The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  I snap upright and then, remembering that I’m supposed to be looking bored, slump in my chair, taking a page from my dad’s book.

  “Good morning, dear,” Delia trills and continues through to her office. “How is the first day of work treating you?”

  “Not great to be honest.” I follow her into her mess of an office.

  “Is it because of what happened with Kade and Cooper Monroe this morning?” Delia fiddles with a bouquet of fake roses on her desk. “I told you, dear, if you wanted to see them check in, you had to be here early.”

  “It’s not that,” I say, sighing deeply. I’m laying it on thick; Delia should send me to Edendale after this. “Legacy just isn’t fun for me.”

  “You know what would be fun? Taking these boxes of napkins to the kitchen.” She kicks two boxes over to me as she rifles through a handful of to-do lists.

  She’s not getting it. I clear my throat and try again.“I’m not sure it would be.”

  Delia peers at me over her half-moon glasses.

  I hold her gaze. Whoever breaks eye contact first loses.

  She dances over the mess on her office floor without tripping or breaking eye contact. She stands close — too close — and her green eyes are piercing.

  I feel myself faltering, but I can’t look away.

  Her voice is low. “In life, things aren’t always fun. But you have to do them anyway. I hired you for this job this summer and I expect you to do your work, even if it isn’t always fun. Understand?”

  We stand, silent and still. Two statues in a face-off. She’s committing to this? There are a billion other things for her to do. But she’s locked in a stare-down with a teenager.

  My eyes are dry and the urge to blink is overwhelming. I hold my breath and keep my face neutral.

  I feel it coming.

  Blink.

  I drop my gaze, my eyes watering.

  Delia taps my shoulder. “Chin up, Bree. I felt the same way at your age, but it really isn’t so bad.”

  I pick up the boxes and frustration bubbles within me. So much for that plan. I could not have been any more direct with her about how I was feeling. So why hasn’t Delia sent me back to Edendale?

  “Back soon,” I mumble.

  “Woah, bella! Watch where you’re going!”

  The boxes of napkins are stacked high in my arms when I wander as gracefully as I can into the kitchen. I shift the boxes to find the owner of the voice. “Fernando. It’s been so long!”

  Fernando peeks his head over the boxes. “Bree!”

  He grabs the boxes and places them firmly on the counter. Then, before I can say a word, he gives me a bear hug.

  I laugh, blushing. “Great to see you too!”

  The fridge door bursts open and Noah marches out. “Look who decided to show up!”

  “The raccoon, you mean?”

  “Naturally.”

  Noah bends over one of the stainless steel counters. He carefully applies mayo to the sandwich bread, his face creased in concentration. What must it be like to be so focused, so dedicated to something — even something so ordinary as mayonnaise?

  I remember my mom’s words — “Noah’s a great kid.” The very opposite of everything I am. I’ve heard through the Edendale High grapevine that he works multiple jobs on top of his schoolwork. Imagine, being that consistent, reliable and organized.

  A wicked thought comes to me. My mom would be so pissed if she heard that I was bothering Noah. She’d hate the thought that my wild and careless ways might rub off on him. As an irresponsible person, wouldn’t that fit perfectly with my M.O.?

  I don’t need to destroy his work ethic, but maybe I can swing it just enough to get a rise out of him. It’s worth a try, I’m bored today.

  “Whatcha doing?” I taunt him.

  He smiles his half-smile, cool as a cucumber. “Thought it was clear.”

  I pick up a pickle.

  “This looks really good.” I hold the pickle to my lips, about to bite down. “Hope it’s okay if I eat it.”

  “Suit yourself,” Noah says.

  I bite into the pickle. The taste of vinegar fills my mouth.

  He casually adds, “that one might taste a little like the floor.”

  My eyes grow wide. My stomach lurches. Ew, ew ew! I run to the sink and spit out the bite, throwing the pickle into the garbage disposal.

  I can almost taste the floor — whatever floor tastes like. “You could’ve said something!”

  “You seemed so intent on eating it.” Noah places cheese onto a mayo-covered bread slice, unnervingly casual. “And also, it didn’t actually fall on the floor.”

  “Well played.” I glare. So that’s how it’s going to be. Maybe I won’t be able to taunt him into submission, but a lifetime of summers together has given me knowledge of his weak spots. His back is to me, so I slip behind him quietly.

  As he’s placing a slice of cheese on the final piece of bread, I jab at his side. I’m trying to tickle him, but my jabbing motion is a little more aggressive than necessary.

  “Ah!” He pulls to the side, an unmistakable laugh escaping. His arm whips out, and, like a frisbee, the slice of cheddar flies across the room. It lands on the back of Fernando’s head and stays there for a breath like a square orange hat.

  Fernando freezes.

  The cheddar falls tragically to the floor.

  Uh oh, we went too far.

  Fernado stares sadly at the fallen cheese slice. “What a waste of good cheddar.”

  “Sorry Fernando.” We say in unison, both staring at the ground. Through my eyelashes, though, I see Noah smiling, just a bit. My heart races from the adrenaline.

  Fernando picks it up, shrugs, and pops the cheddar into his mouth. “Five second rule!”

  “Okay, Sawyer.” I face Noah and puff my chest out, but he still towers over me. When did he get so tall? “I don’t know how and I don’t know when. But I will get a rise out of you.”

  Noah’s sparkling blue eyes meet mine and I wait for his answer, holding my breath.

  “You can try, Lewis. You can try.”

  14

  Noah

  Bree and I stare each other down, just like we did when we were kids. She wants a staring contest? I’m determined not to lose. Her turquoise eyes bore into mine and the world feels quiet again. It’s just me, her, and this competition.

  I smile. Bree always used to do this — press my buttons until she got a rise out of me. I was the level-headed one in our duo and she found it really entertaining when I lost my cool. What’s she going to cook up in that sharp brain of hers?

  Then, Fernando’s ringtone breaks the spell.

  “Oh, I must get this!” He answers the call and exits the kitchen.

  I’m suddenly aware of how close I’m standing to Bree. I see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the slightest of freckles on her cheeks, the bow of her lips. I almost want to tilt down and kiss her—

  What? Where did that come from? Cool it.

  I clear my throat and step away, getting back on track. The silence stretches between us, but Bree doesn’t leave the kitchen.

  “You know what would be really annoying?” I ask. “If you started cutting tomatoes.”

  A flash of worry crosses Bree’s face and she glances towards the door, but she quickly pastes on a beaming smile. “Love to.”

  I stack the vegetables on the counter while Bree washes her hands. She ties an apron around her waist, then stares at a pile of lettuce, her expression unreadable.

  “You must love working in the kitchen.” She picks up a knife and examines the edge like she’s suspicious of it. “Is being a chef your dream, end-of-the-line, love-this-forever kinda job?”

  I laugh at her serious tone. I’ve never heard anyone speak of their “dreams” in such a grim way. “Legacy’s a great place to work. But chopping veggies and setting kitchens on fire will always come second to writing.”

  I freeze, my hand in the air. Why did I say that?


  Bree carefully slices the end off of a tomato. “Still writing stories?”

  “Sort of.” I cut through a tomato and start to chop, allowing the mindless movement to quiet the crush of despair. Can I even call myself a writer anymore? When was the last time I got words on the page? I’ve tried so many things to break through the writer’s block — meditation being the most recent. But, aside from feeling mildly more relaxed in the midst of my sisters’ screeching, it didn’t help. “I’ve been back and forth on a few projects.”

  “What’s your top project? Like, what do you want to write about most?”

  I clamp my mouth shut. I’ve said too much already. When we were kids, I couldn’t control my words around Bree — she had a way of making me speak my mind without realizing I was doing it. Even my stupid ideas didn’t feel stupid when she was around.

  I don’t want to answer the question, so I give a wordless shrug.

  A fire lights in her eyes.

  My heart sinks.

  This is the reaction she was looking for. When it comes to secrets, Bree’s a dog with a bone. “Come on, Sawyer. You know you want to talk about it.”

  I choose my words carefully. “I’m good. Seriously.”

  “But I’m your oldest friend. Don’t you want to tell me what you’re writing about?” She blinks her eyelashes innocently.

  The simple gesture almost shatters my resolve. But, I steel myself against her blue-eyed stare. “Fernando’s going to be back soon. We should get slicing.”

  Bree frowns and I turn back to chopping vegetables. I sneak a glance at her, and she has a scheming look in her eyes.

  Then, unexpectedly, she drops the topic with a shrug. We finish the sandwiches, chatting easily. After a while, I realize that my shoulders aren’t tense and my mind isn’t racing. It’s kind of fun having her around in the kitchen.

  “All right, Sawyer.” Bree places the sandwiches on a serving tray. She motions with her fingers to say she’s watching me. “Until next time.”

  “Next time you bore me with your presence, you mean?”

  “Something like that.”

  The kitchen door closes behind her and the room is eerily quiet. Strangely, I miss her presence, like the kitchen was brighter when she was here. I wipe the counter but my mind is elsewhere, given to memories of my childhood here with Bree — memories I’d buried so deep beneath grief that they feel like experiences that never happened to me.

  15

  Bree

  “So, your parents own Legacy? What’s that like?” Anaya pops the last bite of cereal into her mouth and stares at me expectantly. Stefi and Kiara sit back in their seats, waiting for my answer. I’ve been working at Legacy for three days now and the four of us have started eating our meals together, almost accidentally.

  I’ve been waiting for this topic to come up, dreading it. Everyone wants to know the dirt about the successful Lewis family.

  “It’s great. Amazing,” I say robotically, staring down at my empty plate.

  “I bet it’s time consuming for them,” Kiara pipes in. She doesn’t look like she’s hunting for information, or craving gossip.

  I relax slightly. “That’s an understatement.”

  Fortunately, Stefi, Anaya and Kiara move on from the subject. In no time, we’re chatting about Stefi’s freak encounter with Cooper Monroe earlier today. We clear our plates. After breakfast, my cheeks hurt from smiling. Apparently, I’m actually enjoying my time at Legacy Inn so far. Weird.

  Heading to reception, I get into gear for mission “slack back to Edendale.” The thought came to me last night after another day of feigning complete boredom. If Delia won’t send me back because I’m miserable, she has to send me back if I’m a bad worker… Right?

  I stroll into reception — the chamber of silence — and Delia is nowhere in sight. I sneak into her office and pluck my favorite pink cowboy hat off the Wall. Placing it squarely on my head, I return to the receptionist’s desk and click the mouse a couple of times. The screen with the rooming lists appears but, instead of doing actual work, I open a new tab and search for “Portugal.”

  After a few minutes of scanning through images, though, the satisfaction ebbs and sadness takes over. My parents are there right now, with Isla — perhaps they’re visiting that beach today, or that castle. I’ve been messaging Isla and she’s doing well, but it isn’t the same as being with her in person.

  The phone breaks the silence and I glance around. No Delia in sight.

  “Legacy Inn, this is Bree.” My tone is friendly and professional.

  “Hi, I was wondering about your services. Your website says there’s a lake, I want to make sure that there are lifeguards? I have two young kids and...”

  Delia strolls into reception and I stop paying attention to the caller. Reflexively, I sit back in my chair, adopting a lazy posture. I hold the phone against my shoulder and check my nails like I couldn’t care less about the person on the other end of the line. Then, I tip the pink cowboy hat in greeting.

  “Yeah,” I say loudly when there’s a break in the guest’s monologue. “That’s right.”

  My voice is unmistakably disinterested, but thankfully, the guest hasn’t caught on. She thanks me and hangs up, but I keep the phone tucked on my shoulder, wanting to play up the “slacker” label. Delia is rummaging in her office and I know she can hear me.

  “Yes,” I say to the dial tone, feigning impatience. “Didn’t I just say that?”

  Delia’s office has gone quiet. Yep, she’s listening now.

  “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” I say angrily to the dial tone.

  Delia’s shadow appears in the door frame.

  Time for a flawless finale. Surely this will get me sent back to Edendale.

  “Then go somewhere else! We’re way too busy for you, anyway.”

  I slam the phone down and wait for Delia to storm out of her office to send me packing.

  Seconds go by and nothing happens.

  Was my voice too quiet? Did she hear me?

  Then, Delia strides out of the room holding a phone receiver in her hand. She heard the whole thing. She knows I faked the end of the conversation.

  I look at her sheepishly. What’s she going to do about it?

  She has a suspicious smile on her face. “You’re way too much like me when I was your age.”

  With that, she returns to her office and I hear her chuckling. I hide my burning face behind my computer screen.

  16

  Noah

  The kitchen door slams open and Bree saunters in. I smile instinctively and my heart skips a beat. I probably just had too much coffee this morning.

  “Fernando, get the broom,” I shout, even though he’s nowhere near the kitchen. “The raccoon’s returned.”

  Bree leans against the counter, a devilish look in her eye. “Can’t a girl drop in unexpectedly on a childhood friend?”

  “Only if she has no ulterior motive.”

  She puts her hand on her chest and mock gasps. “Me? Never.”

  I meet her gaze and then continue slicing carrots. A minute ago, I was stressing about there being too much to do. Now, I just want to talk to her, find out what she has planned.

  “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the container next to me.

  “Slime.”

  “Looks tasty.” Without warning, she sticks her finger into the Jello, licks it, and then sticks it back in for another taste. “Super tasty.”

  I stifle a smile and then paste a bored expression on my face. Little does she know that I abandoned that Jello about an hour ago. I’m not going to pop her bubble though, she’s trying so hard.

  She frowns at my nonplussed expression and continues walking through the kitchen, no doubt looking for another disruptive opportunity. She spots the radio. “It’s so quiet in here. Some music, perhaps?”

  “I’d be careful with that.” I tip the sliced carrots into a bowl. “Fernando is very particular about which stati
on he plays.”

  “Really?” she asks with a note of suspicion. “Fernando is particular?”

  She meets my gaze and her eyes carry a dare. She turns the dial and the volume goes up on some European techno song. Then, she hovers her fingers over the channel buttons.

  “Your funeral.” I shrug with a smile. Fernando is generally easy-going but he knows what he likes when it comes to music.

  As she changes the station, I wonder, idly, what Bree listens to now. Maybe R&B or country. Or pop. The next station is playing a song I love — a classic rock ballad. Immediately, Bree turns the volume way up and starts twirling around the kitchen, singing along and knocking pots and pans to match the instrumental. She spins and dances all the way over to me. I can’t keep my eyes off her.

  “Come on!” She shouts over the vocals. “We used to love this song. Remember?”

  I remember. We used to dance in the garden until our feet hurt and then jump in the lake. I smile and put my knife down, leaning against the counter. I watch her as she continues dancing. She looks so free, so uninhibited.

  I’d love to be that free. To have that much fun again.

  “MI BELLA!” Fernando charges in and takes Bree’s hands. “This is a classic!”

  Fernando twirls Bree around, dips her, pulls her back up, and then spins her around once again. By now, I’m whooping and clapping along with them. My face hurts from smiling, the stress from minutes ago a distant memory. But too soon, the song ends and Fernando places Bree squarely back on her feet.

  “Wonderful dancing with you, cara mia.” Fernando bows deeply, then turns the music back down to acceptable levels.

  Bree strolls over to me. Unsure what else to do, I give her a fist-bump. “Well, that was entertaining for a Wednesday afternoon.”

  “I’m here to entertain.” She winks and then leaves the kitchen.

  Fernando and I return to our tasks, our spirits higher. It’s been tough without Carrie and I’m excited for her to be back. But my stomach knots up anytime I think about the busy weeks ahead. Around Bree, some of that stress melts away.