The lists I could’ve sworn were rolled up in my pocket were scattered all over the gleaming floor. One blew across the room as I stepped in, and a chill slithered up my spine: all the windows were closed. There wasn’t another source of moving air in here.
I bent slowly to collect the papers, tense and on alert. When I heard the sound of a closing door, my heart pounded nearly out of my chest. Fortunately, the noise was immediately followed by the click of heels, and I realized it had to be Abby. No one else wore those kind of shoes to the work site. She wasn’t stupid; when she planned to be in the unfinished sections of the hotel, she conceded to sneakers, but otherwise, it was those prissy-girl shoes that made her legs look like they went on forever.
I reached for the last of the papers, but it slid just beyond my hand, almost as though someone had moved it away. I lost my balance and ended up sprawled on the floor. The heels came closer and stopped, their arrival punctuated by a sharp intake of breath.
“Oh, my God, Ryland, are you all right?”
I didn’t move right away, partly because I was embarrassed that she’d found me on the floor and partly—okay, mostly—because I wanted to see what she’d do. I hadn’t missed the fact that she’d slipped and called me by my first name again.
Abby knelt next to me, her knees against my ribcage and her hand touching my back. I lifted my head and pushed to sit up, but not before I caught the look in her eyes. It was alarm and worry, and the idea that Abby was worried about me gave me a feeling I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“I’m fine.” I rolled over and dropped to my ass. “I must’ve left these papers in here, and when I tried to pick them up, I, uh, slipped.” I crumpled them in my fist. “What’re you doing here, anyway?” My tone was sharper than I meant it to be.
She stood up, and I noticed her fingers rubbing together the fabric of her skirt, one of Abby’s few nervous tells. Knowing I made her as jumpy as she did me somehow made me feel a little better.
“I didn’t think anyone would be around, and I wanted to measure the windows in here. I forgot to do it this morning, and the interior designer needs the information right away.”
“Why does she need to know about the windows? Cooper’s taking care of that. He already has the measurements.” I rose to my feet, too, and Abby took one step back.
“What does Coop have to do with the window dressings?” She put her hands on her hips, which I knew indicated she was ready for battle. Great.
“Window dressings? What the hell’s that? Cooper’s making exact replicas of the shutters that would’ve be on these doors originally. We found a picture, remember?”
“I remember.” Abby pressed her lips together for a second, as though she was gathering her patience before going on. “I just don’t remember how that picture translated into the idea of Cooper making shutters. And I’m also a little confused about why you think you have anything at all to do with the interior design of the hotel. Your job is structural restoration. If you were a plastic surgeon, doing reconstructive surgery, you wouldn’t tell the woman you’d operated on what she could wear after you were done, would you? Same thing.”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t let her go around looking like a slut, with stupid curtains where there should be classic shutters.”
She rolled her eyes. “That whole analogy just broke down. The point is that you have no say in what goes into or onto the hotel once you’ve finished the rebuild. And the curtains I’m ordering are not going to look slutty, whatever that means in interior design.” She had that note in her voice, that almost bored, condescending I’m-the-expert-and-I’m-in-charge tone that made me want to punch one of our newly-finished walls.
“Look here, princess.” I heard the nasty in my tone, but I was way beyond caring. “I get that you think you’re running the show, that you’re the big, bad hotel heiress. But I’m telling you, I’m not letting you screw up this hotel. I’m not letting something that could be beautiful and timeless morph into some cookie-cutter boutique place. It’s not going to happen.”
“Listen to me, mister.” Her eyes flashed, her translucent cheeks flushed and her full lips moved with intensity. She should’ve been pissing me the hell off. But for some reason known to no man, something surged inside me. The feeling was close to anger, but at the same time, it was different. Powerful and hard and undeniable—it was desire. I was arguing with Abby, about ready to wring her neck, and yet all I really wanted to do was grab her by those slim shoulders, yank her closer to me and kiss her until she shut up.
Shit.
I stood there, staring at her, unmoving, while she yammered on. I don’t know what expression was on my face, but after a few minutes, she stopped talking. Her eyes narrowed, her forehead crinkled and she frowned.
“What’s the matter with you? Are you having a stroke or a seizure or something? You look weird.” She took a step closer. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“No.” The word came out in almost a whisper. “No head trauma.”
I watched, fascinated, as her face relaxed, her forehead smoothing out, eyes widening and softening. Her lips parted just enough for her tongue to creep out as the tip of it passed between. The sight snapped my thin band of control, and my hands reached forward, almost of their own accord.
I gripped her upper arms gently, my fingers rubbing the soft skin until she shivered. A soft breeze that came from God only knew where skimmed over us both, and suddenly I wanted. I wanted this woman so badly that I couldn’t take my next breath unless my mouth was on hers. Without thinking about it, operating on pure driven instinct, I lowered my head, at the same time as I drew her body closer to mine.
I was nearly touching her lips when she jerked back, twisting out of my hands.
“No.”
The single word slammed into me like a two-ton truck, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Abby hugged her arms around her middle and dropped her head, staring at the floor. Her back was moving up and down fast, and that gave it away: she’d been feeling it, too. Whatever this was between us, it wasn’t one-sided. But she’d pushed me away anyway.
“Why?” I managed to croak the question.
“It’s a bad idea, Ryland. A bad, bad idea. Getting involved with someone you work with is never good. And you—I—you hate me. You can’t stand me.”
“That’s not true.” My tongue was thick in my mouth. “I don’t hate you. And when you relax, Donavan, you’re very easy to like.”
“But we argue all the time.” She still wasn’t looking at me. “And I’m older than you.”
“Are you? Who the hell cares? What do a few years mean? And did you ever think that maybe we argue because we’re both passionate?”
“I don’t care. I can’t. I can’t do this.”
A bolt of lightening split the dark sky, and for that moment I saw Abby’s face clearly. Pain and panic were etched there, and involuntarily I stumbled back. I couldn’t push her, that much was apparent, but neither was I going to let her get away with stupid excuses. I’d never known this chick to back down from a challenge, not when it was tossed right in front of her.
“Are you scared, Donavan? Is that it?”
I expected a flair of temper or even a sneer. Instead, she lifted her gaze to mine and answered in a voice filled with anguish.
“Of course I am.”
Before I could say anything else, she turned and sprinted from the room, her shoes clattering over the floor. I took off after her, only because the rain was coming down in sheets now, and the lightening was putting on a terrifying show. No way in hell she should’ve been outside.
But the door slammed behind her. I gripped the knob, but it stuck, refusing to turn. It’d never done this before; the whole doorknob mechanism was new, and there was no logical reason why it wasn’t working. I gave one more hard jerk, and it finally gave way.
By then, of course, Abby was long gone. I assumed she’d parked in her regular spot by the river, and I hoped she’d made it b
ack to the car. Going after her at this point would only upset her more, and I’d already done a bang-up job of that.
A gust of wind blew through the open door and across the foyer. At the same time, softer air swirled around me, carrying the scent of flowers, just as I’d smelled before. I couldn’t tell if the touch was meant to be comforting or accusatory.
“I just got carried away. Bad idea, I get it. I won’t try it again.” I spoke aloud, as though someone could hear.
Something rippled over the hotel, a noise or a vibration. It reminded me of my mother’s frustration when I was being pig-headed; it was as though whatever or whoever was here didn’t want me to give up on Abby Donavan.
“You heard her. She’s scared. She can’t see past the fear.” Even as I said it, I felt an odd kind of despondency.
From down the hall, a whispered sigh reached my ears
She will.
“WELL, LOOK WHAT THE CAT dragged in.” Alex Nelson came around the counter from the kitchen and pulled me into a quick, tight hug. “For someone who threatened us with stalking, you’ve been making yourself pretty damn scarce, beautiful.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I squeezed him back and kissed his bristly cheek. “The Riverside’s been keeping me busy.” I let go of Alex and pulled out one of the chintz-covered barstools. “Plus, I figured it was a good idea to give you guys some space, let you find your own way here for a while. How’s it going?”
Alex leaned his elbows on the countertop and grinned at me. “It’s been amazing. You know, when Jude offered this to Cal and me, I thought to myself, how clichéd is this? I mean, the gay couple running a B&B. Seriously. And then Cal said to me, ‘Who’re we kidding? Cliché or no, it’s living the dream.’ And he was right. This is exactly what I’ve always wanted to do. And we’re together, in the same city—hell, in the same damn house—so you won’t hear this boy complaining. Not for real, anyway.”
“Tell the truth, babe. You’re in hog heaven.” Cal came down the steps, carrying a basket of sheets. “Hey, Abby. How’re you doing?”
“Can’t complain.” I smiled at him. I didn’t know Cal as well as I did Alex, even though I’d met them at almost the same time. Alex was one of those people who was an instant friend; he was gregarious, outgoing and engaging. Cal took a little longer to warm up. Once I’d gotten past his guarded exterior, though, I’d understood why Alex had fallen head over heels for the art dealer from Savannah. Of course, the fact that Cal was tall and built, with dark hair and huge brown eyes that seemed fathoms deep, didn’t hurt either. Next to Alex’s sunny blondness, they looked like an ad for a high-class men’s fashion magazine.
“I went by the Riverside last week. Looks like she’s moving along well. Do you have an opening date set yet?” Alex poured each of us a tumbler of sparkling water and added a twist of lime.
“Tentative, but not announced. We’re not close enough to put the final date in stone. The finishing crew arrives Monday, and once they get down to business, we should be able to gauge things better.”
“Sounds good.” Cal lifted up his basket and jerked his head toward the back of the house. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I need to get these sheets in. Be right back.”
I noticed that Alex’s eyes followed his boyfriend as he navigated the tables and disappeared down the hall. Nudging him on the arm, I smirked. “So I guess it’s safe to say all is well in paradise?”
He sighed, his lips curling. “You could say that. Hell, Ab, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I never thought this could happen for me, but here I am, all domesticated and shit. Part of me keeps waiting for Cal to get spooked and disappear, but he seems . . . contented. I think he loves the Cove.”
“What’s not to love?” I sipped my water. “Beautiful beaches, friendly people, and warm weather.”
“You’re starting to sound like a local, kiddo. Are you settling down?”
I lifted one shoulder. “If I can manage it, yes. That’s why I’m so excited about the Riverside. It’ll let me stay in town and still work at an upscale hotel. There’s room for growth, if Jude and Logan decide to expand the branding at all. Plus, it feels like home. I can’t wait to move in and make it mine.”
“Uh huh.” Alex fixed me with a teasing smile. “And how are things going with the hunky contractor? You two still bickering?”
My face heated before I could help it, and Alex pushed against the tiled counter to stand up. “Ah, what’s this? Are you blushing, Abigail Donavan? And just what is it—or who is it—making your cheeks go all rosy and your eyes shine?”
“Shut up, they’re not.” I pressed my palms against the warm skin of my face. “It’s just hot in here.”
“Not really. But I’d say someone’s definitely hot. Is it you, Ab? Are you lusting after the luscious Ryland?”
I dropped my forehead against the heel of my hand. “No. He’s just—no. We fight constantly. I thought he hated me, but then last night, he—” I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Oh, no, cupcake. You can’t leave it at that. You gotta share the details.”
“Alex, leave her alone.” Cal came back into the room. He patted my back as he passed. “If Abby wants to tell us why you mentioning the, uh, restoration specialist with the killer six-pack makes her blush like a tomato, she’ll do it in her own time.” He shot me a wide and sunny smile.
“And just how do you know Ryland has a killer six-pack?” Alex quirked an eyebrow, but the twinkle in his eye told me he was teasing.
“Hey, I’ve got eyes. I might’ve seen him working around Cooper’s place without his shirt on.” He snaked an arm around Alex’s shoulder. “I love you, but I’m not dead.”
“You know, maybe Ryland’s gay. I mean, damn. I love you, too, baby, but that dude’s easy on the eyes.”
“He’s not gay.” I spoke more definitively than I meant without thinking about it.
“Aha!” Alex pounced on my words like a cat on a mouse. “How do you know?”
“I . . .” Scrambling for an excuse, I tripped over my own tongue. “I just don’t get that feeling, you know?”
“Oh, really? So did you not get that feeling when his tongue was down your throat, or is it just a hunch?”
My mouth fell open. “His tongue was not—no one’s tongue has been anywhere. On me, I mean.”
“But something did happen.” Alex leaned toward me. “You’re trying not to tell us something. I can see it in your eyes.”
“It’s nothing. And I don’t want to talk about it.” I pushed my glass away and crossed my arms.
“Hmmm. Something’s inconsistent here. Either it’s nothing, which means . . . well, nothing. Or you don’t want to talk about it, which means it’s something. Because you can’t not want to talk about nothing.”
“You lost me several nothings ago.” I stood up. “And if you’re going to harass me, I’m leaving. I can go hang out at Matt’s store without anyone giving me a hard time.”
“Abby!” Cal snagged my arm. “We’re sorry. We were just teasing you.” He glared at his partner. “Some of us tend to get carried away.”
Alex had the good grace to look contrite. “Sorry, Ab. I really was just playing. I’m used to harassing Ali and Meghan. I only mess with the people I love, if it makes you feel any better.”
I leaned the backs of my legs against the stool, not sitting back down but not stalking out yet, either. “I’ve never had anyone tease me like that.” I glanced from Cal to Alex. “I didn’t have brothers, and I never even really had that many friends growing up. My sister—well, we weren’t close. So I guess I was overreacting a little.”
Cal wrapped me in a big hug. “Don’t sweat it. Just know that Alex and I are here to be your big brothers now. That might mean we annoy you sometimes, but we also have your back all the time. And no one else better give you any shit.” His dark brows drew together, and I couldn’t help giggling. Cal might’ve been able to pull off intimidating with other people, but I knew he
was a teddy bear.
“Okay, enough of the schmaltz.” Alex bumped his hip against mine. “Seriously, now. Ryland’s not being a problem, is he? I thought you two had worked out your issues.”
I slumped against the chair. “I thought so, too. Then we got into a spat a few weeks back, and ever since things have been tense again.”
“What did you fight over?” Cal crossed into the kitchen and picked an apple out of the basket.
“Oh.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “My ex-boyfriend.”
Alex made a small strangled noise. “You fought over your ex?”
I kicked myself mentally. This was opening up a whole new can of worms. “Yes. My ex-boyfriend . . . he screwed up my last job, up in Boston. I told Ryland about it, and then he found out Zachary had applied to run the restaurant down here at the Riverside.”
“Oh, hell no.” Alex put his hands on hips, frowning. “You’re not hiring him, are you?”
“God, how stupid do you all think I am? Of course not.” I paused. “But Ryland got pissy because I said I wasn’t going to throw away Zachary’s resumé. I was just curious about why he’d be interested in this job, when he actually ended up with a pretty sweet gig after he ruined my career.”
“Did you ever figure it out?” Alex sounded like Ryland—angry that I’d even care about the whys.
“Not really. I made some calls and found out he’s still working for the same hotel I’d heard about. My contacts said they thought he’d been lying low since he left Boston. So I still don’t have any idea why he’d want to trade that in for the job here.”
Cal nodded. “I understand why you’re wary about his motives, but I think I have to agree with the contractor and my guy here. Better to leave it alone.” He paused a beat. “But Ryland was mad that you might see your ex. Hmm. The plot thickens.”
“There’s no plot.” I tried to be both emphatic and casual at the same time, but I only came off sounding wishy-washy.
The Path Page 8
