He swept his arm around her waist and tucked her into his side, his lips brushing along her hairline. “I think I might break the no-kissing rule. How do you feel about that?”
“It’s risky.” She giggled, tilted her head back to look at him, and sobered. “But sometimes risks are worth taking.”
“That’s the truth.” He lowered his head and kissed her in that round, whole way he had of making her feel like she was worth something.
* * * *
“Thanks for a great day.” Hilary smiled up at him before disembarking. They hadn’t fished. Hadn’t come back to sell their catch. She hadn’t checked her cell phone once and had barely remembered to find it before getting off the boat. She still hadn’t looked at it.
“Plenty of day left,” Tripp said, catching her hand when she stepped onto the pier. “Want to go to dinner?”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“I slept almost the whole afternoon,” he said. “I feel great.”
“Yeah, well, someone got me up at five a.m. to see the sunrise, and I didn’t nap all afternoon.”
“So that’s a no to dinner?” They were almost to his truck, and his step slowed. “We could just grab a sandwich or something from the bakery.”
She froze. “You missed Sunday dinner with your family.”
“I texted Jared when I woke up this morning. He knew where I was.”
She relaxed and squeezed his fingers. “One of those chicken salad croissants from the bakery sounds divine.”
Tripp took her there, and the street in front of the bakery seemed unusually crowded for a Sunday evening. The parking lot was full too.
“Wonder what’s going on,” Hilary said as Tripp parked a block away and they started down the sidewalk.
He glanced around, his sharp eyes alert. “Not sure,” he said. “Something’s up, though.” He pulled his phone out and checked it. “Polly’s texted me seven times.” He glanced at Hilary. “You?”
“I left my phone in your truck,” she said. The urge to go back and get it made her twist around.
“Have you heard about the new hotel coming to town?” Tripp read from his phone. “The owner is from Seattle. Where are you? We’re meeting at the bakery at five-thirty.” Tripp exhaled and walked faster. “She called too.”
“What time is it?”
“Five-fifteen.”
Relief sang through Hilary. The co-op was important to Tripp. He ran things, and most of what the local business owners did was his idea. A new hotel didn’t sound like something he’d like, especially with ownership out of Seattle. Anxiety spiraled through her, making her stomach twist and her steps tight.
She cut him a look out of the corner of her eye and found a frown on his mouth and a furrow in his brow. How could she tell him about her father’s huge hotel chain now? Hilary breathed in deep, and then deeper, trying to tell herself that he already knew her dad was in the hotel business. So it was a little bigger than she’d mentioned. He wasn’t going to come here and build a resort hotel in this small, beachside town. Her worlds weren’t going to collide.
Tripp entered the bakery, Hilary right behind him. Sure enough, the tables were packed with people, most with anxious faces. They leaned toward one another, casting looks around, as they spoke in low voices.
The bell signaling a new arrival fell silent, and so did the crowd. They all watched Tripp, and Polly rose from a table near the cash register. “There you are.” She strode forward. “I was worried you hadn’t gotten my messages.”
“Been out on the ocean all day.” He drank in the crowd. “What’s going on?”
The city recorder, Jewel Allen, stood. “Greg Howard filed for a commercial business license for a parcel of land one block north of here. The old Newman farm. Greg is the vice president of Overnight Success, the largest hotel conglomerate in the west.” Jewel scanned the crowd, but Hilary could tell they’d all heard this before. “He’s going to build a chain hotel on the land. He applied for restaurant and alcohol permits too.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, and Tripp raised his hand. “Let me grab a sandwich, and we’ll figure things out.”
Hilary went with him toward the counter at the back of the bakery, only because he maintained a grip on her fingers. A grip she knew he needed to keep himself grounded. A grip she was willing to give him. A grip she also needed so she wouldn’t bolt, wouldn’t let her feet run, and run, and run. Having such a big hotel here was too much of a reminder of what she’d left behind, of who would be coming to Redwood Bay.
It’s not even built yet, Hilary told herself, willing herself to keep her hand in Tripp’s and wait to see what happened.
Chapter Seventeen
Tripp didn’t know what to do about the chain hotel. He did know how to order sandwiches and potato chips and soda, so he did that. He and Hilary took their food to Polly’s table, and he ate his sandwich in minutes flat. Hilary did too, alerting Tripp that something wasn’t quite right. He tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him.
He wasn’t sure what these people expected to hear from him. He had no idea what to do about a chain hotel. It sounded like the land had already been bought. The deal already done. And honestly, he didn’t think having more opportunities to house more tourists in town was necessarily bad.
But he didn’t own the bed and breakfast the way Steffanie Peterson did. Her father had owned it before her, and her grandmother before that. A big, new, hundred-room hotel would definitely take some business from her.
Redwood Bay also housed two other hotels, both locally owned under a franchise name. A larger, nicer, more name-brand hotel would make them suffer too. His mind spun during his five-minute dinner—the opposite of what he’d been hoping for tonight—and he came up with no solutions.
Still, precisely at five-thirty, he rose and made his way back to the head of the crowd. Lucy joined him, and Jared leaned against the wall to Tripp’s right. “Thanks for keeping us informed, Jewel.” He nodded to the woman. “I don’t have any answers right now. We don’t even know what kind of hotel it will be. Let’s hear your concerns. Hil, will you take notes?”
She leapt from the table and collected a notebook and a pen from Diana. “Ready,” she said.
“All right,” Tripp said. “Let’s hear the concerns.”
An hour later, Tripp regretted his decision to take notes on the concerns about a new hotel. Everyone had something to say. The restaurant owners worried that an on-site restaurant would diminish their business, especially if the hotel offered free breakfast as part of their amenities.
The bed and breakfast and other hotel owners voiced many worries, most of which Tripp had already thought of.
Others, like Mike Hays, argued that a bigger hotel would have a concierge that would make recommendations as to activities to do in and around Redwood Bay. He liked that, because it meant another advertising avenue.
Tripp saw his point. A brochure about his deep sea fishing expeditions could sit right on the front desk counter….
Polly said a bigger hotel would invite more weddings to the area, which would benefit her, and Millie, and everyone who sold food.
There were valid points on all sides, and Tripp left with his brain bursting with information. As he drove Hilary home, he said, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it anyway.”
“Maybe they just needed a sounding board.”
“People like to worry about what they can’t control.” He exhaled and pulled into her driveway. He got out and let her slide to the ground behind him. Distracted, he almost missed kissing her good night.
“You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?” she asked.
“Not for a while, no,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go back to Betsy Ross and stay there. Then I won’t have to get up any earlier than necessary.” He leaned closer to her, both of her hands entwined with his. “You coming fishing tomorrow?”
“Since we lost today, I think I better.”
&n
bsp; “Today wasn’t a loss.” He swept her shawl off her shoulder, where she’d repositioned it before stepping off the boat, and pressed a kiss to her scars. “Not even close.”
At her intake of breath, heat poured through him, settling into his muscles and making them spongy and soft. He stepped back. “See you in the morning.”
She ducked her head and entered her bungalow. He stood on her doormat for an extra moment, his mind too full of thoughts to leave quickly.
Back on the boat, he paced the starboard side of the deck, wondering if a new chain hotel would be good for Redwood Bay or not. The idea of bringing in more tourists helped everyone. He just didn’t want Redwood Bay to become cookie-cutter. He loved its traditions, its small-town feel, its uniqueness in cuisine and outdoor activities.
If a chain hotel arrived, how long before chain restaurants would follow, before trendy coffee shops popped up on every corner, before big box stores dominated the landscape?
He still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to stop it. The man had bought the land and filed for the proper permits. It seemed like the hotel was coming, whether the people of Redwood Bay wanted it to or not.
So the real task at hand was to make sure something like this couldn’t happen repeatedly in the future. And to do that, Tripp would have to face the city council again. They weren’t his biggest fans, but even they would be able to see the impact of allowing big business to take over Redwood Bay. He hoped.
With those assurances in place, he stripped to his boxers and lay down in bed. The pillow still smelled like Hilary’s shampoo and he inhaled it deep, deep, deep into his soul. With every fiber of his being, he wished she were with him on the boat. Lying beside him right now, the soft rise and fall of her breath indicating she’d fallen asleep.
Holding her in that way the previous night had only shown Tripp how comfortable and pleasant his future could be. She’d revealed a lot to him yesterday, and he felt the weight of her burdens as if they were his own.
He wanted to be the kind of man she needed. The kind of man who knew what to say when she was having a bad day. The kind of man who knew when to hold her and when to question her and when to simply agree with her.
He felt one step away from failing. She had a specific idea of what romance should look and feel like, and he simply didn’t know if he could deliver that for her.
The beam from the lighthouse swept across his boat, lighting the square window above his head. He loved the lighthouse in Redwood Bay, always had. His parents had taken him and his cousins dozens of times, explained the significance of lighting the way for lost seamen.
If there was ever a time when Tripp needed an industrial-grade bulb to brighten the path he should take, it was now. He definitely needed guidance with the hotel issue, but where he really felt out of his element was with Hilary.
“Maybe you should write the dating manual,” he muttered to himself as he tossed to his other side. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start, and moving forward? He had no idea how to do that.
* * * *
Tripp spent July doing what he’d always done. Fishing and supporting the people of Redwood Bay. But it was the best July of his twenty-eight years of life, because Hilary came fishing with him every morning. Hilary brainstormed with him on how to present to the city council. Hilary held his hand and laughed with him. Hilary took off her jewelry and her scarves and walked with him on the beach.
“City council is going to vote tonight,” she said the first Thursday in August. They’d just pulled out of the pier, and her hair rode in the wind as she stood at the front of the boat.
“Don’t remind me.” Tripp glanced at her as he joined her against the railing. She wore her jacket zipped only halfway up, her scars easily extending past the fabric of her tank top.
“You’ve presented a good case, put in a good proposal,” she said.
“They want the revenue the increased business would bring.”
“Only David, and he’s only one vote. You heard Chief Harrison at the last meeting. He agrees with you. So does Ian Morris. They only need enough revenue to fix the roads and rebuild the community center.”
“We’ll see.”
Tripp arrived at the city council meeting a half an hour early, and only managed to find a seat because Lucy had saved him and Hilary two near the middle. He couldn’t settle his nerves, especially when the man from Seattle—Greg Howard—walked in with three other men.
“It’s fine,” Lucy said.
“The hotel is coming,” Tripp said. “We can’t stop that. Why are they here?” He eyed them and then noticed the way Hilary’s hands wound around and around themselves. She caught him looking and stilled her fingers before putting her hand on his leg.
He leaned over toward Lucy. “Do you know why they’re here?”
Lucy didn’t answer, and even Hilary’s hand on his knee didn’t soothe him. The meeting started, and his biggest opponent started speaking. David Ence had a lot of sway in the community because of his family, and he’d taken over the real estate empire about the same time Tripp had bought his warehouse down at the wharf.
When the microphone was opened to the public, a line had already formed. Tripp stayed in his seat. He’d gotten all these people here; he’d let them do the talking. His voice was so tired after all the visits he’d made over the past three weeks.
The meeting went on for an hour, then two. By ten o’clock, Tripp considered skipping his morning fishing trip. But tomorrow was Friday, and Lucy served fish and chips as a special on Friday.
“Time to vote,” someone said, bringing Tripp out of his thoughts. His stomach churned though it was empty.
“On the proposition to limit businesses looking to establish themselves in Redwood Bay until they appear before the city council, how do you vote? Councilman Ence?”
“Yes.”
Tripp jerked his eyes to David, who he thought would veto the proposal for sure. He’d never argued in favor of it. He didn’t particularly like Tripp much, calling him small-minded and worried about his own business over the welfare of their whole town.
All seven city council members voted to uphold the proposal and it became a city policy that any new businesses looking to establish themselves and get permits to operate in the city had to first present to the city council, who could then approve or deny them.
Tripp burst from the town hall just after ten-thirty, more jubilant than he’d been in ages. Well, probably only since first kissing Hilary a couple of months ago. He twirled her right there in the street and they both laughed.
“Free pie tomorrow!” Lucy announced, and a cheer went through the crowd.
Tripp’s adrenaline ran out quickly, especially with the reminder of the lateness of the hour. “Let’s get you home,” he said. “You can skip fishing in the morning if you want.”
Hilary clung to his arm, her hair tickling his bicep. “You staying on the boat tonight?”
“Yeah, I have to pull out in five hours.” He exhaled. “I can’t believe they passed it.”
“You have time to nap tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Jared’s organizing the supplies for an expedition next week. He doesn’t need me in the office.”
She climbed in his truck, slid across the seat, and was waiting for him when he got behind the wheel. He started the ignition, but paused when her hand slid up his arm to his face. He turned toward her with the gentlest of pressure from her fingers.
He saw something in her eyes, but he couldn’t read it. The silence stretched between them, but he waited. She finally kissed him, her lips sending fireworks through his bloodstream. He was already keyed up from the vote, and this level of kissing from Hilary might make it impossible for him to sleep.
All thoughts of sleeping fled when she said, “I want to stay on the boat with you.” She dropped her gaze and then lifted it back to his. “Can I?”
“Sure,” he managed to say. She smiled—a barely there gesture that spoke of nerves�
�and laid her head against his shoulder. He parked and they walked hand-in-hand to Betsy Ross. She didn’t pause and kiss him like she usually did in the morning. She lingered on the stern until he said, “I’m tired, Hil.”
Then she turned and gave him a sexy smile, unknotting the scarf she’d secured around her neck for the city council meeting. She dropped it to the deck and headed down the stairs. Tripp took a deep breath, wondering if this night was about to get better or worse.
Determined to do what he’d been doing for months—following her lead—he went below deck too. He found her shoes in the galley. The lamp on in the stateroom. Her sundress in the doorway.
His pulse kicked into another gear when he found her in his bed, wrapped up in his blanket. “Are we crossing off a bucket list item tonight?” he asked, needing to know before he entered the room.
“If you’re not too tired.” She pulled down the comforter, showing him that she hadn’t taken all the fun out of undressing her. Tripp growled, entered the room, and kicked the door closed.
Chapter Eighteen
Tripp made love in a way that fit his personality. Passionate, and with extreme attention to detail. She slept in his embrace and woke when he got out of bed. “Time to get up?” she asked.
“You can sleep.” He stroked her hair off her forehead and pressed a kiss there. “I’ll come get you for the sunrise.”
She smiled and listened to his footsteps go up top. He returned later, but she didn’t know how much time had gone by. And he didn’t ask her to come watch the sunrise. He kissed her in that lingering, fervent way that made her blood ignite. He made love to her again, then laced his fingers through hers and said, “We’ll miss the sunrise if we don’t go up soon.”
Feeling soft and heated, like a melting marshmallow, she managed to pull on her sundress and follow him up to the deck. He protected her from the worst of the wind by keeping her tucked into his side, his strong arm around her shoulders welcome and wonderful.
Until Autumn Falls Page 12
