The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk)

by Samantha Young

  Antonio’s was noisy, rambunctious, full of energy.

  It was nothing like the soothing sound of the surf crashing against the shore.

  And yet as I stood there, my eyes locked with Cooper Lawson’s, surrounded by the people of Hartwell, that feeling I’d gotten the first time I stood on the balcony at Bailey’s inn washed over me.

  Peace.

  At last.

  “Yeah,” I said, “I can definitely cope with it.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As is usual for any given day, one morning I was in the car with my mum while she told me the plot to the book she was reading. From this conversation sprang one about the dying art of letter writing, and it was in this moment that Jessica’s story hit me like a cartoonish bolt of lightning. Quite quickly the idea of setting her story in a boardwalk town on the East Coast followed, as I have a love for boardwalks, and relished the concept of creating a series about the characters in a boardwalk community.

  So thank you, Mum, for our daily conversations about everything and nothing. And not just because the kernel of one grew into an entire book series.

  Just because.

  I also want to thank Georgia Cates, Amy Bartol, Rachel Higginson, and Shelly Crane. All your insights and thoughts at our writer’s retreat in Nebraska were inspiring and motivational for this series. Thank you for that, and thank you for being there every day for me. I couldn’t ask for better friends. You get it! And I love you for that, and for the incredible quantity of humor and sarcasm we provide as a group. I laugh so hard with you, Horsemen!

  There are never enough thank-yous for my agent, Lauren Abramo. Lauren, I couldn’t ask for a better champion. I know I’m exceptionally lucky to have you as mine.

  Moreover, thank you to my editor, Kerry Donovan, for believing in me and for supporting me in this new venture into Hart’s Boardwalk. You make me a better writer, and I’m incredibly grateful I get to work with you.

  Also thank you to all the team at Berkley, including Erin Galloway, my publicist; and the art team for creating stunning cover art.

  Finally, as always, a massive thank-you to you, my readers. Thank you, thank you, thank you. A million thank-yous.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Samantha Young’s newest book in the Hart’s Boardwalk series,

  Every Little Thing

  Available in March 2017

  Bailey

  It was almost impossible for me to drift immediately to sleep when I finally got myself into a bed. You’d think after the long hours I worked, my exhaustion would pull me right under. Unfortunately, I had so many tasks and thoughts and worries whirring around in my brain on any given day that it took a while for my brain to shut down.

  After another long day at the inn I’d crashed in the room I kept open at the back of the house. For the longest time I’d done my very best to drag myself home for Tom, but now I didn’t have to worry about that, and when I was especially tired, it was nice that I could sleep at the inn. The small room had come in handy, because like all the guest rooms it had its own bathroom, and when Jess was struggling last year I had let her stay there while she worked as my manager.

  I reached over for my phone and groaned at the time. I’d thought I was being a good girl going to bed early at midnight. It was one o’clock now and I was still not asleep.

  Come to me, goddess of sleep!

  I huffed and kicked off the covers, flipping over onto my other side.

  Finally, just as I was drifting close to that heavenly oblivion of slumber I heard a creak down the hall from my room. Near my office.

  I sat up quietly and listened, wondering if one of my guests was wandering around. The click of my office door opening made my heart rate speed.

  None of my guests should be wandering into my office.

  And shit. I needed to start locking it.

  Out of nowhere, I was hit by the horrible feeling that the person who had opened my office door wasn’t one of my guests.

  The stairs in the inn were creaky. There was no way I wouldn’t have heard someone coming down those.

  The blood whooshed in my ears as my heart pounded against my chest. Grabbing my phone, I got out of bed as quietly as possible and tiptoed over to my door.

  I winced at the slight snick of the handle turning and froze, waiting. When I was sure I hadn’t been heard, I slowly opened it, peering out into my dark hallway. There was a faint light coming from my office. A moving light.

  A flashlight.

  I felt sick at the violation of someone breaking into the inn.

  But also extremely pissed off.

  Tiptoeing down the hall, avoiding the all too familiar creaky spots in the floorboards, I got to the office and cautiously peeked my head around the door.

  Uncertainty and, yes, not a little bit of fear moved through me at the sight of the tall masked man rifling through my files. My computer screen was on but it was password protected. He was probably looking for something to help him work out the password but he’d find nothing. I had memorized an anagram to remember my complicated password.

  The man, dressed all in black, turned his head to the side, and even in the woolen ski mask he wore over his face I recognized him.

  Stu Devlin.

  I was sure of it.

  It made sense. He was probably searching for something that might be useful as leverage in obtaining the inn from me.

  Moron!

  There was no way that Ian Devlin put him up to this in his effort to amass more boardwalk real estate. Stu’s father might be an asshole but he was a much sneakier asshole than his idiot son.

  I dialed 911 on my phone as I stepped into the room.

  He jerked at my arrival, his head snapping in my direction.

  Dark, flat eyes stared at me and I knew without a doubt it was Stu.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  “I have an intruder in my establishme— Oof!” His body hit mine before I even had time to react to him suddenly launching himself at me.

  My breath slammed out of me as I crashed to the floor, pain juddering through my head as it smacked against the floorboards. At the heavy, warm weight settling over me, my eyes flew open in panic.

  Stu’s cruel eyes glared down at me as he reached for the phone in my hand. I gripped it tighter, struggling to keep hold of it as his strong fingers clawed at mine. Finally he grabbed my wrist and hammered it against the floor. Pain shot down my arm and I reflexively let go of the phone.

  He immediately threw it against the wall, grunting in satisfaction at the sound of it breaking.

  Fury roared through me at the shock of him physically attacking me. With my good hand I reached for his mask, my nails scratching him as I tried to drag it off his face so I could finally have evidence to get one of these bastards charged for criminal activity.

  “I know it’s you!” I screeched as his fingers bit into my hands.

  We struggled as adrenaline aided me in my pissed-off quest to unmask the bastard. I wasn’t thinking. I was just too angry.

  He hissed as I clawed at his arm, drawing blood, and he released me to pull his elbow back, his fist coming toward me as I stared up at him in horror.

  But his fist never met my face.

  Suddenly he was no longer straddling me because another body had launched itself at him, throwing him off me.

  I scrambled to my feet. “Holy fuck.” I breathed, stunned.

  The other body belonged to the man who was currently wrestling Stu. And that man was Vaughn. A very furious Vaughn.

  Stu grunted as Vaughn punched him, but then Vaughn grunted when Stu buried his fist in Vaughn’s gut. It was a hard enough hit to wind him, catching him off guard, and off balance. He was quick to his feet though, lunging at Stu, grappling with him. I watched as they fought, Stu deftly avoiding becomin
g unmasked.

  When he landed a punch on Vaughn’s face, I’d had enough.

  Impulsively I jumped on Stu’s back.

  And quickly found myself thrown off and at Vaughn.

  I felt his strong arms bind around my waist as he pulled me away from an inevitable collision with my desk, and cursed like a sailor at the sight of my attacker sprinting out of the office and out of our grasp.

  “Are you okay?” Vaughn said, breathlessly, his hands roaming my body for injury.

  I jerked away, unnerved by how much I wanted his comfort right then. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine, you’re trembling.” He frowned at me.

  I narrowed my eyes on his jaw, looking for injury. There was a faint redness that I knew was going to look bad later if we didn’t get some ice on it. “I didn’t get hit in the face.”

  “Because I was there to stop him. What the hell were you thinking?” His eyes darted behind me and he stiffened.

  I glanced over my shoulder and my gut churned.

  My guests were crowded outside my office, sleepy, disgruntled, and concerned.

  “Everything all right?” one of my return visitors, Mr. Ingles, asked.

  “A small mishap,” I said cheerily, walking toward them as if I wasn’t currently wearing a silk camisole and shorts that showed off way too much of my body. Or that I was walking through a scattered mess of files and objects that had crashed to the floor during all the violent tussling. “But it’s quite all right.”

  “I’m calling the sheriff,” Vaughn said behind me, and even though I knew it was the right thing to do I squeezed my eyes closed and groaned.

  “The sheriff? What happened?”

  “Oh, dear. Are we safe?”

  I listened to my guests voicing their fears, and wished just once that I could let them think what they wanted, let them leave if they wanted! I was shaken, shocked, hurt, and, frankly, pissed way the fuck off.

  The last thing I wanted to do was play the ever-congenial innkeeper.

  But I had to.

  I opened my eyes and strode in among them. “Please, you are all perfectly safe. Nothing like this has ever happened before, but I can assure you that the intruder will not be returning and the inn will be completely secure. If you’d all like to return to your rooms while I deal with the sheriff—quietly, I promise. Of course I will deduct tonight’s room fee from your bill and all day dining tomorrow is free for all guests. On top of that I will issue you all a fifty percent discount if you choose to return to the inn in the future.”

  As I hoped it would, all my discounts and my freebies worked their magic and my guests trundled back up to their rooms murmuring to one another about the nuisance but also about Mona’s delicious muffins and crème brûlée.

  Poor Jay. The sous chef was going to have a tough first day in charge.

  Wrapping my arms around myself I stared at the entrance to the inn. Both doors were wide open.

  “Here.” Vaughn appeared at my side.

  I glanced at him, surprised to see he was offering me his leather jacket.

  Accepting it, I slipped it on, and got a giant, delicious whiff of his cologne as I did so. An inappropriate tingle shot through my breasts and I wrapped the too large jacket shut so he couldn’t see my suddenly pebbled nipples. “Thank you,” I whispered, staring at him.

  Vaughn stared back, concern in his beautiful eyes.

  He’d never looked at me like that before.

  I felt compelled to say, “I’m okay.”

  The concern melted under anger. “You’re not okay,” he snapped. “Was it a Devlin?”

  I nodded. “I’m positive it was Stu Devlin.”

  He cursed under his breath, the muscle in his jaw working. And then that anger was suddenly directed at me. “Why the hell didn’t you call the police instead of confronting him?”

  My lips parted in surprise at his attack. “For your information I was calling the police as I was confronting him. I didn’t think he’d throw me to the ground! I thought it was Stu being an ass. I didn’t think he’d hurt me.” I shivered at the thought.

  “Well now he’s a dead man,” Vaughn said icily.

  I felt a rush of sudden desire between my legs at the strangely protective vibe I was getting from him. Unsettled by the feeling, I shifted uncomfortably. “How did . . . Why were you here?”

  He glanced over at my open double doors. “I sometimes stroll down the boardwalk at night. When I was passing I saw your doors were open. He must have picked the lock.” Vaughn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I knew something was wrong so I came inside to check, and I heard the struggle coming from your office.”

  Thank God.

  Never in my life did I think I’d be grateful for Vaughn Tremaine’s presence but I was. In fact I was beyond grateful. I didn’t know if it was adrenaline or shock or what . . . but I was a turned-on kind of grateful.

  “Well . . . thanks,” I whispered, unable to look at him.

  If I looked at him he’d know I was imagining stripping that gorgeous dark red sweater right off of him. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the sweater, revealing tan, corded forearms.

  I had this thing about strong forearms and nice hands on a guy.

  Vaughn had both.

  I bit my lip at the sight and tried to pull myself together.

  What the hell!

  It’s the adrenaline, I assured myself.

  The sound of my garden gate swinging open sent relief through me. A much-needed distraction in the form of Sheriff King entered my inn.

  Jeff King had been voted into office the same year my mother’s good friend Jaclyn Rose was voted into office as mayor. Jeff was rugged, competent, extremely fair, an all-around good guy and sheriff. He was also widowed. His wife had passed away from cancer eight years ago and the women of Hartwell had been sniffing around him ever since. Without much luck.

  Dahlia had had a fling with him a number of years ago, and I think Jeff had genuinely liked her. Unfortunately, she was the wrong woman to start over with. I’d been frustrated, a little annoyed even, when Dahlia broke things off with him—until I remembered my friend was too good at punishing herself. And also that she gave her heart away to someone else a long time ago, even if she refused to admit it.

  The sight of Jeff made me feel instantly calmer.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel safe. I felt safe with Vaughn standing beside me. But I didn’t feel calm. There was nothing calming about being this attracted to a man I wasn’t even sure I liked very much.

  “Jeff,” I said. “I mean Sheriff.” I always forgot to call him that when he was duty.

  At six feet five, the tall, broad-shouldered police officer seemed to fill the entire space. And I was okay with that. I liked his powerful presence right then more than I could say.

  “Hey, Bailey.” Deputy Wendy Rawlins stepped into the inn, glancing around, taking everything in. Wendy had been part of our police force for twenty years, and was another good friend of my mom’s.

  I smiled, glad she was there, too. “Sorry to call you guys out so late.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” She frowned. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Crime scene?” Jeff asked.

  “Her office,” Vaughn replied. “I was taking a walk, saw her doors open, thought I’d check it out. And I caught Stu Devlin attacking her in her office.”

  Wendy scowled, swallowing what I knew were probably a few choice words, while Jeff looked visibly taken aback. “Stu Devlin. Positive ID?”

  “No.” I shook my head, furious. “He was wearing a mask.”

  “Then how do you know it was Stu?”

  “Oh come on, Sheriff, I’ve known him my whole life.”

  He sighed. “Show me to the office and expla
in everything from the start.”

  I did just that, and was weirdly comforted by the fact that Vaughn stayed by my side throughout the whole thing.

  Thirty minutes later, Jeff and Wendy had our statements and were standing in the garden of the inn.

  “I’ll have one of the deputies drop by tomorrow morning to get statements from your guests at breakfast,” Jeff said.

  “Thank God I already offered them free food,” I muttered, put out that my guests would have to be even more inconvenienced.

  Vaughn’s hand settled on my arm and I looked down at it, shocked by the touch, as I listened to him say to Jeff, “And Stu?”

  “All I can do is bring him in for questioning but without a positive ID from anyone I don’t have a lot to go on.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Tremaine,” Jeff warned. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I’ll do what I can. I promise. Bailey, is there anything else I should know that might help me? Bailey?”

  “Huh.” I jerked my head up from staring at Vaughn’s hand. “Oh. No. Not that I can think of right now. If I do, I’ll drop by the station.”

  “Get some sleep.” Jeff nodded and turned to leave.

  I waved good-bye to him and Wendy and then turned to Vaughn. I was more awake than ever, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I didn’t really want to be alone right now. “You should get back.”

  He scrutinized me for a moment, and as if he could read my mind he said, “I spotted a bottle of wine in your office that managed to escape destruction. Want to open it? It might calm your nerves.”

  I was more than a little surprised by the offer, and also touched. Apparently I was seeing the other side to Vaughn Tremaine that Jess swore was there. Maybe she was right. “Do you want to drink it on the beach? The water always soothes me.”

  He nodded, amiable.

  Actually amiable.

  “Sure.”

  I hid my shock as best as I could. “I . . . uh . . . let me change first.”

  Vaughn’s eyes drifted over my skimpy attire and he suddenly looked pissed off all over again. “You do that,” he muttered, striding off in the direction of my office.