by Lindsey Hart
“That lying little witch.”
“Hettie…”
“Well she did, lie to him I mean, from the second they met.”
“No, she didn’t. He made an assumption and she left it at that.”
“She still lied. Maybe if he knew-”
“No.” Maren shook her head emphatically. “There isn’t any point going over the past.”
“Why is he coming back then? We all know about the divorce. Chelsea moving in with that other man before it was even settled. It’s all out there, online, for anyone with eyes to read. Why would he come back here, where everyone knows who he is?”
“I have no idea,” Maren admitted.
“I’ll tell you why. You don’t get to be this old and not learn a thing or two about people. He’s looking for something. A sense of peace or that feeling he had here the first time. He’s been chasing it, probably ever since he was here. Once you’ve stayed at the Raven’s Gem, you remember it forever. People who leave here, they take a piece of Monterey with them.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Now drink your tea. It’s getting cold.”
Maren didn’t move. “But what does that have to do with needing a partner?”
Hettie smiled so slowly it was almost a little sinister. “Well, he obviously liked it the first time if he’s coming back, despite everything. Maybe he wants to stay. To get away to the only place that gave him a little peace.”
“I’m sure there are other places in the world.”
“He has money. The whole world knows his name. He came because he was exhausted the first time, five years ago. I could see it in his eyes, he was weary. Lonely in a way that you can only be when you’re surrounded by people all the time. People who always want something from you. And then he came to the Raven’s Gem and he met you. You were the one who never, ever asked for anything in return. Whether he knows it or not, he’s connected to you. Actually, he doesn’t know it, but we both know that’s the reason I would spit in Chelsea’s face if she ever showed back up here.”
Maren didn’t doubt for a second that Hettie meant what she said. She was as protective of Maren as her own grandmother had been, more so since Jane passed away and left Maren and the crumbling bed and breakfast alone with each other.
“So, you want me to what? Ask him?”
“Well, not like that, girl. Come on! You have assets. Beautiful, huge green eyes. Long hair the color of a sunset on the bay. A shapely body. You are a woman. Use it.”
“To seduce him? Wouldn’t that make me as bad as Chelsea? And no one likes red hair, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Hettie tittered softly, which seemed to Maren, completely inappropriate. “I’m not talking about leading him on like Chelsea did, ensnaring him and marrying him and running off with the next man who took her fancy and taking him for half his fortune. I’m talking about just using your natural beauty, both inside and out, to make him- care. Let him know how much Raven’s Gem means to you and your family. It’s all you have left of your grannie. Men love a damsel in distress.”
“Hettie!”
“I’m just saying, if he needs some persuasion. Don’t come right out and ask. Get to know him. Let him get to know you. Let him care a little so that he can see why the investment would be worth it and why it would mean so much.”
“But not deceive him.”
“No. You’re not capable of that, Maren. Thank god.”
“Yes. Thank goodness. I don’t even know how to get to know someone like that… it seems like a bad idea. I’m nearly thirty and I’ve been on all of three dates.” She didn’t mention the fumbling in the back seat of John Handerson’s car when they were sixteen or the one night stand she’d had with Ray McGovenor before he left town nearly eight years ago. God, I’m pathetic. Dusty. Who is thirty and has had sex like, twice in their lifetime?
“Just be friendly. You’re a nice girl, Maren. You have a lot of your grandmother in you. That’s why guests keep coming back year after year.”
“It’s because they like the house or Monterey.”
“It’s also because of you and your personality. You can be warm and charming when you want to be. You just have to learn how to let someone in.”
That’s easier said than done. Do you know how much it damages a person to be left by their mother and never hear from her again?
“Chelsea was my best friend. Obviously, I wasn’t enough for her to keep in contact after she left.”
Hettie snorted again, loudly. “I’ve said all I’m going to say about that girl. Trust me, Maren, you’re special. You’re more than worth getting to know. Let this guy in. Just a little. Show him even the briefest glimpse of your heart and he won’t say no. Let your guard down just a little, be friendly, compassionate. You’re not the only one who struggles with rejection and hurt and loneliness.”
Maren’s face heated. Okay, so maybe she does know. “Still, Hettie, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Like you said, everyone knows who he is.”
“He doesn’t have to live here to make an investment. All most people with money want is for their money to make more of it. He’s made a fortune investing. Start-up companies, stocks, doesn’t that say something?”
“Those are probably sure bets.”
“So is the Raven’s Gem. You both just have to believe. This is just a rough patch. You’ll get through it.”
Maren nodded slowly. She didn’t promise anything. She didn’t have to. Hettie knew exactly what that bed and breakfast meant to her. Everything. It was her entire world. It had always been her entire world. She’d do just about anything to keep it that way.
CHAPTER 3
Owen
It was funny, how some things never changed. Monterey was the same as Owen remembered it being. Quiet. Quaint. Beautiful. An endless blue sky over colorful houses. A place steeped in history and soaked in salt water breezes. It stirred his soul. Each breath he took felt like freedom.
The town was very much the same, so he was surprised to see that the Raven’s Gem had undergone a transformation. Chelsea had said nothing about a renovation. The woman who owned it, Maren, had been her best friend. Owen knew how that went. Chelsea had cut ties after she left. She never had been able to make friends and keep them. He should have taken heed long before he even married her, of what some people would term a toxic personality.
The shape of the house itself was still the same. The sprawling bed and breakfast, a little too Victorian for his taste, stood three stories tall. Little juts and peaks rose from the lofts. A round turret rose from the ground up, curving towards the sky. The roofline was at odd angles, the house as well. A huge wrap around porch made the house seem even larger.
Gone were the peeling boards, the broken porch railing, the missing, peeling, worn shingles. In their place were new windows, fresh cedar shakes and blonde cedar trim and dark blue siding that didn’t exactly look like vinyl. It was somehow classier than that. Even the porch looked new, though the broken railing spindles could have just been replaced and the whole thing restained.
Owen was good at many things, but renovations and building had never been his forte. He couldn’t say, just by looking at it, how intensive the overhaul had been.
He realized he was standing on the street, the handle of his rolling suitcase clenched tightly in his left palm, gawking at the building. Just behind it lay a strip of beach and the cool blue waters that had nearly taken his life.
He repressed a shudder. Maybe this was a mistake. He almost turned around and went back to his car, but something stopped him. Something pushed him forward, an unseen force that seemed to come from both inside and outside of himself.
The driveway with the parking stalls just off the street was freshly graveled with dark grey rock. He had a devil of a time pulling his heavy suitcase through it and was relieved when he finally stepped onto the winding concrete path that led to the front steps. The sidewalk parted the sea of vibrant green grass and flow
ers edged in every space possible. There were also a few freestanding beds carved out of the lawn.
The whole thing was picturesque. Exactly as a bed and breakfast should be. Owen tried hard to recall what he felt walking up to the Raven’s Gem the first time, but he couldn’t. It had been five years ago and there was too much history between that time and the present to recapture the same feeling of hope and serenity he was sure washed over him then.
He was about to take the first wooden step of the porch, definitely new wood, he realized up close, when the front door opened and Maren Hartwick, owner of the sprawling B&B stepped out.
Owen halted, his body frozen, his foot suspended in mid-air. He finally realized, after a long few seconds, that he was gawking at her and placed his foot down. He couldn’t help it. Women like Maren were meant to be stared at.
Long red hair, actual red, not orange or copper, hung nearly to her waist. Her eyes were a strange grey, almost devoid of color, mysterious, otherworldly. Her eyebrows and lashes matched her hair, almost an exact shade, making it obvious that Maren’s color was the product of genetics and not some shade from a box or an afternoon spent at the salon. Her lips were full and the most beautiful shade of coral. Her face shape was dainty, almost pixie-like. She had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, alabaster skin that needed absolutely no makeup to be flawless. Set off with all that blazing hair, she looked absolutely exotic.
“Hello!” Maren smiled freely, revealing a set of pearly whites. Owen noticed that her front two teeth were just the slightest bit crooked, but somehow even that was charming. “I’m so glad that you made it. How was the drive?” Those grey eyes flicked to his sports car, parked behind him.
“Fine, thank you.” Owen found his throat suddenly dry. He wished he’d thought to bring a drink with him, a bottle of water or something. He’d driven like a man possessed, intent on arriving. He’d made only one stop, for gas and that was it. He realized that he was starving and that a background headache was forming behind his eyes.
Maren treaded softly over the porch. She wore a green maxi dress, the straps made up of little woven ropes. It plunged low in front but not nearly low enough to be indecent. It outlined full breasts. He could just make out the peaks of her nipples and glanced down to his suitcase, a slow burn spreading through blood that hadn’t felt the joy of being awakened in a long, long time. When she turned slightly he could see that the back of the dress dipped low, revealing an expanse of creamy skin. He could make out her shoulder blades and the little bumps of her backbone. She was tall, just shorter than he was by a couple inches, yet she had all the required curves that height often robbed.
She smiled at him as she stepped down the stairs. The dress billowed around her, gauzy, almost fairy-like. The muscles in her sleek arms flexed as she reached down, and he realized she was going to take his suitcase.
“I can do it. It’s not a problem,” he pushed out. He pulled in a long breath, trying to fill lungs that squeezed just a little too tight in his chest.
“Alright.” Maren straightened and tucked her hand back at her side. She was standing not more than a couple inches from him and the smell of salt, fresh air and cloudless skies clung to her hair.
Probably her skin as well. Would she taste like the sea? Owen gave himself a shake. This was not about Maren. Though why he’d never noticed her before, as a woman, he couldn’t say. He supposed he was too taken with Chelsea, with her luxurious curves, her mysterious blue eyes and long blonde hair. He didn’t know a man who wasn’t instantly captivated by Chelsea’s exotic beauty. It hit like a sucker punch. It wasn’t really his fault that he’d been so smitten. He’d watched other men react the exact same way, as though she had an ability to cast a spell over them.
Before feelings of regret, anger and bitterness could take over, he swallowed hard and stepped up, following Maren as she moved. Was it his imagination or did her sweet, alluring scent trail in her wake?
She led the way inside the house, which hadn’t changed at all. It looked much like it had when it was built, over a century before, he imagined. The furniture was slightly more modern, the kitchen updated. He supposed it hadn’t been built with electricity or running water either and that those were added later, but what did he truly know about that?
“Just set your suitcase there by the door. I can bring it up for you later. You have your choice of rooms as I have no other guests arriving until after you’re booked to leave.” Maren smiled softly and it was completely captivating. Owen couldn’t pull his eyes away from her face. The flush of health and outdoor living bloomed on her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“Now, how about a water? Or I have tea or coffee. I also just bought an expresso machine. I haven’t used it much, but I’m sure I could figure it out if you’d like something a little more complicated.”
“No- uh- water and black coffee, if it’s not too much trouble, would be just fine.”
“Perfect. Can I offer you something to eat?” Maren’s dainty hands clasped in front of her waist. Her eyes twinkled like she actually enjoyed serving other people. It took him a second to remember that she owned the bed and breakfast. Of course, she enjoyed serving. It was her job. Though for her, it seemed to be more than that. The way she was looking at him, it made him feel, for the first time in a long time, that he truly mattered.
Which wreaked havoc on his insides. His stomach curled up on itself, like some inner fist was grabbing and twisting. His chest imploded, and he felt, oddly enough, the soft tendrils of sorrow creeping over him.
“Yes, thanks,” he ground out, his voice oddly stiff.
“I can make you a sandwich. I have fruit. Or a salad? Or soup? I should just get you the menu…”
“No, that’s alright. Whatever you prefer. Whatever is the least trouble.”
Maren laughed softly, a musical sound, hypnotizing, like the gentle lapping of waves over the beach. The sound flowed over him like the sweetest caress, a touch he hadn’t known he’d been missing.
“Alright. I can do that. Would you like to eat in the kitchen or the dining room? Or maybe outside? It’s a beautiful day. I have the front porch if you want to face the street, or the back, if you’d like to look out over the water?”
“You have too many choices,” Owen ground out irritably. Maren’s face fell. Her smile died away and he wanted to punch himself. “I’m sorry- I- I’m not the best of company at the moment. The drive was long and I haven’t slept much and my head is pounding.”
“Oh.” Maren’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. He noticed the way her hands twisted, as though she suddenly wasn’t sure whether to be kind or not. He wished desperately that he could take back what he’d said.
“I… it hasn’t been an easy year,” Owen admitted. The words flowed out of him after that, for some reason, as though he could talk to and trust Maren. Chelsea had once been her best friend after all. “Chelsea was… it was difficult. The divorce took a lot out of me. I’m not normally rude- I- I apologize.”
Maren blinked. It took a moment, but her smile was back, if a little forced. “That’s alright. Can I ask you something though, Owen? A question that I’m sure the entire town will be asking by the time today is over, if you’re spotted?”
Small towns just work that way. I came here, knowing full well what it could mean, knowing that people would talk. He was annoyed, all the same. I came here for what? Escape? Absolution? Closure? He still couldn’t exactly answer that question. Whatever degree of an ending he’d hoped to find, a way to move on, suddenly felt far away and elusive.
“You want to know why I came back? I’m sure it doesn’t make sense since this was the place where it all started. People probably think it’s more painful than anything. They’re right. Just being back here- it brings it all back. I was- lost- and I… it somehow made sense, at the time, that if I came back here, maybe I could just finally put it behind me and move forward.”
Maren nodded slowly, as if his jumbled thoughts made a
ll the sense in the world. He was unprepared for the way she stepped forward, confident. He froze, unable to keep her at bay. All he had to do was say the word and he sensed she would have retreated.
Instead, suddenly she was pressed up against him, her arms sliding around his shoulders, her soft curves melding into his body, sparking the most masculine of biological responses. His blood surged, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. His cock stiffened painfully, and he closed his eyes, praying she wouldn’t feel it through his jeans.
The hug was brief, but even after she pulled away, her touch lingered. Her delicate scent stayed with him, igniting his senses. His body ached, ached to have her back there, close to him, alive and warm in his arms. He hadn’t made a move to hug her back, but just the slightest touch, the connection of human contact, was a balm to his tattered heart.
“Whatever reason you’ve come, I’m glad you’re here. Welcome back to the Raven’s Gem, Owen. Now, since I spent most of the time cleaning and forgot about lunch, I’m also starved. How about I make us sandwiches and lemonade and we go down to the beach? It’s a shame to waste such a beautiful day inside.”
Say no. Keep her away. Even if she’s just being friendly, this is the last thing I need. Her. Another woman. Here. It’s too much. Say no.
“Yes.” He was surprised at the strength of his voice, at his easy capitulation. “That would be nice.” He was even more astounded, that he actually meant it.
CHAPTER 4
Maren
Some moments in life were so perfect they banished all the bad for just a short while. Sitting on a blue and white striped cotton blanket, eating an egg salad sandwich mixed with just the right amount of mustard and pepper, listening to the gentle waves lapping and withdrawing against the blonde, sandy shore, Maren was content.
She almost forgot about why she was sitting down there with her guest, instead of up at the house puttering around like she normally would have been. She just about forgot that creditors called her every other day and that her loan was way past due.
