Here to Stay (Where Love Begins Book #2)

by Melissa Tagg

  “Just keep going,” Blake called. “You’re doing great.”

  “Tell me why I’m doing this again?”

  “Because you trust your good friend Blake.”

  “Why is my good friend Blake talking in third person?”

  “Why is my good friend Autumn not climbing?”

  She tore her gaze away from the ground and kept climbing. A cold wind teased her cheeks, and the metal rungs chilled her fingers. But the exertion of the climb, the nervous fear burning through her, countered the cold.

  And the knowledge of Blake climbing below her provided just enough security to keep her moving. Finally she reached the top of the ladder and pulled herself over the final step and onto the metal landing. The ladder jerked with her movement. Seconds later, Blake’s form hauled over beside her.

  “See? Easy-peasy.”

  Autumn huddled against the tower while Blake plopped down, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the landing, hands on the lowest bar of the railing encasing them. Finally Autumn moved from her crouched position to sit, legs crossed, and braved a look.

  Though dusk shadowed the sky, the lights of the festival glowed from the center of town. Several blocks of dotted color and movement. And then off to the west, moonlight glittered against the lake. Stars peeked like distant pearls poking through the sky’s blue-gray canvas.

  The view was startling, perfect.

  Blake dropped his arms from the railing, a satisfied smile stretching his cheeks.

  This was perfect.

  Almost enough to blot out the cold heaving past the fabric of her coat and clothes. Almost. She scooted forward, let one leg dangle, then the other, and huddled next to Blake. Eyes still on the landscape, he pulled her hand through his arm.

  At least the cold was good for something.

  They needed to get back.

  But the festival had never seemed less important than in these past fifteen minutes. With Autumn tucked at his side, Blake could have stayed up there forever. Not the same as flying a plane, perhaps, but awfully close. The sky. The freedom. The peace.

  The only thing blocking him from full contentedness—the remembrance of why he’d brought Autumn here. To tell her about Dominic. To spill the truth in a kinder way than a letter of rejection ever would. To break it gently.

  But the soft sigh Autumn released into the breeze held him back. She was so . . . happy.

  I don’t think I can do it to her, God.

  “Hey, Red—”

  “Do you think—” She spoke simultaneously, breaking off just as he did, her hand still locked around his arm.

  “You go first.” Anything to put off the disappointment he dreaded.

  “I was just going to ask, do you think Ryan and Ava ever came up here?”

  “Oh, I know it.” The landing jiggled under his laughter. “Once, Shawn, Tim, and I actually followed them here during spring break. As soon as they made it up, we started catcalling and whistling.”

  “Awfully mature of you.”

  “Dude, I was like nineteen at the time, and my brother was neck-deep in a forbidden romance. Of course I was going to heckle him.”

  “Forbidden, huh.”

  “Hey, don’t tell me your mother liked the idea any more than my parents. It was a Montague-Capulet situation if there ever was one.”

  “You mentioned Shawn. He’s the one who gave you the black eye, yeah?”

  “You heard.”

  “It’s Whisper Shore. Gossip is like oxygen around here.”

  “True.” And yet, five years away had leached any disdain for the place right out of him. Maybe because for every harsh memory there were a hundred good ones. His first flying lesson with Ike. Summers marked by camping trips and games of pickup basketball. He and Ryan, never, ever bored.

  And sitting with Autumn Kingsley atop the water tower. She was probably chilled to the bone, and yet she hadn’t complained.

  Either tell her or get back to the festival.

  Can’t do it. Not here. Not now, when everything felt so right. He’d tell her tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday, when the festival was over.

  Maybe it wouldn’t even matter to her as much as he thought. Maybe in her excitement for France, she’d shrug it off. Maybe.

  He didn’t like the idea, though.

  The breeze played with her hair, stray strands tickling his cheeks. “Red, we should probably get back. The tree lighting and all that.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, another sigh feathering from her. And on impulse, he kissed her forehead. Grinning at her look of surprise, he pushed past his reluctance and scooted toward the ladder. “Follow me?”

  She nodded.

  No conversation on the way down. Just the clinking of their shoes against the metal rungs, the barest whispers of distant festival noise. Within minutes his feet sank into a blanket of snow, followed by Autumn’s landing seconds later.

  She turned from the ladder to look up at him. “Thanks.”

  “For forcing you to brave your fear of heights?”

  “For reminding me how pretty Whisper Shore is.”

  Whisper Shore and something, someone, else.

  And despite the choir of voices clamoring in the back of his head, belting out reminders that she’d be gone soon, that this friendship-turned-something couldn’t possibly have a happy ending, he couldn’t help what he did next.

  He pulled her to him, lowered his head, and kissed her. Softly at first, but then with a surprise desperation that pulsed through him. And then she was kissing him back, her arms pinned to his chest as his tightened around her.

  So maybe last night in the inn’s kitchen hadn’t been a fluke.

  Her hands slid behind his neck, and in those seconds, completely lost in the feel of her, he could almost forget . . .

  She’s leaving.

  You’re staying.

  With one palm holding her to him, the other combed through her hair as he kissed her again. Her lips, then her cheeks, her nose. “Stay . . .”

  He whispered the word before realizing what he’d said. Or that he’d said it aloud. But as soon as it slipped from his lips, it just hovered there, the moment frozen.

  Autumn blinked, breaking away but still so close he could feel her breath. “What?”

  “Stay here. Don’t go to France.”

  She lowered from her tiptoes, surprise—maybe closer to shock—drifting over her face. The cold tried to squeeze between them, but the warmth of her, the lingering feel of those sizzling kisses still heated through him.

  And the burning request that he hadn’t meant to make.

  But that everything in him begged an answer for. Not just an answer. A yes.

  “Stay, Red. Please.”

  17

  Was it possible for one night to be both the best and most confusing Autumn had ever had?

  Hand on the inn’s front door handle, she glanced over her shoulder to see Blake’s Wrangler motoring down the lane. Desperate to draw out their few minutes closed into the small space of his vehicle, she’d asked him to drive her out to the inn so she could pick up her car before returning to the festival. She’d left it at the inn earlier, having caught a ride to town with Ava.

  It had been a flimsy excuse. As if five extra minutes, or ten, could help her make sense of her battling desires.

  Autumn pulled the door open and stepped into the warmth of the inn. She closed the door behind her, then leaned with her back against it, biting her lip, remembering . . .

  “Stay, Red. Please.”

  “Are you serious?”

  As if sensing the import of this moment, the breeze had stilled, allowing her question to idle between them.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

  She hadn’t been able to look away, focus captured by the earnest glimmer in his eyes. She had the sudden urge to trail her fingers across his shadowed cheeks and jaw. And the realization of her longing caused her own flush to deepen. At least, in the dim of dusk, he couldn’t s
ee it.

  But had he seen the trail of her emotion, its path dividing so many directions she didn’t know which to follow? A piece of her longed to swoon in the romance of the moonlit night. Another piece moaned at the timing of it all. And then there was the piece that only wanted to kiss him again.

  “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  His words had been as soft as the snowfall salting the air around them. A snowflake landed and caught in his eyelashes.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Wasn’t fair to ask you.”

  Maybe not. But hadn’t she lain awake each night for the past week wondering what it’d be like if she weren’t going to France alone? If a very specific someone were to show up in Paris to take in all the sights and experiences and adventures with her?

  But each night, she’d battled to silence her imagination. Because Blake had made it clear he had returned to Whisper Shore to stay.

  His hold on her had eventually loosened, and what had been only a sliver between them widened into a gap. “I should take it back.” He turned. “Forget I—”

  And then instinct had taken over. She stumbled around him, hurrying to face him once more. “No, don’t take it back.”

  “Don’t?”

  “Don’t. Let me . . . let me think, all right?”

  “Red—”

  “Just don’t take it back.”

  He swallowed, nodded, and held her gaze for another second until his lips spread into a slow smile. “So I kiss that good, do I?”

  And then she’d thrown her glove at him. He’d caught it with one hand, and minutes later they were headed to the inn, the atmosphere between them crackling with tension.

  “You all right, Miss Kingsley?”

  Jamie’s voice pulled her back to the present, hand still on the door handle behind her and the inn’s heat layering over the warmth of her winter coat. Her college-student deskman had been working extra shifts now that he was on Christmas break.

  “I’m fine. Just stopped by to pick up my car. Thought I’d check on you too.”

  Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Check on me?”

  Oh, the kid had no idea. A playful laugh escaped from her. “Jamie, it’s time I let you in on the secret. I check on you most nights.”

  His eyes widened.

  “It’s important to me that you get a little sleep each shift. Don’t want you falling asleep on your way to class.”

  She watched his jaw go slack and his cheeks turn pink. The guy had to be a heartbreaker at college. “I am sooo sorry. You can dock my pay.”

  “No way.”

  “But you know I sleep when—”

  He broke off, and they both turned at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, along with the thump of luggage banging against each step. Huh, she’d thought most, if not all, of their guests were still at the festival.

  When the guest came into sight, she froze. Dominic Laurent . . . looking for all intents and purposes as if he planned to check out.

  But she hadn’t had a chance to follow up with him after the presentation. Whoa. Had that been just today? Yes, she’d woken up in the hospital this morning, given a surprise presentation to Dominic around lunchtime, spent hours at the square . . . then the water tower . . . and Blake.

  Blake and his request.

  “Stay.”

  “Dom, are you . . . going somewhere?”

  He stopped at the front desk. “Yes, I have a red-eye flight to catch. I’d like to check out.” He turned his focus to Jamie, as if dismissing her.

  But . . . it didn’t make sense. She’d asked him today if he planned to go to the festival. He’d given an offhanded “yes.” Of course, then he’d run off for some other meeting . . .

  What other meeting would he have had in Whisper Shore?

  And for heaven’s sake, why was he checking out now?

  “I thought you were going to the festival. The tree lighting should be starting in about fifteen minutes. I have to hurry back myself. I could give you a ride, and—”

  He slapped his room key on the counter and turned to her. “Thank you for the offer, but as I said, I have a flight to catch.”

  Maybe he planned to follow up with her by phone. Or e-mail. Yes, maybe that was it.

  “Well, I truly appreciate the time you gave me today.”

  “Oh, speaking of that.” He reached around to the leather computer bag hanging over one shoulder and pulled out the spiral-bound packet she’d given him today, the one Harry had put together. “I might as well give this to you now.”

  He wasn’t taking it? “Oh, but it’s yours to—”

  His sigh broke in. “Miss Kingsley, I planned to have my secretary contact you, but, well, since you’re here it may be best just to tell you. Laurent Lodging is not interested in your inn.”

  All the warmth, all the giddy hope brimming in her from earlier in the evening, now fizzled. “Not interested in your inn.”

  “I know we need a few repairs, and the financial statements don’t look wonderful but—”

  He plopped the packet on the counter. “You don’t seem to understand. I didn’t come to Michigan to see your inn.” He spoke slowly, as if giving her time to swallow and digest each word. “I came to look into the Hunziker Hotel. We’ve been considering a Great Lakes location for some time now and that property seemed promising.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh.

  The Hunziker Hotel. He’d never had any designs on the Kingsley Inn.

  “Although, if it makes you feel any better, it’s looking unlikely that I do any future business with that hotel. Not after the way Blake Hunziker treated me today.”

  Her breath seized. Blake? Today? No, he’d been at the hospital all day today, hadn’t he?

  “One minute he was giving me a tour. The next, he was hurling insults.”

  Autumn barely heard the last part, her mental wheels stuck and skidding on the first. “He gave you a tour?”

  “He did, yes.”

  And the truth of it came barreling in. “So he knew . . . he knew you never intended to invest in my inn.”

  Dominic nodded slowly. “That would seem to be the case.”

  He knew . . . hadn’t said a word. Even when she’d told him all about today’s presentation while they drove back from the tower.

  The scent of the potpourri on the front desk, or maybe the overbearing spice of Dominic Laurent’s cologne, assaulted her senses. And the heat she’d felt earlier turned to an icy chill.

  “Miss Kingsley?” Jamie’s voice.

  But she couldn’t answer him. Because any attempt would spill the agony pooling inside her.

  Laurent turned away from her. “I’d like to check out, please.”

  And she took the opportunity to make her escape.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  Tim Jakes met Blake seconds after he parked his car and slid from the front seat.

  In the hour since he’d left the festival, dusk had turned to full-on dark, streetlamps and Christmas lights now carrying the load of lighting the festival grounds. And the fire barrels, too, drawing clumps of people who mingled and laughed.

  “Seriously. Where ya been?” Tim matched Blake’s pace as they crossed the square.

  “Oh, man, things are happening. Big things.” Things he hadn’t planned on.

  Like kissing a beautiful woman silly and then asking her to forget France and stay in Whisper Shore, with him.

  Crazy.

  Just like he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be anymore.

  But it had felt so right.

  And she hadn’t said no.

  After dropping Autumn at the inn, he’d stopped at his parents’, let Kevin into the house, and checked on Dad before returning to the square. Snowfall had thickened on his drive back to the festival, turning the grounds into a picture of winter perfection. When they got the tree lighting going, it would be all the more picturesque. He could already taste the success.

  Except he still hadn�
��t had a chance to chat with the state tourism board members Dad had invited. Soon as the tree lighting was over, he’d find them.

  “What things are happening?” Tim asked the question as they reached the gazebo.

  “Awesome things.” Awesome if Autumn decided to stay, that is. And, well, maybe even okay if she didn’t. Because those kisses . . . Oh boy . . .

  “The tree lighting was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago. People are getting antsy.”

  “Dude, chill. We just have to wait for Autumn to get back from the inn. She should be here any minute.”

  “Then as long as we’re waiting, wanna tell me why you’re grinning like an idiot?”

  “Been a good night. That’s all.”

  “Really got the cryptic thing going on, don’t you.”

  No, he just didn’t kiss and tell. Not when the woman in question had completely captured his heart. And apparently his common sense. To think, he’d actually taken her to the water tower with the intent of telling her about Laurent.

  Oh, but this was so much better.

  “Hey, wasn’t your dad supposed to emcee the ceremony? Who’s going to do it now?”

  “Guess I will.”

  “Know what you’re going to say?”

  “Uh, thanks for coming?” And then he saw her, Autumn, marching all cute and determined his direction.

  Only she wasn’t smiling. None of the blush in her cheeks or soft delight in her eyes. She looked . . . angry.

  Tim whistled beside him. “Looks like you’re in trouble, Blake. What did you do?”

  He had no idea.

  Okay, not true. He knew what he’d done. Bundled up all his feelings into the one wild request he’d laid at her feet. “Stay . . .”

  But she hadn’t seemed upset by it. Not then anyway.

  “Look, I’ll go tell the AV guys we’re about ready to get started.” Tim jogged from the scene, disappearing just as Autumn reached him.

  “Hey—”

  She cut him off with a chilling glare. “How could you?”

  Perhaps it was a slow reaction. Perhaps the reality of what he’d asked her simply hadn’t set in until now. But was it any reason to get mad? “I thought . . . I know it was sudden, Red. You told me not to take it back, though.”