She sat on the end of the bed to put on running shoes.
She was exhausted from the long hours, and it was just day four. She wasn’t sure how she’d make it through the next month with little sleep because of the tension between her and Elliott. He so obviously didn’t want to be around her. So much so that he still had Lily out looking for a replacement at the risk of ticking off the sponsor. Putting distance between him and her for the remainder of the camp was probably a good thing. She might get more rest.
When he’d come to her room with a food offering and claimed not to be nurturing enough for a dog camp, she’d wanted to remind him that he was the only person who’d ever loved her unconditionally. Which was why she’d found working with dogs much more rewarding than working with people.
She got out her smartphone and earbuds.
For now, most of the prep was done, so she might as well get in a morning run before starting to work.
It wasn’t just Elliott’s thumb brushing across her mouth that had kept her awake every night since. It wasn’t just the way his breath had washed over her, making every nerve ending in her body roar to life with a needy ache.
There was a bit of personal housekeeping Rebel needed to get out of the way or she might not sleep at all during her stay on the island. That dark secret she’d kept hidden away for ten long years had been niggling at the back of her mind, pecking at her conscience since the moment she stepped onto the ferry bound for Angel Fire Falls.
She tucked a few things into a fanny pack and slung it around her waist. Before dealing with Elliott handing off the event to someone else, Rebel wanted . . . no, she needed to see the damage her mother had caused with her own eyes.
She wasn’t sure if seeing her mother’s handiwork firsthand would help or make her stay on the island unbearable. Either way, it was something she had to do.
She hustled down the stairs and out the front entrance so Rem could get in his morning walk. He seemed to be more focused if they started the day with both physical and mental exercise, and it had become their daily routine.
The cold morning air raced through her, and she zipped her jacket. She looked up and took in the overcast sky as Rem tortured every shrub on the front lawn. A fine sheen of cool mist settled over her skin. A few pillowy clouds were darker than the rest, but that wasn’t unusual for the area. She should be able to spend a few hours outdoors without an umbrella.
“Come on, boy.” She put her earbuds in, turned on the music, and set out jogging at a steady pace. The town was just a few miles away, so she reached the outskirts within thirty minutes.
She slowed to a walk on the main drag so she and Rem could catch their breaths. Since it was still early, not many people were out and about except a few shop owners who were getting their stores ready to open along Marina Boulevard. An old pink-and-white VW van that had been cleverly converted into a food truck was parked a little farther down the street. The steam swirling from the top and the delectable scent coming from the open window told Rebel there was coffee to be had. She stuffed her earbuds into her pocket and headed in that direction.
BRILEY’S BURGERS & BREWS was painted on the side of the van, and Rebel stepped up to the window.
“Coffee, please,” she said to the twentyish young woman working the window.
“Coming right up.” The server moved to one side of the small space inside the van to make the coffee.
The only other person who could fit inside turned around and froze when she saw Rebel. She was a pretty blonde who seemed vaguely familiar. She wiped her hands on a towel and stuck her head through the window. “Rebel?”
“Um . . .” She hadn’t thought anyone would remember her. Now that someone had, she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. “Yes, I’m Rebel.” She still couldn’t place the familiar face that stared back at her.
“I wondered when I’d see you.” Her voice wasn’t quite friendly but hovered somewhere over the neutral zone. “Welcome home.”
Home. That word knocked the air from Rebel’s lungs. She hadn’t thought of her return to the island quite like that.
“I . . . I don’t mean to be rude, b-but . . .” Rebel stammered.
“But you don’t recognize me.” The blonde slid cream and sugar packets through the window. “It’s okay. I only spent summers here when we were growing up. You haven’t been to the dining room at the Remington since you arrived, so I haven’t had a chance to reintroduce myself.”
Rebel pulled her brows together. “Charley?”
“The one and only.” She took a piping-hot cup from the server and handed it to Rebel.
The transformation was remarkable. Charley was no longer the plump teenager who used to torment her three cousins with a mean left hook.
“I, um, I’ve been ordering room service because we’ve been working so late.” Really, she still hadn’t been ready to face Elliott’s family. “I’m sorry. You looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you. I guess it’s been too long.” Rebel retrieved money from her fanny pack and exchanged the bills for the cup of liquid gold.
Charley gave her a thin smile. “No worries. I finally lost my baby fat. Took me a couple of decades longer than most kids, but better late than never, right?” She tapped fingers against the counter like she was sizing up Rebel.
Rebel shifted from one running shoe to the other as she fixed her coffee. “Elliott said you took over the restaurant at the Remington.” She’d thought changing the subject would dial down the discomfort level, but the mention of her cousin’s name only made Charley’s bland look turn more suspicious. “Um, is this yours too?” Rebel scanned the length of the van.
Charley leaned through the window and pointed to the sign painted on the side. “Briley’s my business partner. We’re keeping the food truck open for sentimental reasons, since it was her first establishment. Plus, it’s really popular with the tourists. We couldn’t just close up shop and disappear when a better offer came along.” She folded her arms. “It would’ve been like breaking a promise to the people in this town who count on us being here.”
Rebel had to stop her head from jerking to the side, the words like a smack across her face. There was the proof of those strong Remington family ties she’d once loved.
Rem leaned heavier against her side.
She tossed the stir stick in the small tabletop trash bin and schooled her expression. “It’s incredibly clever.” She lifted her cup. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed before walking back to the resort.”
Charley’s brow knitted. “You walked into town?”
“Ran.” Rebel lifted Rem’s leash. “It’s our morning thang.” She smiled.
Charley didn’t.
“Um, well, good to see you.” Sort of. “See you around the resort.” Unless Rebel’s plan to steer clear of as many Remingtons as possible was a success.
“Need a lift back?” Charley didn’t look at all certain that she should offer. “I’m just dropping off pastries and coffee beans. I’ll be heading back to the resort in a few minutes to help Briley with breakfast.”
Rebel shook her head. “I . . .” She glanced up the street toward her final destination—Morgan’s Market & Produce. “Thanks, but no. I’ll get reacquainted with the town before heading back. I enjoy the time outdoors.” She gave Charley one last uncertain smile and headed up the street.
The tightness in Rebel’s chest that she hadn’t realized was there released.
One more Remington down. She ticked another name off her mental list. Three more to go.
Just like that, the tightness was back.
She meandered up the street, taking in the familiar setting. A few new businesses had replaced the ones that had closed since she left the island. She walked past the Fallen Angel, a place that had been off-limits when she lived in Angel Fire Falls because of her age. And because her mother had practically lived in the old honky-tonk. It looked fresher than it had back then, obviously trying to attract a different breed of cli
entele than it had in her mother’s day.
Rebel settled on a bench across the street from the market to enjoy her coffee, and Rem laid his head on her knee to comfort her. Another ten cups or so and she might get up enough nerve to go inside.
Childish, since no one knew her mother had been driving the car that had changed the course of the Morgans’ lives. But she’d known. Her mother had told her so, and she felt partially responsible because she’d kept the secret so well. Rebel sipped her coffee and stared at the storefront. Her mother couldn’t have gotten a liver transplant if she’d been sent to prison for a hit-and-run.
And she couldn’t have confided in Elliott because he wouldn’t have stopped trying to help. Wouldn’t have stopped trying to fix it for her. And it would’ve tainted the course of his life just as it had Rebel’s.
When the cops didn’t show up on their doorstep, Rebel had packed up what they could fit in her mom’s old car, handed off Elliott’s letter to Mabel McGill when they boarded the ferry, and left the island bound for the hospital so her mom could wait for a transplant.
Rebel let another sip of bold brew coast over her taste buds.
The front door of the market opened, and a young man with brown hair stepped out and started cleaning the front windows.
A chill slithered through her.
He walked with an unusual gait. Despite the slight contortion of his facial features, he seemed happy and innocent, his brain too stunted from the accident to be anything else.
She watched him until he finished the task, the window so sparkling clean the glass was invisible except for the store name that was stenciled on with gold-and-black lettering. He went into the store and started on the inside of the window, even though it seemed spotless from where she sat.
She barely noticed the crack of thunder. She didn’t run for cover when the misty air turned to a light drizzle. She just kept staring at the raindrops sluicing down the squeaky-clean window, even after little Danny Morgan—who wasn’t so little anymore—moved away, undoubtedly to do some other menial task for his parents’ store.
The dull ache of sorrow made her want to run straight for the ferry crossing and disappear like she had years before.
Elliott upended his double-walled coffee tumbler as he sat behind his desk in the resort’s administrative offices and sent the week’s payroll checks to the printer. He’d placed the weekly supply orders, paid the resort’s taxes, ran profit projection reports based on their upcoming bookings for the month, and sent off all the bills that were due.
He glanced at the clock on his computer. All before eight thirty in the morning so he could work with Rebel as soon as she came downstairs.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with one hand, dog-tired from working at an even faster pace than usual.
Scratch that. Tired from not sleeping because of working with the only person he’d ever allowed to cut out his heart with a rusty knife. Tired from the excitement that rushed through him, making all his limbs prickle when he thought of spending more time with her.
Dammit.
Lily needed to find that substitute sooner rather than later.
He snatched up his phone and sent her a text.
Any ideas on where to find a replacement?
She texted right back.
Working on it as we speak.
He’d expected nothing less from his future sister-in-law. Her efficiency to solve any problem should have set him at ease. She’d find someone more suitable to work with Rebel, and he’d be off the hook. Except instead of setting him at ease, it only kicked up an ugly case of heartburn.
Dammit to hell.
What had Elliott done to make the universe hate him so much?
Guilt tickled his stomach like a feather.
He and he alone knew what he’d done. He’d spent the years since his mother’s death trying to make up for it.
He let his head fall back against the chair, and he stared at the blank white ceiling.
He needed to go back to San Francisco. Back to the partnership he was neglecting. Back to the adrenaline rush the world of high finance offered and the fast-paced life that kept his mind off the past.
The printer spit out the last of the payroll checks, then went silent.
Hell, who was he kidding? It wasn’t just that his pulse still kicked when Rebel looked at him. Or that his mouth still watered when she got too close.
His protective instincts still reared up when he thought of the hardships she’d endured because of her mom. He wasn’t sure what she’d been through after her mom passed or how Rebel had survived, but he hoped it had been an improvement over her rocky childhood.
He grabbed the paychecks off the printer, signed the top one, and shuffled it to the bottom of the stack to sign the next.
When he got to his own check, he stared at the modest amount on the right.
Just a few months ago, he’d been making exponentially more zeroes.
He picked up his phone and dialed the senior partner’s office number, certain most of the partners had already been at work for several hours. That was how they got to be partners.
Mick picked up on the first ring. “McPhearson.”
“Answering your own phone?” Elliott kept his tone upbeat, not wanting his dark mood to trigger an alert with the man who’d recruited him right out of college, then spent years as his mentor.
“My assistant quit,” Mick grumbled.
Elliott snorted. “How many assistants have you burned through this year?”
“You’d know if you’d actually been here,” Mick shot back. “Please tell me you’re calling because you’re coming back to work soon.”
Finally, Elliott could deliver good news. “As a matter of fact, I am. I need another month, then I’ll be occupying that corner office.” One month, some solid ideas to generate more revenue during the off-season, and a successful service dog event with lots of press and a satisfied sponsor would put the Remington right where Elliott needed it to be. Hopefully.
Silence hung in the air.
A desolate feeling gnawed at his gut. The same feeling he got when a particular stock was about to plummet. It was a sixth sense, a natural gift, and it had saved his clients from substantial losses. Now that sixth sense told him his value to the firm was about to free-fall.
“Listen, about that.” Mick’s typically solid voice came out just above a whisper. “I had to give it to Lucas Foster. He’s a partner now.”
Elliott bolted out of his chair. It rolled backward and bumped against the oak credenza behind his desk. “What the hell?” He ran a set of fingers through his hair to calm his temper. Foster was a clown who had latched on to Elliott’s talent and ridden his coattails by mimicking all his trades. The fact that one of the senior partners was Foster’s uncle hadn’t hurt his climb up the company ladder. “I’ve run circles around that joker for years.”
“I had no choice. We’ve landed some big new clients, and we need all the help we can get. Lucas is actually here. Working.” At least Mick had the decency to sound sympathetic.
“I’ve given two thousand percent to the firm since the day you hired me.” Elliott paced the length of his office. “And now because I needed a personal leave of absence to help save my family’s business, you’re giving away my office?” He paced back toward his desk. “An office I paid dearly for, I might add.” When the firm required a buy-in from new partners, Elliott hadn’t hesitated to write the check. Unlike most of the others, who spent everything they made living the life and keeping up the image, Elliott paid cash. Everyone else had to have the firm loan them the money.
“What do you expect, Elliott? You’ve been gone for months.” Mick sighed into the phone. “Look, you know I have your back, but I’ve only got one vote. The other partners are getting antsy, and if they decide to vote you out, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Elliott let his head fall forward. “When’s the next vote?”
“Don’t kno
w,” Mick said. “Nothing’s on the calendar yet. Mainly because I don’t have an assistant to keep my calendar organized.”
“Then do me a favor.” Elliott pushed his chair under the desk and headed to the door. “Hold off the other partners for one more month. That’s all I need, then you have my word I’ll be back.” He stopped in the doorway. “And I’ll be ready to work twenty-four-seven to make it up to the firm.”
The sound of crickets was deafening.
Finally, Mick said, “One month. Then your ass better be back here, even if your office is the copy room. Got it?”
The hard edge to Mick’s tone was oddly comforting. The challenge in his voice and the way it never failed to get Elliott’s hackles up was exhilarating and motivating.
A certain redhead who’d just shown up again out of nowhere was having the same effect on him.
Which was unacceptable.
“Got it.” He flipped off the light switch and headed toward the main lodge’s front door. Now all he had to do was tell Lily to forget about a replacement, take charge of a dog event he knew absolutely nothing about, work with a woman who already had his pulse racing through his veins even though he knew he couldn’t let history repeat itself, and break the news to his family that he wasn’t staying in Angel Fire Falls. All in a month’s time. He pulled up a mental calendar in his head to tick off the days until the camp would be over.
No worries.
What could go wrong with such a perfect plan?
“And, Elliott?”
“Yeah?” Elliott pushed through the front door and stepped into the chilly morning air.
“Don’t let me down,” Mick said.
Well, hell. Letting people down was what he did best. But not this time. He was determined to break the curse. “I don’t plan to.” Elliott reached his Jeep and opened the door.
“If you do . . .” Mick hesitated.
Which had Elliott stopping cold. He turned around and leaned back against his Jeep to wait for Mick’s other four-hundred-dollar Italian shoe to drop.
Dare Me Again Page 7
