ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13)

by Jane Keeler

  “I bet you get bored of hearing about hikers, huh?” he asked, somewhat pointedly.

  She flushed. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s always the same story. I’ve lived here my whole life.”

  He chuckled, teasingly. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t complaining. I get that it’s probably not the most exciting thing in the world for you. How many times have you done the trail?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Started going when I was a kid, with my Dad.”

  “Oh yeah? He still around?”

  “He’s one of the trail guides. He’ll be staying over at the peak with some campers tonight.”

  “Oh really? Maybe I’ll pass him on the way up tomorrow.”

  “Maybe,” she smiled. She was starting to warm up to this Branson.

  “So what else are you interested in, Sydney?” he asked.

  She smiled and shrugged, and started to tell him about the music she listened to, and heading out into the next town over when she had a night off to blow off steam, and what kind of movies she liked to watch. To her surprise, they seemed to like all of the same kinds of things.

  They were chatting for the whole of the rest of her shift, so much so that she only noticed it was getting late when Hank and Melvin got up to leave. They had been laughing and smiling together so much that her jaw ached. He had even bought her a drink when he noticed the beer she had sneaked under the counter, so she could enjoy another with him in peace.

  “I guess it’s just about time for closing up,” she said reluctantly, glancing at the clock on the wall. Truth be told, it was already late.

  “That’s a shame,” he said, smiling. He leaned across the bar to briefly touch her hand where it rested on one side of the counter. “I had a great time tonight. Thanks for making a stranger feel welcome.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “It’s nice to be able to talk to someone new. A lot of the hikers that come through here are the strong, silent type.”

  He eased his groaning backpack up onto his shoulders, chuckling. “Well, at least I’m the first half of that,” he said, indicating the heavy bag. “It was nice to meet you, Syd.”

  “You too, Branson,” she said, really meaning it. She waited for him to head out of the door while she cleared up the empty glasses, then cashed up the register and turned out the lights.

  Alone in the dark bar, she sighed. It really was a shame that the end of the night had come so soon. In truth it had been a long time since she had spoken to someone who could make her laugh and get along with her so easily like that. Now he was heading up the mountain in the morning, and she would never see him again.

  She touched the place where his hand had been on hers, thinking she could almost feel some of the leftover heat. His hand had been warm, and somehow reliable. She felt like he was the kind of man that could really be there for you, and support you no matter what. She sighed once more. That was the kind of man she would like to know better. It was sad to think that he was already gone, out of her life for good. Most people didn’t come to do the trail twice, at least not with a good year or so in-between. That was the last she would see of Branson, and the thought was enough to make her pensive for her short walk home before she made it into bed.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday night was a little busier, something that she was always thankful for. Weekend hikers would go up on Friday night and then come back to town Saturday, or else do the trail in the daytime and be back down here for the evening. That meant there was always a little swell in the number of customers coming for a drink, and the locals came to relax too. Besides Hank and Melvin, the hotel owners, a couple more people who worked in hiking stores, and most of the guides who weren’t up on the mountain came to sit at the tables in Flannigans.

  It was almost starting to get full when she looked up and saw Branson at the bar. He must have come in when she was serving someone else, but she was so surprised to see him that she almost jumped. She rushed over to him quickly, full of questions.

  “Branson, you stayed?” she asked, grabbing a glass to serve him.

  “Yeah, I figured I would give it a few more days,” he said, smiling. He was dressed less like a hiker now – a dark green jumper and jeans, rather than the typical overnight gear. He looked good, even from the portion that she could see over the bar.

  “You don’t have work until Monday?” she guessed, handing over the beer.

  “Something like that,” he nodded. “I don’t know, I was thinking about staying maybe a little longer, if I can manage it.”

  While she did have to wonder what on earth he saw in this boring little town, she was just happy to see him again. Her attention was called by someone at the other end of the bar and she had to go serve them, but now she knew he was here, she was in a rush to get back and talk again.

  She managed to steal a few bits and pieces of conversation with him in between taking orders, finding out what he thought of the trail. He said he enjoyed it, and that it was just nice to be somewhere peaceful for a change. She asked where he was from, and he mentioned a big city a couple of hours’ drive away. Her eyes lit up with the thought of it. She dreamed of living somewhere so exciting.

  Finally, the customers in the bar started to peel away, most of them either wanting to get a good night’s sleep or growing tired of drinking alone in an unfamiliar town. At last they were able to get some real conversation. For the last hour or so they talked almost uninterrupted, Branson telling her a few things about his city life and how different it was to here. She hung on his every word.

  “You don’t know how much of a good thing you have here,” he concluded, looking around at the bar as if it represented the whole town.

  “I don’t know about that,” she laughed. “It’s not such an exciting or glamorous place to live.”

  He shook his head. “No, that’s the point,” he said. “There’s no pressure here. You can just enjoy the quiet. That’s what I like.”

  “Try living here for twenty years and then let me know if you still love it,” she said wryly.

  He chuckled. “Fair point. I guess I can see how it could get a little boring after a while.”

  “More than boring,” she argued, shaking her head. “Dull. Lifeless. I’m trapped here like I’m in a cage. There’s never anything to do, never anything new going on. It’s just the hiking season one day after another, with no escape.”

  He gave a low whistle. “You hate it here that much, huh?”

  She sighed, and shrugged. “I just always thought I would find some way out. Go somewhere, be something. I didn’t figure I’d be back here after school and working in the one old bar that’s been here since I was a kid.”

  “You’re still young,” he said reassuringly. “You have a whole future ahead of you. Just give it a little more time. I’m sure things will work out.”

  “I guess I don’t have a whole lot of choice,” she replied.

  “Don’t worry, Syd,” he said. “Change is always just around the corner, waiting. You just have to walk over there and get it.”

  She laughed. It sounded a little like a motivational speech. “You should talk for a living,” she said, shaking her head.

  He laughed too, but it was accompanied by the sound of empty glasses hitting the bar. Some of the regulars were heading out, and Sydney realized belatedly that it was closing time again. She started to clear up a little, recognizing that however much fun she was having, she still needed to do her job.

  He waited a moment before leaving, hands in his pockets as he stood by the door while she moved chairs and tidied up. “Hey, I was wondering if you had anything by that band you were talking about before?” he asked.

  “Oh, the ones from the next town? Sure, I have one of their demo CDs,” she said, opening the cash register so she wouldn’t be late cashing up.

  “Do you think I could borrow it?” he asked. “You have great taste in music, so I’d like to give them a try.”

  She nodded. “Of cou
rse! I have to lock up here, though.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “That is, if it isn’t too weird for the new guy in town to walk you home and get a CD off you.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “Just let me finish up here.”

  The night air was cool, but not chilly, allowing them to walk in comfort. It was strange to find herself next to him instead of leaning over the bar, serving him. They talked quietly for the short distance back to her place, him carrying a coat in one hand and her clutching her handbag. When they arrived at her house he was a gentleman and waited outside while she fetched the CD.

  “You live with your parents still?” he asked as she met him outside again.

  She blushed. “Yeah, my Dad. It didn’t seem like there was any point in wasting money on rent if we’re living in the same street anyway.”

  “I’m not judging,” he said quickly. “It makes perfect sense. Sometimes I wish I lived with my parents for longer. I was eighteen when I left. It might have been nice to have some support for a little longer.”

  “You didn’t go back after college?” she guessed.

  “Something like that,” he replied, evasively, but she shrugged it off. His business was his business.

  “Well, I hope you like the CD. Let me know what you think,” she said, handing it over.

  “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a good job the hotel hasn’t updated since the nineties, or I wouldn’t have anywhere to play it.”

  “You didn’t bring your car?” she asked.

  “No,” he shrugged. That was normal enough. Plenty of hikers would catch the bus in to the far end of town so that they didn’t have to worry about parking or storing their cars while they were on the mountain.

  Over the next couple of days they spoke every night, laughing away the hours of the evening over a couple of drinks. They talked about anything and everything, with no restrictions. Sydney found herself recounting her full life story, and Branson told her about how much he liked the music on the CD. He returned it to her on Sunday night, saying he was going to have to get a copy for himself.

  By the time Monday came around, Sydney was feeling excited to see him again, hardly able to wait for her shift to start. She only opened Flannigans at 4pm, enough time to set everything up and accept the hikers who checked in for 3.30pm at the hotel, before the regulars started to arrive after work. Heading behind the bar every day was a bore, not having any time off to enjoy herself, but she needed the money if she was ever going to get out of this town. Besides, it was no longer a hardship. She had Branson to look forward to.

  She found herself dressing up and paying careful attention to her make-up, changing something three or four times before she finally considered herself decent enough to leave the house. She had never wanted to spend so much time getting ready for work before. She wanted to look her best for Branson. He was handsome, funny, strong – and not from around here. For the moment, she was trying not to think about what would happen when he left.

  They were enjoying a quiet talk in the almost empty bar when a faint ringing sound began. Branson groaned and started digging around in his coat pocket, fishing out an odd-looking phone which was emitting the noise. He gave Sydney an apologetic look, got down from his chair, and answered the call while walking towards the door.

  “Hi. Yeah. Seriously? … So you need me back now?” he sighed, pausing before he had even made it outside. “It can’t wait a couple more days? … Fine. Fine, I’ll leave in half an hour. I just need to settle up with my room. See you then.”

  He shut off the phone and stood still for a moment, running a hand back through his well-kept hair. Finally, he turned and headed back to the bar, giving her a sorry expression.

  “That was work,” he said.

  She nodded, her mouth dry. “You have to get back,” she said, a little too quickly, her voice sounding a little too strained.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve really had a good time here. I wanted to stay a little longer.”

  “Don’t apologize on my account,” she said, though she felt a burning sensation in the back of her throat. She didn’t want him to go.

  “I’m serious,” he said, and sighed, moving closer and leaning over the bar so that only she could hear him. “I want you to know that I stayed a little longer because I enjoyed spending time with you. I really wish we had more time to get to know each other better.”

  She nodded, looking down, surprised to find that she was having to blink back tears. “We could email,” she said. It was only her rational mind that held her back from screaming at him to take her when he left.

  “Of course,” he said, grabbing a paper napkin from the bar and pulling a pen out of one of his coat pockets. “Write your address down for me.”

  She wrote it quickly, the soft material threatening to tear under the point of the pen. “It would be nice to hear from you again,” she said, handing it over.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me,” he promised. He hesitated for a moment, and then, looking like he had decided to throw caution to the wind, he leaned further over the bar quickly to plant a kiss on her cheek.

  He pulled back, but she reached out for his shirt collar and drew him back. She kissed him on the lips, and though it was brief, they both felt the spark that lingered between them.

  For a second he looked pained, as though he could not decide what to do, but finally he grabbed up his coat and waved the napkin in the air. “I’ll email,” he promised again, heading out the door.

  She wiped her eyes on another napkin, sniffing and trying not to lose it. It was stupid, to be upset about someone you had only known for a few days. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been special. How many other people had she made a real connection with since she started working at this bar? How many people had she connected like that with in her whole life?

  It was around 15 minutes later that she, along with Hank who was sitting in the corner on his own, heard the sound of a helicopter outside. They both glanced at each other, then rushed to the door. A helicopter usually meant that someone had run into trouble on the mountain. She thought of her father and whispered a quick prayer that it was not for him.

  The helicopter that had landed out at the end of the road was not a medical or rescue copter, however. It was sleek black, expensive-looking, and emblazoned with a name on the side – “Raine Industries”. Sydney stared as a small group of people descended from one of the doors – two men in business suits and a woman in a sharp black skirt and stilettos.

  “Mr Raine!” the woman shouted, waving a tablet in the air in the direction of the hotel. Sydney turned to see Branson heading towards them, smartened up in a suit of his own and carrying his rucksack. He nodded a greeting and met the group before the end of the road, starting to quietly confer with them.

  “That his helicopter?” Hank asked in surprise.

  Sydney could only shake her head in shock. “I… I don’t know,” she said, watching him move towards it. He had taken the tablet and started tapping on it as he moved, while the three people talked rapidly to him. He nodded occasionally, handing the rucksack to one of the men who quickly carried it on board the helicopter. Before a couple of minutes were up they were all loaded in, and the rotors whirred into life again. Then it was lifting up into the air and gone, all before Sydney could gather the presence of mind to close her gaping mouth.

  Chapter 3

  Sydney was stunned. She could barely understand what she had seen. Shouting over her shoulder to Hank to watch the bar, she did the only thing she could think of – she headed into the hotel to talk to Marge, the elderly receptionist who took care of all of the guests on weekdays.

  “Marge, who was that who just left?” she asked quickly, barely stopping to catch her breath.

  Marge looked up at her in surprise. “Oh, dear, that was one of our guests,” she said slowly, not quite comprehending the question.

  “Yes, but what was his name?” Sydney demanded
impatiently.

  “Oh, I believe it was… let me check in the guest book now… yes, here it is: Branson Raine,” Marge replied.

  Sydney stared at her, unsure of what to make of this piece of information. So the helicopter was, almost undeniably, his own. But just who the hell could he be, to have a helicopter sweep in and pick him up like that? She walked back to Flannigans half in shock, shaking her head over and over in confusion.

  “Well?” Hank asked as she came back into the bar. He had been waiting for her, clearly excited about the latest gossip.

  “I… I still don’t know,” Sydney stammered, making her way behind the counter. “Marge says his name is Branson Raine.”

  “Same as on the helicopter,” Hank pronounced with satisfaction.

  Sydney nodded, sinking down onto a chair to try to process what was going on. The rest of the evening dragged on, interminably slow. She could not wait to get out and head home, and try to find out exactly who she had been falling for this whole weekend.

  When she was finally at home, she grabbed her laptop without so much as greeting her father and started searching. It did not take long. Just typing in his name brought up pages and pages of results. She felt stupid, utterly stupid. Maybe if she was from the city she might have recognized him. It seemed that Branson Raine was in fact a businessman, and a good one at that – even though he was just twenty-eight, he was a billionaire. It seemed he had been making the papers consistently over the past few years due to his success and his age – and his good looks.

  She felt sick as she scrolled through the image results. There were photographs of him at charity events and business balls, often on the arm of a glamorous model type. He wore suits worth hundreds of dollars and drove supercars. Who was this man? This was not the person she had been talking to for the past few days. This was not the man she had just kissed.

  She felt betrayed. She remembered all of the things she had told him about her life, her feelings. How he must have been laughing at her once he got back to the hotel! He never once revealed anything about himself, about his real life. He had let her believe he was just a normal guy who had taken some time off work to go hiking. How could he have kept all of this quiet from her?