Your B&B or Mine

by Melissa West

  So why did she feel so small?

  Despite her success in Boston, and her ability to move up the ranks of the consulting firm where she worked, she still wanted to please the people of Maple. The desire to have them like and respect her ran deep.

  Leigh looped her arm through Savannah’s and pulled her close. “Well, we have things to do. You know, real things,” she said with a condescending smirk. “You should try it.” And then she grabbed the handle of Savannah’s suitcase and directed her back out the bakery door and down the sidewalk, past the McLain twins and Pastor Parkins, who were still gossiping, to the familiar cobblestone road at the end of Main Street, which curved and bent its way back to Maple Cove Bed and Breakfast, the Hale family business and their childhood home.

  They stared up the oak and dogwood tree-lined drive to the two-story blue Victorian home, its wide front porch empty except for the six rocking chairs that had always sat there, and the white porch swing where Savannah’s mama used to read to the kids before bed during the summer.

  “Have you been there since…you know…she left?” Savannah asked, her heart so heavy she wanted to wrap her arms around herself to keep it from falling to her feet.

  Leigh reached for Savannah’s now empty coffee cup and passed her the handle to her suitcase. “I didn’t want to go in alone. You and Jack weren’t here, and I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t go in.”

  Savannah draped an arm around her sister, who immediately became uncomfortable and shrugged out of it. Leigh was never one for affection and had always hated showing her emotions. Clearly, some things never changed.

  “I need to grab some paperwork from the museum,” Leigh said, refusing to meet Savannah’s gaze. “Okay if I see you later?”

  Savannah nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Of course,” she said.

  They said their good-byes with the promise that Leigh would join Savannah at the bed-and-breakfast once their brother Jack arrived that afternoon.

  As soon as Savannah crossed onto the road and out of sight of the town gossipers, she reached up and wiped away the beads of sweat that had dripped down her neck. She’d forgotten how suffocating spring could be in Maple, how it hit a person like a blanket of heat. It felt more like summer, as though Mother Nature just shrugged and went on to the scorching season, bypassing the lighter months.

  Savannah had just decided to pick up her suitcase, which refused to roll easily across the cobblestone, when a tingly feeling rippled down her spine, settling at the base of her back. Her skin pricked with awareness and familiarity and something else—something she’d tucked away long ago. Before she could lift her eyes to confirm what her body already knew, a deep voice breathed, “Savannah?”

  Her gaze drifted up, and her mouth fell open. Well, at least now she had the answer to the question of what he looked like. Because standing on the front steps of the bed-and-breakfast, wearing business slacks and a white collared shirt and looking like he stepped out of a magazine, was the one person who could make this day worse.

  Logan Park.

  The only person in the world who knew the real reason Savannah left Maple.

  ...

  Logan stared down at Savannah, at a loss for how a girl as pretty as she had been could become even more beautiful as a woman. Her once slim frame had filled out in all the right places—from the tank top that stretched across her full breasts to the khaki linen pants that hung low on her hips and clung to her ass. She was all woman now, and the temptation to pick up where they had left off ate away in his mind. Only, nothing had changed, and he still didn’t deserve her. Which was why he’d spent the better part of his twenties trying to forget her. The problem was…there was no forgetting a girl like Savannah.

  To this day, he still remembered the first time he met her. Billy Walsh had just called Logan’s mother a whore, and though Logan wasn’t really sure if she was—at nine he had no idea what that word meant—he didn’t like Billy’s tone, and so it made sense to drive his fist into Billy’s face. The whole class surrounded them on the playground, and then when Logan won, they were all, Poor Billy. Everyone except Savannah. She walked over and lifted Logan’s chin, studying his already swollen left eye and tsking loudly as she glared back over at Billy. “That wasn’t nice of him,” she had said. Then she helped him inside and cleaned his bloody lip and right there, at that moment, a tiny piece of his locked heart opened up. But he soon realized Savannah Hale wasn’t his kind of girl.

  She was Will’s kind of girl.

  Logan pushed his thoughts away and started down the steps of the bed-and-breakfast. “Can I help you with your bags?”

  She tightened her hold on the handle of her carry-on “What are you doing here?” she spit out.

  Well, that was fast. He had hoped to get in a few niceties first, but Savannah was never one to bullshit with him. Everyone else? Yeah. But once her walls came down after Will died, they’d never gone back up around him. Her shoulders would relax, her eyes soften, like for once she could breathe.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. She was an amazing lady.”

  Savannah crossed her arms and tilted her head, her expression as plain as day. She didn’t want his condolences, or anything else from him. Logan almost laughed at her tenacity. Even after suffering the loss of her mother, she wasn’t a broken woman. She could take care of herself, which was one of the things that drove him so crazy about Will—he’d treated her like a delicate flower, when Savannah was less a flower and more a tall oak, whose limbs refused to break even in the worst weather.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  Logan smirked. “Well, now. That’s two questions.”

  Savannah’s face lit with anger, and again Logan had to force himself not to laugh. She was different now, yet the same, that angry sass all too familiar.

  During the Homecoming parade senior year, Logan had convinced Will to help him decapitate the mascot. He had never seen Savannah so mad. But then again, he had gotten used to her scolding when he was a teenager. Back then, Logan was all about pranks and baseball and girls, and Savannah was as studious as they came. He had always known her wings would carry her somewhere. He just never imagined they would carry her as far as Boston.

  “I want to know, right now, what you’re doing on my property, Logan Park.”

  Biting back a smile at her use of his full name, his gaze lifted to Savannah’s face, and suddenly his bullshitting and smirk disappeared. At first glance, she appeared as strong as ever. But within her eyes, there lay a sadness that cut straight through his chest, settling in his heart. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not yet. She had just lost her mother and needed time to grieve and heal, and he knew she would grow hostile as soon as he said the words. Plus, he was enjoying the brief hints of easiness they shared. Well, maybe not easiness, but she wasn’t yelling. Again, not yet.

  “I’m in town on business,” Logan said, glancing left to the outdoor garden. In its center, a couple sat on a stone bench, the man reading to the woman, the look on her face so full of love that Logan wondered if the expression was fake. Surely that sort of love didn’t really exist. At least not in his world.

  “I didn’t ask what you were doing in town. I asked what you were doing here.”

  Their eyes locked, and Logan thought he saw a touch of hope in her eyes, like maybe she wanted to see him after all. He took a step toward her, unable to remain still with her so close after so long. A rush of adrenaline shot through him, memories weaving through his mind. Soft touches. Warm smiles. A thousand conversations about nothing that meant everything.

  But then the look disappeared from her face, and he swallowed hard, knowing there was no way around it—he had to tell her. He opened his mouth and calmly said, “I’m with Hartridge and Long. Their Atlanta office.”

  She stared at him, her face a mix of confusion and annoyance. “And you are telling me this why?”

  He cleared his t
hroat. Surely she had received the paperwork by now, but by the expression on her face, she knew nothing of his company, which meant she had no idea. Closing his eyes, he took a step back. “Look, we’ll talk later. After you’ve settled everything. I’m sure you—”

  “Logan Park, you leave without explaining, and I will roll my carry-on over your toes. What does Hartridge and Long have to do with you being at the bed-and-breakfast?”

  With one more long sigh, Logan forced himself to look up. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a coward. Stubborn? To the bone. Selfish? He had his moments. But he wasn’t a coward.

  “Hartridge and Long is a real estate investment company.”

  “So?”

  He drew a breath and released it, forcing the words out. “The real estate investment company slated to buy the bed-and-breakfast.”

  Chapter Two

  “Get off my front steps!” Savannah shouted, anger taking over all reasonable thought and action. She’d had enough. She wanted to step inside her childhood home and allow the warmth of her parents’ memories to wash over her. She wanted to cry in her old bedroom and beg God to bring her mama back.

  What she didn’t want to do was stay there in front of Logan Park, the one person who could break her, when it took every bit of her strength to stand. She couldn’t handle it. And now he was there to buy her bed-and-breakfast? No, no, no, no, no!

  “Anna, look, it’s—”

  “Don’t you dare call me that. We aren’t friends. We were never friends.” Savannah knew her words were harsh, even untruthful, but what was she supposed to say? He’d left, and now he stood on the steps of her bed-and-breakfast, talking about buying it, as though it weren’t the most hurtful thing he could possibly say to her. The weight of everything pressed down on her shoulders, her chest. Any second she would crumple.

  She drew a rattled breath and tried to focus on Logan without seeing all the things in him she’d once adored. The way his long lashes shadowed his eyes. The way his hair always had a just-woke-up look about it. How could a person change so much and yet remain exactly the same? “Please, leave. I need to sort out my mama’s burial, and I can’t do that with your face looking over my shoulder.”

  Logan’s careful facade cracked, and the smirk dropped to a frown. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. But when you’re settled, we need to talk about this. We’re willing to offer you a very generous amount of money.”

  Savannah covered her eyes with her hands, wishing she could block out everything. The pain. The memories. God, the memories… “Just leave already.”

  Logan walked down the steps and around her, sending a chill up her spine as his lemongrass scent hit her. He still smelled exactly the same—all earth and freshly laundered clothes and a yearning for something important but he hadn’t quite figured out what. Her heartbeat kicked up at the thought, and she pushed it aside. The man before her wasn’t that Logan, though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever truly known him at all.

  She started up the steps, when Logan called out her name. She dropped her arms to her side in defeat. “What now? Are you here to steal the dog, too?” She motioned to the collie curled up on the front porch.

  Logan stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground before tilting his head up and peering over at her. It was the same look he used to give her that summer, when no one else was around, like he could see through her soul with just the slightest glance. “I’m sorry about Jane. I am. But we were friends, Savannah. We were a hell of a lot more than friends.” And then he continued down the winding road and out of sight before she could respond.

  With a shudder, she tucked away the emotions she felt at his words, the doubt and insecurity she’d harbored for all of her adulthood, and pushed her way through the screen door and into the foyer of her family’s bed-and-breakfast.

  The smell of old wood and apple cider and a thousand precious moments hit her, stopping her in her tracks. Dust floated in the air, refusing to settle, like even it had no idea what to do now that Jane Hale was gone. Savannah’s mama had an air to her, an ability to make people see things her way. To make them feel special, loved. She was the reason the business had been so successful, even garnering articles in Southern Living and RedBook. Twice. The Maple Cove B&B had built a reputation across the South as the place to go for comfort and friendship. And now it was over.

  A shudder worked its way down Savannah’s back and before she could help herself she was sobbing. Why hadn’t she come home more? Why hadn’t she called her mama more? Why, why, why? She kneeled on the floor and cried into her hands, ignoring everything around her, wishing she could sink into the floor and hide until the funeral was over. It wasn’t until she heard a man clear his throat that it occurred to her that she might not be alone.

  Panic gripped Savannah’s chest. She hadn’t asked Leigh if the bed-and-breakfast had guests. She just assumed they would close it down for business until everything could be settled, but clearly…

  Savannah peeled open one of her eyes and turned her head to the left, to the small dining room full of tables, where guests ate their meals. Sure enough, fate loved her today, and the room overflowed with people, all of them staring at her with a mix of expressions on their faces.

  “Is this going to be a regular occurrence?” the old man closest to Savannah asked. “Because if so, I think I’d like a discount on my rate.”

  Savannah scrambled to her feet, her cheeks on fire as she wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand. “No—it— No it’s not, sir. It—” She glanced around the room for help, and her gaze locked on the white-haired Mrs. Cooke, who had helped Savannah’s mama run the bed-and-breakfast since Savannah was in diapers. Her heart leaped at the sight of her, tears threatening their return. “Mrs. Cooke?” She was as close to Savannah’s mama as they came.

  Walking over to the open doorway, Mrs. Cooke smiled sweetly at the guests and said, “Enjoy your breakfast. The biscuits are rolled fresh every morning.” And then she closed the French doors and drew their blinds, set down her teapot on the water tray in the foyer, and wrapped her wrinkled arms around Savannah. “Dear God. I never thought I’d see you again, Savannah Jane.”

  Savannah’s bottom lip trembled at her full name, and she buried her head into Mrs. Cooke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I had no idea we had guests.”

  “It’s all fine, honeybunch. They’ve seen worse. Now let’s get you fixed up before your brother and sister arrive. They need your strength, even if you don’t feel it yourself.”

  Savannah nodded. Her strength. She thought of Logan out on her front porch, and how her heart had slammed to a halt the moment she saw him. How could she feel such relief and at the same time such anger at the sight of a person? It had taken all her effort not to rush into his arms and settle into his chest like she had after Will’s funeral. But that Logan Park wasn’t the same Logan Park who broke her heart, who made her question if their friendship had all been in her head. So, unsure how to handle him earlier, she’d gone with yelling. Because at least if she yelled, she wouldn’t cry.

  So much for strength.

  ...

  Logan settled into a chair in the back of Southern Sandwich and Fudge, ignoring the stares that seemed to follow him since his arrival in Maple Cove. The smell of fresh pancakes and syrup, mixed with the sizzle of frying hash browns, attacked his senses in the best possible way. He drew a breath and let it wash over him. If only his father didn’t live in town, Logan might have liked to move back to Maple, but living in the same town as Canton Park sounded as appealing as having his fingernails ripped off. His upbringing had been enough to make him want to avoid the man for the rest of his life.

  Unlike Will, who’d had a perfect childhood and supportive parents, the definition of Southern breeding, Logan’s father drank liquor like most people breathed air. His father had wanted him to work down at the cotton mill a town over when he graduated, and when Logan told him he wanted to go to college instead, his father laughe
d. “What would a loser like you do in college?”

  Logan’s mom was no better, spending more time in bed with either men half her age or men who had no business talking to anyone other than their wives. Alcoholic for a father and a whore for a mother—how could Logan amount to anything? He couldn’t and wouldn’t.

  Except for Will.

  Will pushed him to care about school, to join the baseball team, and get his head out of his ass. And everything was great, until Will started talking about Savannah. The very girl who had stolen a piece of Logan’s heart all those years ago. But as she started coming around more and more, it became apparent that Logan was a shadow—a black shadow that did nothing more than ruin their happy lovers glow. And he resented her for it. Resented that she’d chosen Will over him. Didn’t she feel their connection? He guessed not, until that one day at the lake.

  She had gone out by herself on her family’s old bass boat, only to have the battery die on her. As it was, he figured she would rather swim home than take a lift from him. Their relationship had become a mix of sarcasm and avoidance. But he had been working as a guide that summer, and there was no one else around. Just him in a guide boat, and then it was the two of them, talking as he secured her boat to his and took her to her father’s truck parked at the dock.

  She begged him not to tell Will—saying that she was embarrassed, that he would judge her for going out on her own and he would be right. Logan hadn’t noticed until then that Savannah fidgeted whenever she thought she had lost control of the situation. And that day, Savannah was fidgeting like a crazy person. Unable to deny her, he agreed and they spent the next hour getting a new battery from her dad’s truck, then switching it for the bad one in her boat. And damn if by the end of that hour it wasn’t done—her name carved into his heart like reckless footprints in cement.

  He ignored his feelings for years out of respect for Will, but once he realized how deep they ran, he had no idea what to do. For a while he refused to talk to her, refused to even look at her, which did nothing more than cause one of the biggest arguments he had ever had with Will. He’d told Logan he was an asshole, and all Logan could think was, “You have no idea how right you are.”