An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two)

by Schurig, Rachel

  Chapter Six

  “I have a problem,” I said to Emily twenty minutes later.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, sounding worried.

  “I have a new guest staying here.”

  “And that’s a problem? God, Brooke, I thought something was seriously wrong. You never call me more than once in a work day.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But this really is a problem. This isn’t any normal guest.”

  “Is it a zombie?” she asked, deadpan. “A traveling head of state?”

  “Do you want to hear about the insanely hot man or not?”

  Emily whistled on the other end of the phone. “A hot man, eh? In Alpena? We don’t get too many of those.”

  “You’re telling me. This one isn’t from Alpena though. He’s a lawyer from Chicago. And I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands off him for the next three days.”

  Emily laughed. “That hot, huh?”

  “God, Em,” I sighed, leaning back in my desk chair and putting my feet up. “You have no idea. I literally don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like him in my life. And it’s not just his looks you know? We spark together.”

  “Good looks and a spark. You really do have a problem.”

  “You’re telling me,” I grumbled. “I just ate lunch with Mr. Gorgeous, and it was all I could do not to shove my tongue down his throat.”

  “You’re a shameless hussy, Brooke Murray.”

  “You’re not wrong. But this is too far, even for me. You know my cardinal rule about getting involved with guests.”

  “You have a rule about getting involved with guests?” She asked. “I’ve never heard of this rule.”

  “Well, that’s probably because I’ve never had a guest at this place that I would think twice about.”

  Her soft laughter on the other end of the phone made my stomach hurt a little. I missed Emily so much. What I wouldn’t give to have her here to giggle with me about John in person.

  “So what are you gonna do about it?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “I have way too much work to do this weekend to worry about a guy.”

  “Ooh, it’s the video game thing, isn’t it? Maybe you’ll get lucky—maybe one of those guys will be even hotter and will distract you from Mr. Gorgeous of Chicago.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  “Brooke, maybe this guy showing up today isn’t so random. Have you considered that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, we just got done talking about how you were ready for a relationship. And bam, the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen suddenly shows up. And gets all sparky with you. Maybe that’s not a coincidence.”

  “Em, what part of Chicago are you not getting?”

  “Don’t let geography stand in the way of true love, sweetie.”

  “Emily Donovan, you know what will happen if you start throwing around words like true love.”

  “You’ll hang up on me?”

  “Yup.” I was quiet for a moment. “But on second thought, maybe you do have a point. Maybe this wasn’t coincidence after all.”

  On the other end of the phone, Emily affected a dramatic gasp. “Hang on, is this still Brooke? Who am I talking to? Are you actually going to tell me you believe in something so romantic?”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” I said. “I was going to say, maybe John is supposed to be my last wild fling, you know? Final one-night stand before I settle down into the drudgery of a relationship like you.”

  Emily snorted. “This is what we call rationalizing Brooke. You are clearly trying to convince yourself it would be a good idea to sleep with Mr. Gorgeous.”

  “Em, you didn’t see how hot he was,” I whined. “I’m entitled to a little rationalization.”

  “Just be careful,” she said, her voice sounding affectionate. “I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. You are in charge of a pretty big staff in that inn, you know.”

  “And you don’t think I should let them think I’m a giant slut?”

  She laughed again. “It might make things feel slightly uncomfortable for you if they catch you with your pants down.”

  I got off the phone a few minutes later, knowing Emily was right. I prided myself on my professionalism. There was no way I was going to let some big city boy make me forget that.

  Even if I did get the feeling that he would be totally worth it.

  * * *

  Luckily, I didn’t see John around for the rest of the afternoon. I was finally able to make myself get focused; the video gamers would be arriving just before dinner, and I was pleased to say I was ready for them.

  I stopped back at the apartment before their check-in time. I wanted to rest for a few minutes and change into a fresh outfit. In the throes of my hangover, I had opted for comfort that morning and I figured something a bit more professional wouldn’t be amiss. Jeans were okay once in a while, but I tried to make it a practice to wear heels to work; in my experience, a girl just felt better in high heels.

  “Hi, Dad,” I said as I walked into my parents’ kitchen. He was sitting at the table with his paper and a mug of coffee. I frowned when I saw it. “Daddy, you know the doctor said no more caffeine after lunch.”

  He gave me a sheepish grin. “I thought I had the place to myself.”

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked, pouring myself my own cup of coffee and sitting down to join him. My headache, which had seemed to disappear in the excitement of the new arrival, was creeping back to full force.

  “She’s shopping,” my dad said, his disapproval evident. My father was big on shopping locally. He hated when my mom would drive to the outskirts of town to do her shopping at one of the big chains that had appeared in recent years. “Apparently they’re having a deal on pillows.” His sniff of derision made clear his opinion on the kind of pillows she might find at such a store.

  “Sorry, Dad,” I told him, patting his hand. “That’s my fault. I asked her to go for me. We desperately need new pillows in a few of the guest rooms.”

  He looked at me with something akin to horror on his face. “And you couldn’t get them from Betty’s?” Betty, an old friend of my father’s, operated a small home goods boutique next door to the inn.

  “Dad, she was going to charge me ten dollars more per pillow. I need twenty pillows. That kind of thing adds up.”

  He spluttered for a moment, apparently too upset with me to form words. I patted his hand again. “Sorry, Dad. Money’s tight.”

  “Brooke Marie, don’t you ever do that again,” he said suddenly, his voice much stronger, and more angry, than I would have expected. His tone, and the use of my middle name, startled me.

  “What?”

  “Make a decision like that without consulting me.”

  “Dad, I’m the manager—”

  “It’s my inn!” he cried, slamming his fist down on the table. I stared at him in shock. My dad never raised his voice at me. “Sweetheart,” he went on, sounding more like himself, “I appreciate the work you’ve done to save the inn. I know you had to fix a lot of my mistakes. I may not always be the best with business decisions…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

  “Dad—”

  He held up a hand to silence me. “But I have bought our bedding and supplies at Betty’s for twenty years. She’s always been willing to cut me a good deal. We need to support stores like hers.”

  It was always the same with my dad—wanting to support everyone else even to the detriment of his own business. I started to sigh, but something in his expression stopped me. “I mean it, Brooke. To you it’s saving some money, I get that. But what happens to our inn when all the downtown stores shut down? When all the business in town is located out at the strip malls. What do you think that will do to us, huh?”

  I paused. I hadn’t really thought of it that way. “And what if everyone had your attitude when it came to deciding where to stay? Oh, who cares that Murra
y’s Inn has some charm and personality—I’ll just sleep at the first motel I come across. It’s cheaper.”

  “You’re right,” I said, feeling bad. I was so quick to brush his opinions aside when it came to running the inn. Part of that, I knew, was residual anger for the state he had allowed it to get into. But mostly it was just hubris, thinking I knew best. I sometimes forget that he had run the place beautifully for years before things got bad. “I’ll call Mom and ask her to go to Betty’s instead.”

  “Good girl,” he said, patting my hand. “I appreciate it. You know, Betty helped me out of a few tight spots over the years. We really do owe her.”

  I called my mom, just managing to catch her before she got to the store. She was slightly annoyed that she had to make the trip for nothing, but seemed to cheer up when I told her to go to Betty’s. They were old friends.

  “Busy weekend, eh?” my dad asked, once I was off the phone. “Gonna be a full house over there?”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I think we’re about ready.”

  “Well, I’ll be around to help. You just let me know what needs doing.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I will.” When I had first come back, my dad had been unable to give up control. He had insisted on following me around constantly, second-guessing all my decisions. He had gotten much better in the last year or so. My mother had finally convinced him to take her on vacation—a Caribbean cruise—and he had seemed to realize just what he was giving up by refusing to retire. He was much more hands off nowadays, which made my job a lot easier.

  I looked down at my watch and sighed. “Speaking of which, I better change and head back over there. The guests will be here soon.” I stood up and made my way toward the stairs. As I passed the side table in the hall, I noticed the answering machine light was flashing. “Hey, Dad,” I called out. “We have a message.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” I heard him mumble from the kitchen. I pressed play anyhow.

  “Mr. Murray, this is Conner Duggan again. I would very much like to speak to you regarding our offer. We are very eager to do business with you, Mr. Murray. I hope you’ll be in touch soon.”

  I walked back to the kitchen and raised my eyebrows at my dad. “Who was that?”

  “It’s nothing,” he muttered, but he looked agitated. “Stupid sharks.”

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  He sighed. “Some developer wants to buy the inn.”

  My heart seemed to sink a few inches. “Really?”

  “Yeah. They want to tear the whole thing down and put up a luxury spa.” He snorted. “Don’t know who they think is gonna wanna stay at a place like that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Dad. Luxury resorts never do well.”

  “Not around here they don’t.”

  I looked at him closely. He still seemed agitated. “Are these people bothering you?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. They just call a few times a week.”

  “A few times a week?” I felt pissed suddenly. Who the hell did they think they were, harassing him like that? “Did you tell them that you weren’t interested?”

  “I told them they could go kiss my ass.”

  I grinned at him. “Good job.”

  “Yeah, well. I can still hold my own.”

  I walked back to the table and kissed the top of his head. “I know you can, Dad. I’m so proud of you.”

  “All right, now,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed. He patted my arm. “Go on. Get back to work. They need you over there.”

  I smiled as I walked up the stairs. It might not have sounded like much, but coming from my dad, that was one of the best compliments I’d ever gotten.

  Chapter Seven

  The dining room was full and bustling that night.

  Looking around at the room, I couldn’t help but feel a glow of pride. I hadn’t seen such a crowd since the leaves had fallen, taking the fall color, and those who traveled to see it, with them.

  “They seem to be enjoying themselves,” Paul said, leaning against the bar. “Who knew video game freaks were so social?”

  “Paul,” I said, a warning note in my voice.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I meant to say enthusiasts.”

  “I think they’re kind of cute,” I said. “They all seem so happy to be here.”

  “Yeah, probably ’cause they don’t get out much,” he said drily. I flicked his hand with my fingernails. “Sorry,” he said again.

  “Hi, Brooke.”

  I turned to see John approaching the bar. I was pleased to find that my throat did not go dry and I felt no need to start spluttering incoherently. Maybe I was becoming immune to his charms. Then he smiled at me.

  Maybe not.

  “How did your meeting go?” I asked, trying to keep my head. I wished Paul would make himself busy.

  “Pretty good,” he said. He saw Paul and gave him a smile. It didn’t seem to have quite the same effect—Paul regarded him with the same blank expression he’d had before. “Hey, man,” John said. “Could I get a beer?”

  “Sure, man,” Paul said. I tried not to groan. Please, don’t let him get all territorial on me, not tonight. “What will you have?”

  “Bud light?”

  I heard Paul snort, but he did it softly enough that John couldn’t hear—at least, I hoped so. Paul had very strong ideas about guys who willingly drank light beer. But he headed over to the tap nonetheless, and I could turn my attention more fully to John.

  “So, are you still on duty?” he asked.

  “Kind of,” I said. “We have a night manager, but when we’re this busy, I like to stick around until most of the guests have gone to bed.”

  “This is an interesting crowd,” John said. “I’m disappointed not to see any costumes, though.”

  I laughed. “They haven’t started gaming yet,” I told him. “Their first tourney starts after dinner.”

  “Gaming?” he asked. “Look at you, all up on the lingo.”

  I nudged him with my elbow. “Give me a break. I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

  “Are you going to be joining in on any of these tourneys?”

  “No. I am strictly on the other side of the desk for this one.”

  We stood in comfortable silence for a moment. “That will be two fifty,” Paul said suddenly, plopping John’s beer down on the bar and spilling a portion of it in the process. I glared at him, and he smiled sweetly back at me.

  “Can you add it to my tab?” John asked, a slight edge in his voice. So he had picked up on Paul’s attitude. “I’m in the suite.”

  “Sure thing,” Paul said, and I caught a distinct roll of his eyes as he turned away.

  “Sorry,” I said to John, knowing he had noticed, too. “Paul’s not the most social bartender in the world.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” John said drily, taking a sip of his drink. We sat in silence for a moment, watching the bustle of the dining room.

  “You look nice tonight,” John said eventually, his eyes noticeably flickering down over my outfit. I felt a little thrill at his words. I had changed into one of my favorite outfits, a slim black pencil skirt and a silk white blouse. With my best pair of knock-off Louboutins, I was maybe overdoing it a little bit, but if John wasn’t complaining, neither was I.

  “Miss Murray?” I turned to see Kyle, the president of the association, approaching the bar.

  “Hi, Kyle,” I said warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. “Please, call me Brooke. How is everything going?”

  “Great,” he said, nodding. Kyle seemed like a really nice guy, probably in his early thirties. He had a habit of nodding a lot when he got excited, which meant his head had pretty much been bobbing since he got here. He and I had spent quite a bit of time on the phone over the previous weeks, firming up all the details of the event. “I just wanted to make sure the screens were set up in the lobby.”

  “Yup,” I said. “I just came f
rom there, everything is good to go. Are you going to get started soon?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding again. “I think dinner is pretty much wrapping up. I should probably make an announcement before we get going.”

  “I’ll go and get you the microphone,” I said, standing up. Nodding once more, Kyle returned to his seat to finish his dinner. I grinned at John apologetically. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, spreading his arms out. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

  The tournament got off to a spirited start. We had set up large projection screens throughout the lobby and conference room, and the gamers were grouped together in several pools, from which the winners would be chosen to compete in the semi-finals. They were playing a game I had never heard of before, involving a lot of trolls and wizards, whose name I had already forgotten. It wasn’t exactly my thing, but I had to admit they looked like they were having a lot of fun. Those who had been knocked out already and those who weren’t playing in this round wandered between the screens, shouting encouragement and derision at the players. I had the wait staff constantly refilling bowls of chips and platters of brownies, and Paul was kept busy pouring beer.

  “You know,” he said to me a few hours later, when I finally caught up to him at the bar. He looked tired but happy. “These guys are really growing on me. I think this is kinda fun.”

  “Their enthusiasm is contagious, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, and they’re tipping like nobody’s business.” I laughed. “I was talking to that Kyle guy, and he said when this round is over they’re gonna open it up to free play. He said I could have a turn if I wanted to check it out.”

  “Not so high and mighty about the freaks anymore, I see.”

  Paul shrugged. “What can I say? I know a good time when I see it.”

  I was even more surprised on my next tour of the lobby when I saw John sitting in a large group of players, a controller in his hand, as a skinny guy in a Firefly T-shirt explained to him how to get past the fire-breathing dragon on the screen. Still in his suit pants and tie, he looked completely out of place amongst the nerdy guys in their jeans and T-shirts, but the look of utter concentration on his face as he listened to the instructions was beyond cute. I watched as his avatar died on screen before John looked up. Catching my eye, he shrugged, grinning.