Her Unexpected Detour (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  What was his cousin playing at?

  Oh sure, Kayla could insist all day long that Miles’s intentions were harmless or selfless. But Brent knew his cousin better. Miles never acted without reason. Usually, the reason was centered around self gain. But what could he possibly gain from convincing Kayla to stay at the inn? Was she his next romantic target?

  Not likely. While Miles loved to consider himself a ladies’ man, he was much more prone to being one-and-done when it came to dates with out-of-towners. To bring her here for an extended stay just didn’t fit Miles’s M.O.

  So, why bring Kayla back at all?

  The front door creaked open behind him, then banged shut. A quick glance back found Miles approaching. It took everything Brent had not to leave his post on the stepladder and greet his cousin with a solid right hook. But that would only add fuel to Kayla’s fiery temper, something he didn’t want to do. One slap a decade was more than enough.

  “You calling it a day?”

  “Yeah,” Miles said. “If I stare at that screen much longer, I’ll go cross-eyed.”

  “You’ve been at it a lot here lately. In there planning world domination or what?”

  “I always put in a lot of time at the office,” Miles said. “You’re just not usually around to notice.”

  “I notice more than you think.”

  Miles frowned. “Meaning?”

  Brent studied his cousin for a moment before answering. Miles’s face gave away nothing. No mischief, no ulterior motives. And yet, Brent sensed he was definitely up to something.

  “Why’d you bring her back here, Miles?”

  “Kayla? I thought you were behind schedule.”

  “Of course I’m behind,” Brent said, climbing down off the ladder. “I’ve been behind all spring. How is her being here supposed to make things any better? She’s corporate America, man. Not exactly the caliber worker I need help from right now.”

  “She said she had some experience with landscaping.” Miles looked out over the front yard. “And from the looks of things, I’d say I have to believe her.”

  Brent’s gaze followed his cousin’s. He’d been too pissed off earlier to bother inspecting the work she’d done. Now he scanned a critical eye across the yard…and was stunned by the view.

  The flower beds bordering the front drive had been cleared of last year’s old growth and neatly edged. So had the beds along the front walk and half the length of the porch. Shrubs had been pruned and clematis restrung to the lamppost along the front drive. If Brent didn’t know better, he would have guessed a professional landscape crew had spent a day in the yard.

  “She asked to have mulch delivered tomorrow,” Miles continued. “So don’t take the Gator out—I said she could use it. Though, after whatever you said to her earlier, you might want to steer clear of her while she’s behind the wheel.”

  Brent shook his head, still in awe of the view. “I need to give the princess more credit.”

  “Maybe you need to give us all more credit.” Miles gestured toward Brent’s cheek. “You hurt yourself today?”

  “Uh, yeah. Wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing,” he said, rubbing a hand absently over the spot where Kayla had slapped him. “It’s nothing.”

  “Well, try to be more careful, will ya? I didn’t bring in extra help so you could ease up any.” Miles threw him a grin, then turned to leave. But Brent’s curiosity wasn’t quite sated.

  “What did Ruby say about that offer you were telling me about this weekend?”

  “Nothing, I haven’t mentioned it to her yet. Been going back and forth between our attorneys, trying to work out the best deal possible.” His cousin lowered his voice and cast a wary look toward the front door. “Was waiting until then to bring it up.”

  “Or waiting for a time when I wouldn’t be around.” Or be too distracted.

  Miles’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care if you’re there or not. It’s her inn, her future. Her decision.”

  “That’s right.” Brent walked over to where his cousin stood. “Her decision, not ours.”

  “Which I’ve always respected, so don’t make me out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Brent. Look, we’re all doing our damnedest to keep this place from going belly-up, but it’s not enough. The economy, the age of this place…the odds just aren’t in our favor. If a solid offer comes along, she’d be a fool not to take it.”

  “There’s got to be something we’re missing, something that could help get the inn back on the map.”

  “Now that you mention it…”

  Brent cast him a wary look. “What?”

  Miles dug a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and showed it to him. “You see this?”

  “Cute. Some guest’s kid leave that behind?”

  “No, smart-ass, I drew that. It’s an ad I was toying with, in case this offer falls through.”

  “So?”

  “So your little girlfriend just dissected it without even trying. Gave me pointers I plan to run with and hope to turn into gold.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Brent said with a frown.

  “Oh, that’s right—you’ve sworn off dating. Well, news flash, big guy: she’s into you. And if you’re really looking for a way to save the inn? She’s upstairs in her suite, washing you right out of her hair.”

  Brent grimaced as the image of Kayla’s face, full of rage and defiance, came to mind—now was definitely not the time to go asking for help. “I don’t think she’s as into me as you think.”

  “And I think you’re blind. You asked why I brought her back? I brought her back for you. Because she’s the first girl I’ve seen affect you in years. And you seem to have the same effect on her, too.”

  “Affect me? Only because I keep running into her.”

  “Whatever. Look, even if you plan to push her away like all the others, think about this: Kayla could be the exact thing we’ve been looking for, the spark that could bring the inn back to life. So don’t just walk away in a huff like usual. Think about how her advertising prowess could help Ruby, help all of us.”

  Brent stared at Miles as the truth of his words sank in. He was right—Kayla was the first woman to get past his usual line of defenses in a long, long time. Since Nikki. That’s why he’d been trying so hard to push her away, to keep his distance. But what if Miles was right? What if she could help save the inn? Save Ruby’s hopes and dreams? Hell, save his own? Who was he to ignore the virtual gift bestowed upon them?

  All it would cost him was his heart.

  He let out a long sigh. “Wow, coz. Nothing like setting the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

  “Anytime, man. Anytime. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get ready for. And you…” He reached out and patted Brent’s arm. “Have some thinking to do.”

  “Lucky me.”

  His gaze shifted back to the second floor. Too bad he wasn’t lucky. Not one bit.

  Kayla sat across from her brother at a nearby Dairy Queen an hour later, each with a red plastic spoon and large Blizzard before them. His offer to rescue her from the inn for a few hours had instantly lifted her spirits, and she’d never been one to turn down ice cream. Ever.

  “So how’s your roommate feeling?”

  “I stopped over earlier to check on him, and he still looks green. Whatever Jeremy caught, it’s one nasty bug. I’m starting to wonder if we’ll need to condemn the place after this.”

  Kayla laughed. “I don’t know who I feel worse for: Jeremy, or the bathroom.”

  “Right? And I’ve been stuck at Heather’s because Rex walked into the shop this morning and found everything covered with flying ants. Had to call the exterminator; they bombed the place.”

  “Wow, and I thought my luck was bad.” Kayla chuckled. “So, how are things with you and Heather?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

  Kayla grinned. Tommy had never been one to kiss and tell. Then again, she was his sister, aft
er all. He changed the subject.

  “So, any word from the board?”

  “No, but it’s still early. I’m not even sure when they’ll meet to review my little boo-boo.”

  “You really want to go back and work there, after this BS suspension?”

  “Do I have a choice? I’ve got bills to pay, Tommy. And I love my job. Well, I did, anyway.”

  “I say you tell them to shove it and go find a new one. At a place that actually respects you.”

  Kayla laughed. “Me, just up and quit at Wayne? Yeah, that’d go over well with Dad.”

  She’d been so excited when her father’s old college roomie granted her an interview at Wayne Advertising right after graduation. Thrilled to discover Jacober was not only the hiring manager, but also the head of the company. It seemed like a brilliant stroke of luck. But over time the connection between the two men had become shackles around her wrists. To leave Wayne would be a serious letdown to her father, not to mention a major source of worry she refused to inflict on him. And without another job already lined up, she couldn’t afford to walk away even if she wanted to.

  Besides, Kayla Daniels was no quitter.

  She stabbed at her Blizzard then froze. Isn’t that exactly what she’d done this afternoon after Brent yelled at her? And Friday, back at work? What was wrong with her lately?

  “Speaking of Dad,” Tommy said, “when was the last time you called him?”

  “Yesterday morning,” she said, preoccupied. “Why?”

  “Well, he called earlier to say hi, then asked if he could talk to you for a minute.”

  “Oh crap. What did you say?”

  “I lied and said you and Heather had gone shopping, and that you’d call him when you got back. But I don’t think he was buying it.”

  “Great. So now what do I tell him?”

  “How about the truth?”

  “No. I refuse to stress him out with all of this.”

  “Kay, it’s Dad. You don’t have to handle him with kid gloves, for crying out loud. It’s not like he’s made of glass.”

  “Neither was mom, but we both know how that ended.”

  The words slipped out before she realized it and hung in the air between them. Tommy dropped his spoon into the cup before him and sighed. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried that stress might—”

  “Yes, I am. And it’s my job to see that it doesn’t.”

  Tommy frowned. “You can’t hover over him or try to shield him from stress or bad news forever. Those things are a part of life.”

  “Yeah, well, I think he’s gone through enough bad news for one lifetime. And shielding him from this little fiasco of mine can’t hurt anything. I’ll find a way to make things right at work, and he’ll be none the wiser.”

  “But he’d want to know, to comfort you or help you find a way to make it right. That’s what dads do.”

  Truth rang clear in his words. Growing up, their father had been a loving, supportive man. After their mother had been diagnosed with cancer, though, the sparkle in his eyes began to fade. When she passed away, the jovial, exuberant side of their father went to the grave with her. It’d taken years for him to climb out of there, longer than either of his kids. Kayla hated the idea of any setbacks.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said.

  “Of course I’m right. Just call him, okay? Tell him what’s going on. Who knows what he’ll do if you don’t?”

  Kayla shot him a grin, then dug out another scoop of Blizzard. What would her father say if she told him about her suspension when she called later? He’d probably insist she march back into work and demand to be reinstated. Which she would, once the Follinger bid’s design work was completed. If it turned out half as good as she planned, they’d have to pay her for the week. Or promote her.

  Only one way to find out—she needed to get back to the inn and start drafting ideas on how best to rally her team. Kayla didn’t need her dad to pull strings, she just had to stop sulking, pull up her big girl panties, and focus. No more letting the Checkerberry’s sullen, grouchy handyman distract her, no matter how desirable he may be.

  “Fine. But right now, I have bigger things to worry about.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  She threw her brother a sly grin. “Like how I’m going to convince your girlfriend to let me borrow some clothes that might get a bit dirty the next few days.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brent stood on the third rung of his stepladder, his gaze revolving between a can of primer and the woman at the far corner of the building doing her damnedest to ignore him. Yesterday, he’d have been fine with that. More than fine. But that was before he learned she might be able to help save the inn.

  He dipped his brush into the primer, then dragged it along the porch wall just below the ceiling, wishing for the dozenth time he hadn’t been such an ass to her yesterday. Sure, he’d been beyond frustrated to find her here, but she wasn’t to blame. Nor was Miles, though Brent would never say that out loud. No, the outburst was all on him, his anger boiled over from allowing himself to grow too fond of her, to get so close to letting her in.

  Now she probably hated him for it.

  Which, at the time, had been the response he’d been looking for. It was safer for him if she was mad, safer if she pushed him away. But safer wouldn’t keep the inn open, and taking care of his grandmother took precedence over protecting his heart.

  Damn it.

  He dipped his brush back into the primer and sighed. Why him? Why couldn’t she have collided with Miles? Been into the guy who loved women being into him?

  It had been a surprising boost to his ego when she’d chosen him over his playboy cousin, though. Brent cast another glance in her direction, and caught a sneak peek of cleavage as she bent forward to retrieve her trowel. As she walked around the corner and out of sight, his mind went right back to their night together, the way she’d—

  “Will you be joining us for lunch today, dear?”

  “Son of a—” He teetered on the ladder in surprise. Only by some small miracle did he manage not to fall or drop his paint supplies. Once he was sure the hammering in his chest wasn’t the precursor to a full-out heart attack, he turned his gaze upon his stealthy grandmother. “Sorry, Ruby. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “I’m not surprised, what with your heart pounding so loudly for Miss Daniels.”

  “My heart is pounding because you scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  “Hmm, perhaps.” She looked up at him, too wise for her own good. “Though after the way you’ve been straining all morning to catch another peek at her from up there, I would have guessed differently.”

  Busted. Not good, since his grandmother had always been a hopeless romantic. Brent did his best to act indifferent on the subject as he drew his angled brush along the top of the porch wall. “And I thought you always said you’d never turn into one of those old biddies who like to peek out windows and watch people all day long.”

  Ruby answered with an unladylike snort. “I’ve hardly stooped to any such level. Now, if you’re done insulting your elders, will you kindly answer my original question?”

  “Your original question…” Brent lowered his brush, dipped it into the small tray of paint atop his ladder, and tried like mad to think of what that question even was. As usual, once Kayla came up in conversation, his thoughts scattered. It was incredibly frustrating, to say the least.

  “Yes, yes, about lunch, dear. Will you be joining us or not?”

  “Oh.” Brent cast another glance in Kayla’s direction. Lunch would be a good time to break the ice. Test the waters and see if there was any hope of an amicable reconciliation between them. If he could just get her to smile again, earn even the tiniest bit of her trust back, maybe that would lead to more. Then again, if she was furious with him and he went and said the wrong thing… “Uh, no. Thank you, but I really need to knock out as much as I can while the weather holds. Chance of rain in the
forecast later this week.”

  “Hmmpf. Chance of your heart shriveling up from inactivity, too,” she grumbled in a voice so low Brent wasn’t sure it was intended to reach his ears.

  He sighed. Shriveled up sounded a whole lot more appealing than being trampled. Though after the way Kayla hadn’t given him so much as a wayward glance all morning, maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe she’d agree to help Ruby but give him the cold shoulder the rest of her stay. Then whatever appeal she had to him would slowly fade away.

  Riiight.

  Brent set his brush down at the edge of the tray, then stepped down off the ladder. All that reaching—reaching, not neck craning—had managed to put one hell of a kink in his back. He bent to stretch, then twisted slowly to the left and then to the right. A loud pop sounded in his lower back, and Brent felt instant relief.

  Well, in his back anyway. Once his feet had hit the ground his anxiety level had spiked. Why was the idea of talking to Kayla—talking, not even something difficult like flirting or seducing—scaring him so badly?

  Because maybe it’s just not meant to be, said a voice in the back of his mind. The voice of doubt. Of fear.

  The voice, he realized, he’d been listening to for far too long.

  With a scowl he started forward, intent on breaking the silence. But as he rounded the corner of the building, Brent was surprised to see Kayla kneeling before a bed of daffodils, head bowed in an almost reverent gesture. Indecision slowed him to a stop. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to try and talk to her after all.

  But the clock was ticking—could he afford to wait?

  Tuesday had gone from bad to worse for Kayla. First, she’d awoken all hot and bothered after a spicy dream involving her and a certain handyman, naked in the bed of his damned Silverado under a moonlit sky. Then, as if to add salt to that wound, she’d been stuck working within spitting distance of the hunky grouch. Thankfully, she had plenty of work to keep her busy. Too bad it had done little to silence her mind. Especially with the daffodils in bloom.