DUMPED

by Lucy Hawkins

  “Would you like to see?”

  “That depends. Does what’s inside come with conditions?”

  He already knew the answer, but no matter what it was, he couldn’t say no to Hazel even if he desperately wanted to. Friends didn’t do that to each other. Especially when Hazel had had his back through everything. Not even if planning her wedding was going to wreck him.

  “Only that you’ll say yes to planning the wedding.” Hazel reached for a small black bag, sending two more sliding down to the floor.

  He sighed but took the bag. Inside, coiled like a snake, was a vibrant, rich burgundy cashmere scarf. Hazel really did know the way to his heart. It might have been shallow, but expensive stuff made him happy, especially at times like this. Alex reached for another bag and then another, pulling out a pair of silver cufflinks, Tom Ford cologne, a Cartier watch with crystal facing. These items weren’t cheap, but each one was something Alex had mentioned wanting at some point or another. Hazel had really put a lot of thought and money into her efforts.

  “So, how’d I do, kid?” she asked. Her grin told Alex he didn’t have to answer. Alex knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. She’d definitely seen his face light up like a Christmas tree. “Is that a yes?”

  “How can I say no to you?” Alex’s expression grew serious. “You know this isn’t going to be easy. If I screw anything up, it’s on you.”

  Hazel beamed. “You won’t screw anything up,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re going to do great. I know it.”

  All Alex could do was hope she was right.

  Two

  Hank

  “Eighty grand?” Hank yelped, unintentionally thumping his fist in frustration on the varnished mahogany desk in front of him.

  Mr. Healy jumped in surprise, his eyes widening behind his thin-framed glasses. Hank quickly pulled his hands into his lap, not wanting to scare the timid banker any further.

  “Sorry,” he said, lowering his volume. “But eighty grand? That seems like a lot—”

  “Your Aunt Norma wasn’t doing well financially. When she got sick, she thought taking out a mortgage on the inn was her only option. I did try to talk her out of it, Hank.” Mr. Healy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up his face. “I knew people in town would be willing to help her out. I even asked about you.”

  There it was. Exactly what Hank had been hoping to hell wasn’t the case. Aunt Norma hadn’t come to him for help when she needed it the most. It stung more than he thought possible, knowing the woman who had raised him didn’t think he could be there for her. He nodded, his lips pressed into a grim line, and gestured for Mr. Healy to continue.

  “Since she missed her repayments, the interest increased. Look, you know I liked you aunt. Everyone in Redwood did. But I don’t make the rules.” He paused, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Hank. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Please, there’s got to be something you can do. You liked Aunt Norma? Well that place is her legacy. She wanted me to save it. She wanted it to be what it used to be. I-I can’t lose the inn. That’s all I have left of her.”

  The words tumbled out his mouth before he could stop them. Internally, he winced. It was far from normal for him to show such emotion, especially to a practical stranger. But desperation seemed to have removed any filter he had put in place. Since his aunt’s death, he’d done everything in his power to keep The Lakeside in business. It wasn’t enough, but it was going to be. It had to be. He’d let Aunt Norma down plenty of times in her lifetime, but he wasn’t going to let everything she’d ever done—everything she’d ever worked for—be in vain.

  Mr. Healy sighed and looked back to his computer, typing away on the hidden screen. “I can give you six months,” he said finally.

  “Six months?” The words were tinged with desperation.

  “Listen, I’m already putting my you-know-what on the line giving you the extension. You have six months to come up with the money, or the bank will have to repossess the place.”

  The finality of his words left no room for Hank to argue, but six months was such a short time to string together eighty thousand dollars. Maybe when he’d been playing football, but those days were long gone. He couldn’t take back all the things that had led him back to Redwood, but he had made a promise to his aunt on her deathbed that he wouldn’t let her down. He had no intention of breaking that promise. Either Hank would get the eighty grand, or he would die trying.

  “Thank you, Mr. Healy.” He stood up and held his hand out. Mr. Healy took it reluctantly, and Hank shook a little too enthusiastically. “I won’t let you down. I’ll get the money somehow.”

  Mr. Healy looked reluctant, but he managed a smile. “I really hope you do, Hank. It would be a shame not to see The Lakeside up and running like it should be. My parents got married there, you know?”

  Hank huffed out a laugh. “It seems like everyone in this town’s parents got married there. Or parents’ parents.” He turned and walked out of the office, a slight weight lifted off his chest.

  On the walk back to the end, a thousand thoughts raced through Hank’s mind. He needed to come up with a plan. With money owing on the inn already, it seemed risky to put any money into renovations. But the fact was, the place was looking a little worse for wear. Since I’d moved to Florida and Aunt Norma’s health deteriorated, there was no one to reliably take care of the property.

  The place was old—a gorgeous Victorian house built toward the end of the 1800s. The scalloped siding was original to the house, and the wrap-around porch had always been a favorite of everyone who had stayed at the inn. Norma had bought the house along with her husband not long after they married with every intention of raising a big family. But after her husband’s unexpected death, she had transformed it into The Lakeside Inn.

  Hank had never met the husband in question. He had been gone several years before Hank had moved in at fourteen. It was clear she had adored him, though. She’d kept many of his things, including the piano in the drawing room, and several pictures of the two of them decorated the entire house. Hank had always thought it strange she had never remarried, but between the inn and taking care of her teenage nephew, she likely hadn’t had the time. She was always in and out of the principal’s office, trying to argue Hank out of a suspension or making sure he was at football practice. She’d never missed a game.

  He walked up the stairs, each step creaking loudly. No guests were booked to stay until the weekend, so all he had to do to maintain the place was open and close the blinds and puff up the pillows every day. It needed more life. More visitors. The place might have been old, but it was still charming. Each room overlooked the lake, and the antique decorations and cozy floral prints made it feel homey.

  Pausing at the window in one of the rooms, he looked out over the garden. Maybe if he ran a special, that might bring in more customers. Or put some money in advertising. But that was money he didn’t have. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a man in a black suit walking slowly around the property as though he were inspecting it. A real estate agent, most likely. He’d probably found out somehow that the inn was in trouble. He wouldn’t have been the first person to come asking about selling since Aunt Norma had died. Oh well. Just like the rest of them, Hank would politely, yet firmly, tell him it wasn’t for sale. Nor would it ever be.

  He walked back down the stairs, imaginary pitchfork in hand, ready to tell the suit to get the hell off his property. But when he walked out onto the back porch and got a better look at him, he froze in his tracks. Alex Haynes. He hadn’t seen Alex since high school, but there was no mistaking his cropped chestnut hair or his high cheekbones.

  “You,” Hank said, his tone wavering. He’d been ready to come out guns blazing, but that hardly seemed appropriate now. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Me?” The word was laced with a similar uncertainty.

  Hank stared at him, taking him in. He’d filled out since high
school, no longer the scrawny Theatre Club president who was all elbows and knees. Now he looked… good. Still shorter than Hank by almost a foot and half his width, but that was to be expected. At six feet four, he was a giant to most people. “The inn’s not for sale,” Hank said finally.

  “I… what?” Alex frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to buy the inn. I want to rent it.”

  “Oh,” Hank replied, a little dumbfounded. “I thought…”

  “Look, where’s Norma?” Alex asked dismissively, as though Hank had nothing to offer. Typical. He’d always thought he was too smart for everyone in Redwood. Especially Hank.

  “Dead.” The word came out harsher than Hank intended. “I run the inn now.”

  He sounded like a jerk, but so did Alex. He always had, with that better-than-you attitude. It had rubbed Hank the wrong way in high school, and ten years hadn’t done anything to change that.

  Alex hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, sincerity showing in his vivid green eyes. “I didn’t know.”

  It felt as though they were sixteen again—Hank trying to work up the courage to talk to Alex, and Alex, as always, deeming himself too good for Hank. Then again, that was probably true. Not that it mattered. Hank wasn’t into high maintenance twinks anymore anyway. Thankfully.

  “Well, now you do.” Hank turned on his heel to walk back inside. There was nothing left to discuss.

  “Wait!” he called.

  Looking back, he was surprised to see Alex chasing after him. First time for everything. “What?”

  “The wedding. I want to hire the inn for a wedding.”

  Right. He’d mentioned that before.

  “I don’t know if it’s manageable. We don’t have the kind of manpower right now to pull off a wedding.” He chose his words carefully to conceal the fact that he was the only one working at the inn, aside from Rhiannon, who came in a few times a week for housekeeping.

  “I just want the venue,” Alex said quickly. “I’ll hire extra staff for the day. You won’t have to do a thing. How many rooms do you have available? The wedding party will want to stay here, and I would imagine other guests will too, if there’s room.”

  Hank looked between Alex and the inn. He needed the money, and the inn needed guests. Even if Alex Haynes was one of the last people I wanted to work with, he was desperate.

  “Ten rooms, but there are also the lake cottages.” He pointed to the two derelict structures by the edge of the lake. “They need a bit of work, but I can fix them up.”

  As Alex scrutinized the grounds, Hank could feel his shoulders tensing. It really was run down compared to what it once was. But Alex had approached him, not the other way around. No one was holding a gun to his head and forcing him to rent the place.

  “Who’s getting married?” Hank asked, trying to sound casual, as though he didn’t really care.

  “Hazel Kingsley. Do you remember her?”

  A strange sense of relief washed through Hank. It wasn’t Alex. He pressed his lips together. There was no reason for him to be relieved. It wasn’t as though Alex was going to suddenly realize he was in love with him and the two would live happily ever after. Hank didn’t even want that. This was just the stress messing with his mind. He wasn’t himself right now.

  “Yeah,” Hank said. She and Alex had been inseparable ever since Hank could remember. A freckled blonde girl, she was pretty enough. Always popular with the guys on the football team.

  “It’s going to be a big deal,” Alex continued. “She’s marrying Aaron Reagan.”

  Was he supposed to know or care who that was? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Hank couldn’t put his finger on it. And there it was. He was looking like an idiot in front of Alex. Again. His ears and cheeks burned even though a breeze was blowing.

  “He’s Senator Daniel Reagan’s son,” Alex added after a beat.

  Perfect. Some big city intellectual types who would probably turn their noses up at the place. Why on earth would they want to have a fancy, sophisticated wedding at a rundown inn in Redwood?

  “You’re sure The Lakeview is the right place?” Surely there had to be some mix-up. Hank didn’t know anything about weddings or senators and their sons. Hell, he barely knew anything about running an inn. But this didn’t add up.

  “Hazel’s parents got married here. And her grandparents. She wants to keep with tradition and use The Lakeside, and I think with a little—or maybe more than a little—TLC, we can get the place looking good and pull something amazing off.”

  Though every fiber of Hank wanted to say no, once Alex started discussing the hire rate, he couldn’t argue anymore. It wasn’t enough to get The Lakeside completely out of debt, but it was a very generous contribution to the cause. Even if it meant working with Alex Haynes.

  Three

  Alex

  “He left the house!” Alex’s mom shouted from the porch as he climbed out of the car.

  Alex ignored the remark, instead walking up the steps to the chairs occupied by his mother and sister, who sat drinking tea. “Why did no one tell me Norma Green was dead and Hank Morrison is running The Lakeside?”

  “She was sick for a while. I thought you knew. Hank moved here a few months back and I guess he inherited the place. I don’t think she had much family,” his mom explained.

  “Well I just spent half an hour negotiating business with my high school bully.” Taylor rolled her eyes at the remark, but Alex kept going. “I thought he was playing pro football or something. Why is he back here running an inn? He seemed totally clueless.”

  “God, it’s like you live under a rock,” Taylor said. “Or are you too self-obsessed to follow what’s happening outside your bubble? Besides, I think calling Hank Morrison your high school bully is a bit of a stretch.”

  Alex huffed. Taylor had always downplayed how much of a misfit he had been. In high school, he couldn’t walk down the hallway without someone yelling at him, and it had only gotten worse as he’d gotten older. It was why he’d gotten the hell out of Redwood at the first possible chance. Taylor was the exact opposite. Two years younger, stubborn and perpetually single.

  “So, tormenting me by showing up to all of my plays was nothing? Throwing rocks at me by the lake was nothing?” He crossed his arms. It had been years ago. Another lifetime. For the most part, he’d gotten over it. He didn’t care about what other people said about him in high school. They didn’t matter. But for some reason, Hank Morrison did.

  “Would you two stop your bickering?” their mother said firmly. Her expression softened, and she turned to face him. “You know, people do change, honey. Look at yourself. You’re hardly a gawky teenager anymore. You’re my handsome, grown-up man.”

  “You do know I say the same thing to my cat, right?” Taylor asked.

  Alex ignored her. “Gawky? Really?”

  Taylor snorted. “You were totally gawky.”

  Shooting a glare her way, Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I could say a whole lot about you in high school, you know.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She had him there. No matter how much they couldn’t stand each other half the time, they still loved each other. Besides, she was right. He was pretty gawky. Uncoordinated, in love with all things Broadway, and with a penchant for dyeing his hair all colors of the rainbow. That hadn’t really helped his case in the bullying department.

  “Whatever.” He plonked himself on the cushioned wicker sofa and grabbed a finger sandwich from the tray on the table.

  “What were you doing at The Lakeside anyway?” Taylor asked.

  He hadn’t told them about Hazel’s wedding yet. It had taken a few days to adjust to the fact that he was doing the whole thing. And then he’d had to force himself out of the house and over to the inn. All it had taken was promising himself a treat at the ice cream parlor on the way home. He’d reached the point of having to bribe himself with food to get out of bed. Great. That isn’
t sad at all.

  “If you must know, I’ve taken on a wedding planning gig.” Rather than providing any more information, he pushed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, watching as his mom and Taylor exchanged a look.

  “That’s fabulous, honey!” The hesitation in his mom’s expression hardly matched her tone. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  And there it was. “Not really,” Alex admitted. “But I’ve got to get over the whole Grant thing at some point, right?”

  If only that could happen. But Alex didn’t see that happening any time soon. After all, he couldn’t even say Grant’s name without a lump in his throat and a strange swooping sensation in his stomach that left him feeling like he’d just gone bungie jumping. A part of him was just… gone. Who knew when or if he would ever get it back?

  “Who’s getting married?” Taylor asked.

  Alex braced himself. Hazel was practically a member of the Haynes family. Both his mom and sister would squeal with joy when he told them. Predictably, they did. A flurry of questions followed until he finally caved and told them Hazel was pregnant. He was fairly sure the only ones who could hear the pitch they emitted were dogs roaming the neighborhood.

  The next day, Alex showed up at The Lakeside to discuss more wedding planning with Hank. After five minutes knocking on the door, he abandoned the house and instead tried searching the property. He’d left his jacket in the car, but the mid-afternoon heat had him wishing he’d opted not to wear a button-down and tie. Even with the sleeves rolled up, the warm air of late spring left him miserable. He probably could have worn whatever he pleased around Hank and he wouldn’t have noticed, but wearing his usual work suits at least made Alex feel professional.

  As he walked around the side of the inn, he took in the full beauty of the house. It was a little worse for wear, but the structure itself was breathtaking. A row of windows on the upper floor overlooked the lake, and the wrap-around porch was perfect for sitting outside in the warm summer evenings with a glass of wine. The view of the sunset over the lake would be gorgeous.