by K. M. Scott
This time, I cut him off before he could tell any more lies. “Bought it together? You put up less than a fifth of the money, Dustin. You and I both know it was me who found that place and me who paid for the majority of it.”
“Be that as it may, we owned it together, and I need money now, so you’re just going to have to deal with it. Now if we can come to an agreement without the lawyers, maybe we can work something out for you.”
I clenched my fist in anger and struggled not to whip the damned phone at the wall across from me. “Cut the patronizing bullshit, Dustin. I’m going to fight you tooth and nail on this. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be wishing you took the five hundred thousand I offered you. Fuck you and your gold digging bitch. That place is mine. Deal with it.”
Before Dustin could get another word in, I pressed END and pitched the phone onto the bed. The nerve of that asshole to talk to me like he had any power over me or my home. If there was any justice in the world, he’d get hit by a bus on the way to his stupid attorney.
Needing some fresh air, I grabbed my jacket and marched down the stairs. The front desk clerk, the kind woman from earlier, tried to say hello but I brushed her off. I couldn’t deal with talking to anyone at that moment and simply needed the fresh autumn chill to clear my head. I gave her a slight nod and hoped she understood before pushing out the front door and letting the cold air blast me in the face.
CHAPTER SIX
Zane
An all-too-brief nap helped some of my anger from earlier ebb away, so I headed back down to the dining room. It was impossible to spend any real time in that bedroom anyway. With all the quaint bullshit my mother had left in that room I was stuck living in for a year, it was like living in a damned dollhouse. And if I stubbed my toe on that fucking green ottoman at the bottom of the bed one more time, I was going to punch a hole in those ugly blue and white wallpapered walls.
I took a seat at my table in the corner of the dining room and stared out the window at the woman from the day before, the one who had confronted me in the hallway while I yelled at that maid. As I watched her, I had to admit she looked good. She paced back and forth through the trees, and each step she took made her hips sway back and forth. With every step, I was a little more mesmerized.
It didn’t hurt that the only women I ever saw in the inn were old ladies or married moms, who although they loved flirting with me in the hallway weren’t offering any real action. I hadn’t seen a truly stunning woman like the one in front of me in what felt like an eternity.
She paced the courtyard in jeans tight enough that they could have been painted on and a sweater that perfectly fit her body. Idly, I thought to myself about how nice it would be to bend her over and peel those jeans off to reveal whatever panties she was wearing.
Or maybe she wasn’t wearing any at all. Even better.
The top half wasn’t bad either. She was a little smaller in the chest than I typically preferred, but nothing I couldn’t work with. After all, not everyone could be as perfect as the California girls I had grown accustomed to. Granted, a majority of them out on the West Coast weren’t real, but hell, who cared, right? As long as there was a handful I could be happy, even better if I had more to dive into.
I finished my sandwich and after a few more thoughts of burying my face and every other part of me in the woman outside, I decided to go chat her up. At the very least, talking to her might bring some happiness to my miserable day. It was better than sitting around inside that musty old inn. I was a red-blooded American male, and chatting some woman up was bound to be better than doing nothing, and if my luck with the ladies held up, I’d have her underneath me in my bed before the sun went down.
The bitter cold air hit me as soon as I walked outside, and I immediately regretted not bringing a coat as wind whipped its way through my shirt. My sweater was barely enough to fend off the chill of the Vermont afternoon, something my California blood hadn’t yet gotten used to. My brain was still stuck in the mode that said if the sun was shining, then it must be warm out. Vermont was making a fool out of me over and over again.
“Why does everything about this state have to suck so much?” I mumbled, crossing my arms to conserve body heat as I hurried to catch up with her as she walked through the woods toward the small bridge over the stream that wound around the property.
Women always wanted to go there when they came to the inn. They’d take pictures on it with their friends and boyfriends, and all I could ever think of was the splinters I used to get trying to paint the fucking thing as a teenager. One time I got the wrong red from the store, and my mother nearly had an emotional breakdown saying visitors coming back from last year wouldn’t think things were the same. Why everything had to stay the same, I had no idea.
Most of the inn was like that for me, memories of doing things I didn’t want to after coming home from school. I didn’t have fond memories of the place, except for the few times my mother and I had enjoyed a nice day together, but I could count those days on one hand. More often than not, she’d been too busy with the inn to see me and had just spoiled me with money instead of attention.
I shook away that thought and focused on the good looking woman in front of me, not wanting to let old memories get in the way of my favorite part of wooing a woman.
The chase.
“Hey! Hold up there!” I called out, but she ignored me.
Never one to tire of a good hunt, I called out again, “Hey! What’s your name?” as I stepped onto the opposite side of the bridge from her.
Quickly, she spun around, and the stern look on her face told me she wasn’t thrilled to see me.
“What?” she asked, practically snapping at me.
And at that moment, my past collided with the present, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Becca?”
Was it possible Becca Fox was standing there in front of me after all this time? It had been years since the last time I saw her, but even though she looked a little older, she still made my heart skip a beat.
I could tell by the way she glared at me that she wasn’t happy to see me, but it didn’t matter. My interest had been piqued watching her walk away from me, and I wasn’t the type to give up on something I wanted just because a woman caught a little attitude with me. Besides, I liked them feisty. There was something intensely sexy about a woman who put up a fight and made you work for it instead of giving it up so quickly. Easy women were around as far as the eye could see in California, and I’d quite literally had my fill of many of them.
Plus, I knew full well that beneath that angry façade existed a woman who knew how to please a man. Memories of our brief time together rushed through my mind.
Oh yeah. She definitely knew the ways to please a man.
“You’re that guy berating that maid yesterday, aren’t you?” she asked with all the disgust she could muster.
“I think we could at least be civil, Becca,” I said, leaning against the bridge and silently cursing out the wind for its decision to start blowing its icy chill down my back at that very moment. It was a little hard to keep up the smooth act when I wanted to clutch my arms to my chest and shiver.
A look of recognition finally filled her eyes, and I waited for her to give me one of her beautiful smiles. I still thought of that way she lit up a room whenever she walked in. I took a step forward after she didn’t respond and opened my mouth to say my name and that I was the owner of The Gilford House Inn, but she cut me off by putting her hand up.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t bother. I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering, Zane. I’ve had my fill of your type, thank you. I have zero interest in talking to you or anyone like you when I’m trying to enjoy a nice vacation. You already ruined yesterday. Don’t you think you can butt out of today for me?” she said, anger dripping from every word.
She turned to walk away, but I’d had enough of people telling me who I was that day. I wasn’t just some as
shole, and I didn’t need every single woman I spoke with to keep telling me I was.
“My type? You don’t even know me anymore. You have no idea who I am these days. I could be the best guy in the world, but you want to judge me off of one bad moment from the hallway yesterday with a staff member who can’t do her damned job, ever,” I said, my tone rapidly shifting from flirty to fuck you.
Where did everyone get off being so nasty to me?
Becca stopped dead, and even that perfect ass in those jeans wasn’t enough to keep a smile on my face when she stormed towards me until she was directly in front of me.
“I know you, Zane. You haven’t changed a bit. You have too much of some things in life and not enough of others, and it’s those other things that would make you a great person. That was always the case. As it is, you’re obnoxious and cruel to others, and for that, I’ve got no time.”
Angrily, I stood there with nothing to say. It was a stunning indictment and more than a little fucking rude if anyone asked me.
Which, of course, they hadn’t.
All I had done was try to talk to her and be civil. There was no need for her to be such an utter bitch about it. I didn’t stop her as she marched away off into the wooded area next to the inn, and when I finally shook myself out of my shock at being told off for the second time that day, she was about a hundred yards away.
But I wasn’t going to let her talk to me like that and just walk way, so I ran after her to get my say in. Just like everything else about that damned place, she was all wrong. Just another one in a long line of people who felt like they could just judge me without taking even a minute to get to know who I was. She had no idea who the real me was now when I wasn’t in a place I hated like that stupid inn. I was a good guy, and it seemed like everyone had just decided otherwise, no matter how nice I tried to be.
When I finally caught up with her, she refused to stop walking away, so I put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face me. Her look of surprise amused me for a moment before it turned to rage, but I didn’t intend to leave without getting my say in.
“Hey, Becca, I don’t know what made you so bitter, but nobody talks to me like that. You don’t know me anymore or what I’ve been through. You assume you do, but you’re way off. So how about this? Drop the shrew routine and talk to me like a normal adult does, okay? There’s no need for you to go around treating people like garbage.”
She looked me up and down, and for a moment I thought I had won, but then she set her jaw and said, “Way off, huh? So you aren’t the same guy who left me high and dry nine years ago? The guy who I spent an entire summer with who just disappeared one day without even a goodbye? A wealthy, trust fund type who hates having to do this kind of menial work like dealing with blue collar workers and the unwashed masses? Let me guess. You took over this place when your mother died, and you’re counting the days until you get to jet off to points unknown and leave this all behind. You’ll jump in your Beemer and race off, never thinking of the people here or this inn again. Am I close?”
The truth sounded so much harsher coming out of her mouth than when I thought about what would happen after my year of imprisonment was up here. No doubt about it.
But I couldn’t let her know that her words had stung. I took a step back, as I shook my head no, and replied, “I’m not that guy anymore, and this place is all I have left of my mother, other than memories.”
Her mouth dropped open, and I knew I had won. Sure, using my dead mother as a pawn in an argument wasn’t the nicest thing I had ever done, but there was no need for her to know that. Happy with getting the last word, I turned and strode off to the warmth of the inn I hated.
Even though I didn’t like admitting it, Becca’s words had hurt me. It irritated me to no end since it was rare that anyone got under my skin, nevermind some woman I didn’t even know anymore. I tried to shake it off, but something about it stuck with me.
As I walked up the stairs and pushed open the front door to the inn, I had the same thought that I’d had since the moment I’d found out I had to run the place. I didn’t belong here. Nothing about it suited me, and I was constantly at odds with everything and everyone around me. I wanted to be in sunny California with a tan woman beneath me and a drink in my stomach, not shivering outside in the frigid air of the Vermont countryside being told once again how big a dick I could be.
The staff rushed around doing their jobs as I stood in the lobby. I had to admit I could never understand why my mother had never been able to accept the simple fact that I didn’t belong there. Now that she wasn’t alive, nothing was keeping me at the inn.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I stood to inherit millions if I kept the inn the success my mother had left it. That’s what kept me here. Not love for the place my mother had adored or anything to do with memories of her there.
I walked past the front desk and upstairs towards my room, believing for the first time that I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t think I could keep the inn where it needed to be. It was one thing when I didn’t want to do it, but for the first time since old man Worthington told me what I’d have to do for the next year to get my inheritance, I began to think I simply couldn’t.
My mother and I hadn’t been close, but to deny that she had run the place well would have been too big a lie even for me to tell. It had been a long time since I felt like a failure, and I didn’t relish the feeling at all. I was the type of guy who knew what he did well and kept to it. What was the point of doing something if I wasn’t going to excel at it?
I moved through the rest of the day like a zombie, signing paperwork and barely listening when people spoke to me. By the time the sun set and I could retreat to my room, I felt only slightly better, but Becca stayed on my mind. I showered and flopped down on my bed and the thoughts of the time I had spent with her started rolling in.
She came toward me with a cute walk that was part flirty girl and part sexy woman, and I felt myself get hard just thinking about us together two nights ago. Becca Fox didn’t come off like anyone who would have a one-night stand. Her eyes had an innocence to them I’d noticed from across the room at Candy’s party. It was impossible to miss.
So when I succeeded in getting her into that tiny bedroom with me, no one could have been more surprised than me. The sex had been mind blowing, and for one of the first times ever, I wanted more than just that one time.
Becca stopped where I stood in front of the theater and smiled. “I half expected you not to show tonight, Zane.”
“Why?” I asked, feigning surprise that she would say that.
To be honest, I was pretty damn amazed myself. When she suggested seeing a movie when I said I wanted to see her again, my first instinct was to say no. I didn’t do the dating thing usually, but for Becca, I could make the effort because I knew the return would be worth it.
“Because you don’t look like the movie type,” she answered, arching one eyebrow suspiciously.
I had the sense she knew exactly the type I was but liked the idea of being with me anyway. Good girls always did. It was their fatal flaw.
Slipping my arm around her waist, I guided her toward the theater doors. “What kind of person doesn’t like seeing a movie? I think maybe ax murderers don’t, but I promise you I’m not an ax murderer. I don’t even own an ax.”
Both eyebrows moved up into her forehead, so I turned on the charm. “Not exactly the way I wanted to start out our date. Maybe we should start over.” Stepping away from her, I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Zane, and I promise to not mention any type of murderer again.”
Becca rolled her eyes and shook my hand. “Hi, Zane. I’m Becca, and you never know. I might be an ax murderer. I think I saw an ax in the shed behind my house earlier this summer.”
Damn, she had a way about her that made me wish I was the type of guy who could do the dating thing.
“Well, Becca, the possible ax murderer, let’s do this movie. What are we seeing
again?” I asked, holding the door open for her.
As she walked through, she said, “Les Mis.”
I cringed at the movie title and told myself two hours of singing would be worth it.
Becca stayed silent as I held the door to my apartment open for her and she looked around at where I lived. The place certainly wasn’t what I imagined she was used to. She probably lived in a nice white house with blue shutters and a picket fence to keep her cocker spaniel from running off. My apartment fit me perfectly, though, with its view of the beach from the balcony and a couple rooms so I could sleep, eat, and take a shower.
She headed directly for the glass doors that led to the balcony and smiled back at me when she saw what I got to see every day. “I’m impressed. This view is incredible.”
I pretended like it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew better. It was a big fucking deal. Nothing else about the place warranted the amount I paid each month to live there, but a million-dollar view was all worth it.
“Pretty nice, huh?” I said, sitting down on the couch as she stared out at the Pacific Ocean below.
She nodded and took one last glance out the window. “Stunning. You’re lucky to be able to live here. You must be some kind of trust fund baby or Silicon Valley tech guy to afford this place.”
“Neither,” I said, waving her over to where I sat. “Come here.”
“Don’t you have roommates who might come home?” she asked before biting her lip in that sexy way.
I shook my head and grinned. “Nope. This place is all mine.”
As Becca walked over to the couch, she said, “It’s all yours? What do you do to afford this place?”
Discussing how I paid for my apartment was the last thing I wanted to do. I had done the movie part of our date, and now I looked forward to the good part.
I pulled her down onto my lap and smiled up at her. “Talking about money is just boring. I’d rather talk about you, or even better, do something else with you.”
Her dark eyes sparkled with interest at my mention of doing other things with her, so I slid my hand behind her head and pulled her down to my mouth. Her lips tasted like a mixture of sweet and salty from the licorice and popcorn she ate at the movies. Sliding my tongue into her mouth, I flicked the tip of it along the inside of her lips, loving the softness of them.
