The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk)

by Samantha Young

  Dahlia laughed as she gazed at a still shell-shocked Jessica. “Ah. Now everything makes sense.”

  “What makes sense?” Vaughn was suddenly there, slipping into the space between Jessica and the customer on her left.

  Bailey glowered at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to give you all the good news,” he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but.

  “And what good news is that?” Dahlia said.

  Vaughn looked at Cooper and the uneasiness in his eyes made Cooper still, distracting him from the bad scene with Dana. “George Beckwith is selling up. Ian Devlin is gloating all over town about how he’s finally going to have a spot on the boardwalk.”

  “Fuck!” Bailey snapped.

  Vaughn flicked her a rueful look. “For once, Miss Hartwell, we are in absolute agreement.”

  Jessica

  I was still so stunned from watching Cooper throw his ex-wife out of the bar that I got whiplash from Vaughn’s change of subject.

  It was like he’d appeared out of nowhere.

  “Wow, things have gotten exciting around here,” Dahlia said beside me. “Never let me go on vacation again.”

  “Exciting? This isn’t exciting,” Bailey huffed. “This is horrifying.”

  Confused, I held up a hand to stop anyone from saying anything else. I understood no one liked the Devlins, but they were acting like this news was Armageddon. “Okay, I know Ian Devlin is unscrupulous, but why exactly is it such a bad thing for him to have a place on the boardwalk? Won’t it mean he’ll finally stop harassing you guys?”

  Bailey sighed. “As businesses we work closely together. Well”—she shot Vaughn a suspicious look—“most of us work closely together, and none of us want to work with Devlin.”

  Vaughn leaned on the bar beside me and I was suddenly caught in his pale gray eyes as they focused on me. “Despite Miss Hartwell’s lack of enthusiasm for me, there really are no issues between any of us. We understand one another’s place here. Devlin, however, is the kind of man who likes to stir up trouble and he has a certain vision for the boardwalk. All of this—Cooper’s bar, Bailey’s inn, Dahlia’s gift store, Ira and Iris’s place, the bookstore next door—doesn’t fit Devlin’s vision. He wants to bulldoze it and create something sleek, modern, and shiny in its place. Think European designer stores and five-star restaurants.”

  “Your hotel fits that description,” Bailey said.

  Vaughn flicked his gaze to her. “I’m aware. But my hotel is successful because Hart’s Boardwalk is popular. As it is. Rule of thumb in business and life, Miss Hartwell: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

  From the sound of Ian Devlin’s vision for a new boardwalk, he wanted to destroy everything I loved about this place. He wanted to take away all of its character and authenticity and make it something for just the elite. “He can’t do that,” I snapped.

  Cooper suddenly reached over and took my hand. “The problem is, we don’t know what Devlin is really capable of. He’s shady. Ruthless. If he becomes part of this community, throwing his weight around, at the very least our lives will be more stressful.”

  “Surely George won’t sell to him,” Dahlia said, sounding worried.

  Vaughn straightened from his spot beside me. His look was grim. “Beckwith is moving to Canada permanently. He’ll sell to the highest bidder.”

  Bailey made a face at him. “George isn’t just a businessman, Tremaine. He’s a Hartwell man. He won’t sell to Devlin.”

  His answer was to grunt in disbelief.

  “Worst-case scenario . . .” Cooper said. “He might.”

  “Well, you’ve got a ton of money,” Bailey said, gesturing to Vaughn. “You buy it.”

  “I am a businessman. I’m a hotel man. I don’t need a second hotel here. I don’t go after what I don’t need.”

  “What about going after what you want?” she huffed.

  Those steely eyes of his suddenly narrowed on her and his tone turned low, sexy, and more than a little dangerous. “Oh, Miss Hartwell, you don’t ever want me going after what I want.”

  My eyes bugged out at the insinuation and I tried to peek at Bailey surreptitiously. For once he’d completely silenced her. Her lips were parted in shock and I could tell she was trying to work out what the hell he meant by that comment.

  I looked at Cooper, who was looking down at the bar, wearing an amused smirk. Feeling my perusal, he glanced up at me, caught my bugged-out expression, and grinned.

  “Um, the point, anyway”—Dahlia threw Vaughn a bewildered look—“is that we need to do something to stop this. Ideas?”

  “And that’s my cue to leave,” Vaughn said.

  “Of course,” Bailey bit out. “Of course you’d leave.”

  “I just came as the messenger.”

  “Well, messenger of doom suits you. Good job,” she said sarcastically.

  He rolled his eyes toward Cooper and gave him a beleaguered look.

  Cooper struggled not to laugh. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Vaughn nodded before turning to me. “Good night, Dr. Huntington.”

  “You know you can call me Jessica,” I said.

  I heard Bailey squeak in indignation behind me.

  He heard it, too, and smiled. “Jessica.” He flicked his gaze to Dahlia. “Miss McGuire.” And without looking at her, Vaughn began walking away and called over his shoulder, “Good night, Miss Hartwell.”

  “Tremaine,” Bailey growled under her breath.

  It took everything within me not to burst out laughing.

  “Well, hell,” Old Archie suddenly called from the other side of the bar, pulling us all out of the moment. “That put a damper on things. But I still remember you said next round on the house, Coop.”

  “You would, Archie,” Cooper drawled as he headed over to serve him.

  As soon as Archie spoke, I immediately thought of Anita and wondered how she was doing. Archie didn’t seem too perturbed so I guessed her results weren’t back yet.

  “Hey, Archie.” Dahlia slid onto the stool beside Bailey. “How’s Anita?”

  “Oh, she isn’t feeling so good. The doctor is doing some tests or something, but I’m not worried.” He gave a tired smile. “You know Anita. That woman is made of steel. She’s with me, isn’t she?”

  Dahlia smiled at his crack. “Tell her I’m asking for her.”

  He nodded and took the draft Cooper shoved toward him.

  “Okay, ignoring for a second the dramatic bombshell Tremaine dropped,” Bailey said, still sounding aggravated, “proper introductions are in order.”

  Sitting between us, she touched my arm and looked at Dahlia. “Dahlia, meet Jessica.” She looked at me and touched Dahlia’s arm. “Jessica, meet Dahlia.”

  I grinned and reached past Bailey to shake Dahlia’s hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  She grinned at me. “Same to you. Looks like you’ve sparked some excitement around here.”

  Dahlia McGuire, I soon noted as we all began to chat, was an intriguing mix of an adorable personality and beautiful features. For the most part she was cute because there was a slight goofiness about her manner—the way she pulled exaggerated faces whether she was laughing or pretending to be horrified or surprised—but when she was still and serious she was beautiful. Her hair was the stuff of envy. It was thick and black and fell down her back in luscious waves. Thick bangs (adding to the cuteness) framed her large crystal-blue eyes. She had a delicate nose and lush mouth, and that with her big eyes reminded me of the Bratz dolls my goddaughter loved collecting. Dahlia and Bailey shared a similar peaches-and-cream complexion—except Dahlia didn’t have cute freckles over her nose like Bailey did.

  What added to Dahlia’s cuteness was her height. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, but like me she was curvy. My h
eight stretched out my curves. Dahlia’s height seemed to emphasize hers and she was dressed in a tight summer dress that captured her sensuality. I wondered if there was a man alive who didn’t drool when Dahlia McGuire walked by.

  “Jess has been wanting to get into your store since she got here. I told her about your jewelry.”

  “You’re welcome anytime,” Dahlia said.

  I’d been staring at her earrings for a while. Each was a large hammered copper heart with a smaller hammered silver heart layered over it. “Did you make those?”

  She fingered them. “Yup.”

  “Those are beautiful. Are you open tomorrow?” Not that I had the extra cash to spend on jewelry . . .

  Dahlia laughed and nodded.

  Cooper had been busy at the bar, but I was aware of him the whole time I spoke with Dahlia. When he stopped by us, I looked up at him and immediately got ensnared in his gaze. “You ladies come up with any solutions to the Devlin problem?”

  “No,” Bailey said. “We’ve been talking about Dahlia’s jewelry.”

  “I thought you were worried.”

  Clearly he was.

  I frowned, wanting to comfort him.

  “I am,” Bailey insisted. “But solutions don’t come to me at the end of a long day. My brain works better first thing in the morning and I promise if I think of anything I will let you know.”

  “I think our best bet is George,” Dahlia said. “We just need to talk him out of selling to Devlin.”

  I felt a sudden flurry of butterflies at the mention of George. After all, he was the reason I had ever discovered Hartwell. Well, Sarah and her letters were. If George returned, I’d finally get to give him Sarah’s letters. “Do you think he’ll come back to finalize the sale?”

  “Probably.” Bailey said and then realization lit up her eyes. “Oh, Sarah’s letters.”

  “What?” Dahlia frowned. “What am I missing?”

  Without saying a word Cooper disappeared to the other end of the bar, and I knew it was because we’d mentioned his mother’s cousin. I frowned, uneasiness settling over me at his continued reaction to the woman.

  She had died young. Of cancer. In prison.

  Hadn’t she served enough penance to be forgiven?

  “. . . so Jess brought the letters here to give to George.” I caught the tail end of Bailey explaining the situation to Dahlia.

  “Oh, my God, that’s so sad,” Dahlia said. “And so kind of you, Jessica.”

  I gave a strained smile, unable to get that feeling of foreboding out of my chest.

  “I think that’s the plan,” Bailey said. “We find a way to contact George. Get him back here. We stop him selling to the Devlins and Jess can give him the letters.”

  The two friends nodded triumphantly at each other, happy with their plan. I, however, suddenly wondered if I wasn’t setting myself up to fail here in Hartwell . . . and setting myself up for heartbreak over Cooper Lawson.

  There was no need for me to worry about Cooper questioning why I was quiet as he drove me to his place that night. There was no need to worry because he was too busy stewing quietly over his own thoughts to notice I was doing the same.

  My worries about what that meant for us dissipated a little when he got out of the truck and came around to take my hand as I got out. He absentmindedly brushed his thumb over the top of my hand as he led me into his house. He liked me enough to still want to touch me.

  So maybe he wasn’t thinking about his anger toward Sarah or my compassion for her, and why I was so compassionate about her . . .

  Fingers crossed.

  When he said, “You should have told me about Dana,” I wondered if this conversation was any better than a convo about Sarah.

  I sat down on the sofa, breaking his hold, but Cooper sat on the coffee table so that our knees touched, not allowing me physical space in the hopes, I thought, of me not creating any emotional space between us.

  And I really, really wanted emotional space when it came to the topic of his beautiful ex-wife and his heated reaction to her earlier that night.

  “Jessica,” he prompted.

  He usually reserved my name for when we were having sex. I took the dropping of my nickname to mean that he meant business. “I honestly didn’t want to stress you out about it. I didn’t think she was worth it.”

  “Anything she says to you is my business,” he snapped.

  More worry needled at me. I didn’t want to come off as some jealous girlfriend, but the truth was . . . I’d felt a surge of possessiveness over him when I realized Dana was in the bar. The feeling scared me. I’d never felt possessive or jealous over a man in my entire life.

  “What is it?” he said, leaning closer to me.

  The worry I felt was mirrored in his expression.

  “You’ve got this look in your eyes . . .” He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been wearing it since I threw Dana out of my place.”

  “Your reaction tonight . . . all that heat . . . Do you still have feelings for her?” I blurted out.

  Cooper dropped my hand, shock in his eyes. “What?”

  Oh boy.

  This conversation could go downhill really fast, I knew that, but I also thought the best policy at that point was total honesty. “The way you reacted to her . . . there was a lot of passion there, Cooper.” Silently, I thought to myself: And she’s drop-dead gorgeous.

  I knew that last part was particularly unfair because it suggested Cooper was a shallow man. And that was not how I intended it. But he was a man . . . and I couldn’t imagine many men not succumbing to someone as beautiful as Dana.

  He surveyed me a moment and then he drew his hand over his mouth, looking suddenly tired. “I’ve been ignoring her,” he said softly. “When she first started popping up after the divorce, asking me back, I got pissed. And then I realized getting pissed was giving her what she wanted. She thought my anger meant something. All it meant was that I couldn’t believe that the person who’d taken away a man I considered a brother had the selfish audacity to show up bothering me again.

  “That’s what I feel, Doc, when I see her. I don’t see her betrayal anymore. I see his. I see Jack’s. She could have cheated with anyone. Any asshole. But she did it with him and she knew, she fucking knew, that man was like a brother to me.”

  I heard the venom mixed with deep pain in his voice and I reached for him, gripping his hand tight as tears stung my eyes. There was so much pain there. So much pain buried down deep.

  And I could see, I could recognize now, that it wasn’t for Dana. It was all for Jack Devlin.

  “We were friends since we were kids.” He squeezed my hand so tight it was almost painful. “Closer than that. Brothers. Every shitty thing I ever went through, Jack was there by my side. There after my dad left. There when my mom died. Cried at my fucking side at her funeral,” he muttered.

  I wanted to cry for him right now. “I’m sorry.”

  His blue eyes pierced through me when he suddenly refocused. “Tonight I was ignoring Dana like I always did because I didn’t want to give her what she wanted—my attention. But threatening you . . . trying to fuck up what we have the way she fucked up my friendship with Jack . . .” He leaned in, his voice thick. “That heat I gave her wasn’t about her, Jessica, it was about you.”

  His words drew me forward until my mouth hovered near his, and just like that the uneasiness that had resurfaced earlier at the mention of Sarah’s letters was shoved back down by my undeniable attraction to him. “Dana’s threat did the opposite,” I whispered, brushing his lower lip. “It just made me more determined to explore this connection between us . . . to make you happy.”

  Cooper groaned and captured my mouth with his. It was a slow, languid kiss, but it was also deep and drugging, pulling my body under a now familiar sexual spell. He gently b
roke the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine. “You’re doing a great job, Doc.”

  “Hmm?” I said, confused and dazed by the lust pumping through my blood.

  He smiled knowingly. “Fuck, you’re adorable.”

  “I’m doing a great job of what?”

  “Of making me happy.”

  A thrill zinged through my whole body, a thrill mixed with warmth and tinged with fear. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “Oh.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Jessica

  “You know my vacation officially ends tomorrow,” I said after swallowing a bite of the pancakes Cooper had whipped up along with bacon and scrambled eggs.

  Cooper had made me breakfast.

  I’d never had a guy make me breakfast before.

  I’d never stuck around long enough to give a guy time to make me breakfast.

  “How do you feel about that?” Cooper said, sitting across from me, sipping his coffee. He’d already finished his food.

  I was savoring mine.

  Savoring the moment.

  “It’s scary,” I said truthfully. “Not the new job. Bailey showed me the ropes and anything I don’t know I can learn as I go along.”

  “So what’s still scaring you, Doc?”

  “Well, that, for a start.” I gestured to him with my fork. “The not-being-a-doctor part. That is scary.”

  “Remember, there’s a position open at Paul Duggan’s office. His daughter used to work for him, but she moved up to New Jersey with her husband. He needs another doctor in there. Some might call that fate.”

  I gave him a wry smile. This town and its belief in fate.

  Although, to be honest, I was tempted by the offer and tempted by the thought that maybe it was fate. It would make life easier to believe that, because it was a job I did well and one that had meaning for me, and the money would be better than what I’d make working for Bailey. However, I still wasn’t sure why I’d chosen to become a doctor. I used to think I knew. But everything had flipped on its head since I’d arrived in Hartwell, and I still wasn’t sure that being a doctor wasn’t repentance rather than a dream.