The dock gave a hard shimmy, and he turned in time to see Molly finishing up a little sashay at the other end of the pier. Obviously she was on cloud nine because Nathaniel Quinn was sleeping under her roof. She was absolutely right—and absolutely wrong all at the same time.
twenty
Nathaniel Quinn is staying right here at the Bluebell Inn.
Molly had been repeating this phrase to herself since yesterday afternoon, but it was only just beginning to sink in.
She’d been eager to see Jordan (Nathaniel Quinn!) again, but it seemed as though the universe was conspiring against her. Every time he and Adam left the building she was otherwise occupied. The same when they returned.
Saturday morning she ran some errands, and by the time she returned they were gone. She cleaned the four occupied rooms and moved on to her other chores only to find they’d returned in her absence.
In the late afternoon she relieved Levi at the front desk solely in hopes of catching a glimpse of her favorite literary genius. But so far she was striking out. He’d disappeared somewhere on the property. How was he so elusive—even when staying under the same roof?
She wandered into the library to “dust the shelves” but found it empty. She went out front to sweep the porch. And later she may have peeked out all the windows under the guise of watering plants. He and Adam must be upstairs, locked away in one of their rooms. Probably Jordan’s—he’d booked the suite. Was he even now penning the words of his very next novel, right under her roof?
Her heart gave a stutter. She felt a little swoony.
Grace came in the front door. “Did someone already sweep the porch?”
“I did.”
“Oh . . . thanks.” Grace started to set her purse down behind the front desk.
“I’ll take your shift,” Molly blurted. “If you have something else you want to do, I mean.”
Grace narrowed her eyes at Molly. “And why would you do that?”
“Can’t a big sister just do something nice for her little sister?”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing! Sheesh, so suspicious.” Molly wiped off the desk with a dustrag. She was bursting to tell her secret. Grace would know what a big deal this was for her. But she was sworn to secrecy. She bit her lip. Hard.
Grace was looking closely at Molly. “What are you doing?”
Molly tried for an innocent look.
“Your mouth is all . . . twisty.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Oooo-kay. You’re acting weird.”
“Weirder than normal?”
“Good point.” Grace hitched her purse back on her shoulder. “Well, far be it from me to turn down free time. I’ll be at Sarah’s.”
Almost an hour later Molly’s good deed paid off. At the sound of footsteps above her she closed out the game on her phone, fluffed her hair, and picked up the dusting cloth.
Adam appeared at the foot of the steps first, followed by Jordan. Both men greeted her, but she could hardly take her eyes off Jordan. He wore a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged his muscular frame.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened. “Hello, Molly.”
“Hi,” she breathed.
“We’re heading out to supper,” Adam said.
“Need any recommendations?” Her voice was less airy this time but it quivered a bit.
“No, thank you,” Adam said, pulling open the front door. “We have it covered.”
“I was craving pizza,” Jordan said.
“I hope he’s taking you to Buck’s then.”
“I hear it’s the best.”
“It’s different from the New York style you’re probably used to, but I think you’ll like it. If you like cheese. And who doesn’t like cheese, am I right?”
“That you are,” Jordan said.
Adam was holding the door for Jordan, but his friend had stopped.
“I’ll be right out,” Jordan told him.
Adam paused a moment before his eyes flickered to Molly. “See you, Molly.”
She gave a little wave. “Have fun.”
Adam pulled the door shut, leaving Molly alone with Jordan. Completely alone, actually, because they were the only guests at the moment, and her siblings were off-property.
And Nathaniel Quinn was standing right smack in front of her, obviously wanting to talk to her.
He’s just a guest. A regular old guest. Be professional, Molly.
Despite the heavy thumping of her heart she tried for a casual tone. “Is there something I can do for you? Is everything all right with your room?”
“Everything’s great. I love this place—the inn, the town. I see why Adam’s enjoying his stay so much.” His eyes warmed on hers.
Butterflies swarmed inside at the look. Could he be talking about more than geography? “I’m so glad. If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable, just let me know.”
“Well, now that you mention it . . .” He gave her a crinkly smile.
A flirtatious smile.
She swallowed hard. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
He put his hands in his front pockets, looking adorably uncertain. “I hope I’m not out of line here, Molly, but I wondered if you might be interested in catching a bite to eat with me sometime.”
Her lips parted. She blinked. Nathaniel Quinn was asking her out. On a date. Nathaniel. Quinn. On a date. Had she already said that?
Say something, Molly. Anything. “Um . . . but you’re checking out Monday morning.”
Aaaand she’d just given away the fact that she’d peeked at his reservation. Her face heated, her skin prickling beneath her arms. Maybe he’d think innkeepers always kept track of their guests’ comings and goings.
“Well, that’s true. However, I plan to come back as the summer progresses, at least once or twice. But I was actually thinking tomorrow night, if you’re not working. Do you like the Crow’s Nest?”
“Everybody likes the Crow’s Nest. There’s not a better view of the lake, and it’s kind of the place to go around here for proms and birthdays and anniversaries and whatnot—not that you need a special occasion to go there, of course. A regular old meal is reason enough—they have really good food. And Sunday nights are slow—here at the inn, I mean. Our slowest night of the week actually.”
Shut. Up. Molly.
She bit her lip, then thought of Grace’s twisty lips comment and stopped.
He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded and tried to temper the excitement that buzzed through her veins. “Sure. Sounds great.”
* * *
Adam glared at the inn’s front door as if it had committed some atrocious crime. He knew Jordan. He knew what was going on in that lobby right now. And he knew how Molly would respond.
His conversation with her on the dock continued to rankle. Of course she’d assumed Jordan was the incomparable Nathaniel Quinn, Adam merely his assistant. It told him everything he needed to know. Reinforced everything he already believed to be true.
He rubbed a palm across his face. Idiot. What he’d considered yesterday to be his saving grace had actually been an enormous miscalculation. Adam had practically handed Molly over to Jordan on a big silver platter.
The front door opened and Jordan exited. He trotted down the steps and toward the car with that loose, easy gait of his. Adam would’ve known, even without his satisfied grin, that his little chat with Molly had been a raging success.
The car door opened, and Jordan slipped inside, his knees hitting the dashboard in spite of the fact that the seat was all the way back.
Adam checked both ways and pulled out of the slot. “You sure didn’t waste any time.”
“Well, I’m only here two days. Aren’t you going to ask if she said yes?”
“I don’t have to ask. You’re practically levitating.”
“She actually blushed,” Jordan mused. “It was pretty cu
te too. You know, women in Manhattan don’t blush. More often, they make me blush.”
Adam gritted his teeth. “She’s a nice girl.” It came out like a warning.
“That’s why she appeals to me.” He gave Adam a sideways look. “And when have I ever been less than a gentleman?”
He hadn’t. But apparently Molly brought out Adam’s protective instincts. And now she thought Jordan was someone he wasn’t. Probably felt as though she knew him or something.
This wasn’t exactly fair to Jordan either, now that he thought about it. Molly would have high expectations where Nathaniel Quinn was concerned. She’d no doubt built him up in her mind as some kind of male paragon. That was a lot to live up to—even for Jordan. Adam should probably come clean.
“And don’t worry,” Jordan said. “I won’t let on about who you are. I’ve got your back, buddy.”
Adam winced. He hadn’t even thought of that. “What are you going to say you do for a living?”
Jordan lifted a shoulder. “I’ll tell her I’m a literary agent. It’s the truth, and there’s no reason she’d think you’re a client of mine. We already told her we’ve known each other since college.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” He knew he sounded a little bitter, but Jordan seemed to miss it. He’d never been particularly intuitive. Besides, he was obviously riding high on thoughts of Molly and their upcoming date.
twenty-one
The Crow’s Nest was perched on a hill overlooking Snug Harbor. The winding road up to the restaurant took a bit of time to navigate, but Molly was glad for the chance to work out some of her jitters before they were seated face-to-face.
Conversation had flowed easily so far. She’d managed to keep her rambling under control and hadn’t stuck her foot in her mouth yet. Of course, the night was still young.
As Jordan executed a hairpin curve Molly slid him a look. He sure looked handsome tonight in a nice pair of jeans and a black button-up. She’d chosen a turquoise sundress for the occasion—her favorite. It was fitted at the top and splayed out around the legs in a flattering manner. She’d curled her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders, and had taken the time to apply makeup. The appreciative look on Jordan’s face when she came down the stairs made it worth the extra effort.
She hadn’t mentioned the date to Levi, as he would undoubtedly disapprove. Fortunately he wasn’t around when they left. Besides, Jordan would only be a guest for one more night.
And he was Nathaniel Quinn. How was she supposed to turn that down?
They came around a curve and were treated to a beautiful harbor view.
“Wow,” he said. “It’s so beautiful up here. We don’t get views like this in the city. The mountains remind me a little of home though.”
“And where is home exactly?”
“Bozeman, Montana. I was raised on a ranch. My folks still run it.”
She thought of the cowboy story he’d written a few years ago. No wonder he’d been able to write it with such authenticity.
“How did a cowboy end up in the big city?”
He chuckled. “Career opportunities. Much as I love home, Bozeman is kind of limited in that area.”
She had to ask. It was a natural follow-up to his statement. “And what kind of career is it that you’re pursuing?”
“I’m a literary agent. Of course these days an agent could live practically anywhere, with the internet and all. But it makes sense to be where the big publishers are. More opportunities for meetings and networking. And I didn’t have anything tying me home other than my family.”
“Of course.” She was a little dismayed by how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. But what was he supposed to say? That he was a writer? The next question would inevitably be What do you write? Quickly followed by Are you published? and Would I know anything you’ve written?
She steered the conversation in a safer direction. “Are you close to your family?”
“Oh, yeah, we’re a close bunch. I have five siblings—all brothers.”
“You’re kidding.”
“My mom wishes I were. All that pregnancy and labor and not a single girl to dress up. But I say that in jest. She loved being a boy-mom. And believe me, she only had to look at us sideways to keep us in line.”
“Where are your brothers now? Did they move away too?”
“They’re all back home actually. Two of them work the ranch with Dad, and the other three followed other career paths. What about your family? I met your little sister. She checked me in.”
“Right, that’s Grace. Other than her there’s just my brother, Levi. Our parents passed away last year—a car accident.” Would she ever get used to saying it? She still hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of it. Or the achy feeling of regret.
“I’m so sorry. That must be very difficult for all of you.”
“It has been, but we’re doing all right. The inn was their dream, and bringing it to life has been a labor of love for us.”
“Do you enjoy it—running an inn?”
“Well, we haven’t been at it very long, but yes, I do. My degree was going to be in hospitality actually, so it’s a good fit.”
“Was going to be?”
“I dropped out before my last semester to come back and open the inn.”
He slid her a look. “That’s quite a sacrifice.”
She lifted a shoulder, feeling a little wistful about the internship she’d given up and her college friends, who seemed to be moving on without her.
“I’ll finish eventually. Right now I’m needed more at home. We’ll give the inn a good launch, two or three years of success, then we’ll sell it.”
They rounded the final curve, and he turned into the restaurant’s sloped parking lot. He helped her out of the rental car and escorted her inside.
The sun had gone behind the mountains, ushering in the golden hour and swathing the lake in shade. She never wanted to take the views for granted. She was halfway up the walk before she even realized Jordan still had her hand.
Nathaniel Quinn is holding my hand. She gave her head a shake at the wonder of it.
The restaurant was just as she remembered from her eighteenth birthday—the last time she’d been there. Log elements gave the place a rustic feel, while soft lighting and white tablecloths lent a certain elegance. The two levels of the restaurant offered guests abundant views through the wall of windows facing the lake.
The hostess seated them at a table for two on the lower level. After giving props to the view, they looked over the menu and chatted about all the appealing options. Jordan finally settled on the rib eye, and Molly was eager to try the fresh trout.
“Do you cook at all?” she asked once they set the menus aside.
“Sadly, no. Though my mom did try to teach all of us. I eat out a lot, I’m afraid.” He patted his flat stomach. “Which also means I have to work out a lot. What about you? Do you like to cook?”
“I can follow a recipe with the best of them, but it’s not my one true love or anything. That’s why we hired Miss Della. Now she can cook.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve already eaten my body weight in muffins.”
They were laughing when the server came to take their orders.
Once she slipped away, Jordan leaned forward, elbows braced on the table. “So . . . Adam showed me your well-stocked library. Let’s talk books.”
* * *
It was after eleven when headlights fanned across Adam’s darkened room. He leaned over the nightstand and pushed aside the curtain just in time to see headlights go out. It was Jordan’s rental, all right.
He felt a twinge of guilt for spying, but was it his fault his room faced the street?
The inn’s porch lights carried far enough that he could see his friend exit the car and come around to help Molly out. He frowned as he watched the two exchange smiles. Halfway up the walk she nudged him, laughing at something he said, then they disappeared beneath the porch roo
f.
He let the curtain fall. So the date had gone well then.
Adam had turned off his light earlier even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The last thing he wanted was Jordan coming by his room, emotionally intoxicated, sweeter than ever on Molly. And Adam knew he would be. Who could resist Molly Bennett?
He set his glasses on the nightstand and lay back against his pillows, still listening for their entry downstairs. When he’d moved into the place he’d been pleased that his room was practically soundproof, but that amenity was not working in his favor at the moment.
He couldn’t hear them down in the lobby at all. Were they still on the porch? What were they doing? How and where did one say good night to a date when staying beneath the same roof?
And why did he care so much?
She was his muse, he claimed in his own defense. Besides, he’d seen her first.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Could he be more childish? He adjusted his pillows, staring up at the dark ceiling.
The last few hours had been agonizingly slow as he imagined every moment of the date. He opened his laptop and tried to work on expanding his outline, but it was futile. He was too distracted by thoughts of Molly and Jordan. It only became more difficult as the night wore on. The restaurant closed at nine (yes, he checked), which was pretty much when the whole town rolled up the sidewalks.
That left only outdoor public spaces as possibilities. The park, the beach, or maybe some local version of inspiration point. He was sure Molly knew all the best spots and could give guided tours of them all.
He laced his hands over his abdomen. It was official. He had a massive crush on his muse. Which was most unfortunate since she seemed to have one on his best friend. At least Jordan was leaving in the morning.
Guilt pricked at him. Still, he couldn’t help but be relieved at the thought.
Of course, with texting and social media the world was much smaller than it used to be. They could easily keep in touch if they wanted—and he couldn’t help but think they would.
Lake Season Page 12
