed her, and she wanted to hang on to that feeling as long as she could.
Her heart twisted at the thought of never seeing him again and she mentally scolded herself for getting so emotionally involved. But it was too late now. It was what it was.
Thankfully, her distracting and depressing thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Noah and Alice. They both looked happy and relaxed, dressed in casual beach wear. Noah wore tan slacks and a cream-colored shirt. Alice had on a sundress with sandals. The smiles on their faces were as bright and sunny as the day outside.
"We're ready," Noah said. "Thanks for waiting."
"Of course. I'm glad we'll get a chance to talk before the big picnic."
"You have some questions," Noah said, meeting her gaze. "You want to know if our reunion will last."
"Now that you mention it, I am curious. Last night was rather dramatic."
"That's my fault," Alice said. "I didn't really expect Noah to answer that door. I thought it would be a stranger. I would apologize for disturbing him and then I would go downstairs and get a cab. But there he was."
"And then I was on the ground," Noah said dryly. "I've never passed out before."
"It was scary," Alice said. "Not just for me, but also for your friend."
Noah's gaze sobered. "I feel bad about Patty. She said she understood, that she'd always known I was waiting for Alice, but I fear I might have hurt her."
Can't Fight The Moonlight (Whisper Lake Book 3) Page 19
