Bolted

by Meg Benjamin

  “What do you want to do?” Her mother folded her arms.

  Greta took a deep breath. “I want to not rush into any more stupid decisions. I want to…not make any more mistakes.”

  Her mother folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “Good luck with that. It’s not something I’ve ever been good at myself.”

  “But you’ve been better at it than I have,” Greta said slowly. “You and Josh. Especially Josh. I know I’ve let you down.”

  “Oh Greta, for pity’s sake! Will you listen to yourself?” Her mother snorted. “Your brother’s fiancée took off with another man. From what I can deduce, your brother’s been doing who knows what with Devon Grant. And I’m the one who pressured Josh and Allie into deciding to get married in the first place. I wouldn’t say anybody in our family is ready to be declared infallible.”

  Greta fought down a totally inappropriate grin. “Well, there is that.”

  “And so I repeat—what do you want to do?” She leaned forward. “Go back to Boston? Go back to Promise Harbor? Stay here?”

  Greta stared down at her feet. Her stomach clenched tight. Decision time, Greta. “I really think…I’d like to stay here.” She took a breath. That was a lot easier than she’d thought it would be. “We’ve got some definite possibilities. So far the stuff I’ve baked has sold like gangbusters, and Alice seems to feel there’s a market beyond Tompkins Corners. And there’s a possibility that we might do something with the dining room too, maybe make it a bed and breakfast.” She took a quick glance around the lobby, managing not to shudder. “Of course, that’s sort of in the future.”

  Her mother shrugged. “Sounds good to me. I can think of a couple of places in the harbor that could benefit from having decent baked goods for a change. The Promise Harbor Inn’s croissants remind me of potholders.”

  Greta smiled again, then let the smile dim. “Of course, I might screw it up again.”

  Her mother nodded. “You might. Or somebody else might. Or we might be hit by a freak hurricane that will wipe out your kitchen. Anything could happen, Greta. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a try anyway.”

  The door to the general store swished open, and Alice leaned into the room. “Are you making lunch today, or are we on our own?”

  “Oh lord, I forgot all about it.” Greta glanced back at her mother. “Have you and Owen eaten?”

  She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink. “We were going to have lunch on the road.”

  “Then come on into the dining room, and I’ll fix everyone something.” She turned toward Alice. “Alice, this is my mother, Sophie Brewster. Mom, Alice Dubrovnik—she owns the hotel. Hank’s outside too, along with Mom’s friend Owen.”

  Alice and her mother nodded at each other a little warily before Alice headed back to the store. Greta walked toward the kitchen door but turned back for a moment. “Mom, about Owen…”

  Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Don’t go there, Greta. Just don’t.”

  Greta bit her lip to keep from grinning. “Well, anyway, thanks, Mom. Really. Thanks.”

  Her mother sighed. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart. At least I can offer good advice for one of my offspring.”

  Lunch had been both delicious and surreal. Greta made some kind of cold vegetable soup that everybody slurped up, along with sandwiches and mint iced tea. Nadia was more Nadia than usual, with a lavish paisley shawl and golden hoop earrings. Hank half expected her to start telling fortunes. Alice delivered several zingers in her customary dry monotone. Hyacinth described her newest find, a couple of house finches currently at the bird feeder.

  Greta’s mother sat through it all with a faint smile, making some friendly comments to Nadia, more of them to Hyacinth, fewer to Alice. If she was overwhelmed, she didn’t show it. Her friend Owen said little. Every once in a while they exchanged smiles. Hank wondered if Greta had noticed, but he didn’t feel like calling it to her attention.

  In fact, she seemed to be avoiding his gaze as much as possible. He couldn’t decide if that was a problem or not. Probably it was, but he didn’t feel up to analyzing it at the moment. He also didn’t feel like going back to the dig. God help him if Marty decided to do some excavating on his own, but he had a feeling the kid was more likely to take the opportunity for a quick siesta than to do any unsanctioned digging.

  Finally, Greta’s mother and her friend went back to their car again, giving Greta a list of unsolicited instructions for things she needed to do around the house when she went back to Promise Harbor. Or at least Greta’s mother did that. Her friend Owen settled back in his seat, closing his eyes again. The ability to nap whenever you had a chance was very useful, at least from Hank’s point of view.

  Finally, they were gone. Greta stood on the front porch, staring down the road after them. Now or never. Hopefully the former.

  He stepped beside her. “So what’s it going to be—stay or go?” He hadn’t meant to be that direct about it, but he really wanted to know.

  She glanced back at him, her lips turning up in a faint smile. “Stay, I guess. I mean, there’s no point in going back to Promise Harbor to talk to my mom when she’s currently off having a spa vacation with Owen.”

  He felt as if his knees had quite suddenly turned to applesauce. He reached a hand to the porch railing to keep from collapsing in sheer relief. “And long term?” His voice sounded a little choked, but maybe she wouldn’t notice.

  She sank down slowly on the top step. “Long term I may give Alice’s idea a whirl. I’m starting to think it might be possible after all.”

  “More than possible, I’d say. Highly probable.” He slid down beside her, hoping that he’d get enough muscle control back to be able to stand up later.

  “Possible,” she said firmly. “I’m not taking it farther than that. And I’m going to be doing this on a month-by-month basis, maybe even week-by-week.”

  “Still. You’ll be the head chef of the Hotel Grand, Tompkins Corners, Massachusetts. That’s got to count for something.”

  She glanced up at him, and he grinned. For a moment the corners of her mouth trembled as if she might smile herself, but then she turned back to the road again. “I don’t know how this is going to work out. I mean, I was only going to stay for a week. All of a sudden, I’m here for the foreseeable future. It’s a little scary.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was talking about Alice or him, but he decided to assume it was the latter. At least, he could do something about that. “I never thought of myself as a scary man.”

  “You’re not. Exactly.”

  “Just sort of.” He stretched his arm around her waist. The worst she could do would be to push him away, but he was really hoping she wouldn’t.

  She didn’t. Instead, she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’ve only been divorced for two weeks. And this all happened really fast.”

  “So we can slow it down a little now. But fast doesn’t necessarily mean wrong.”

  “No it doesn’t.” She looked up at him, her brown eyes dark.

  “What’s really bothering you, Greta?” He took a deep breath. “Were you toying with my affections? Was this supposed to be over by now?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Partly. Maybe mostly.” He sighed. “Are you scared because what was going to be a fling turned out to be more than that?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “Partly.” Her lips quirked up. “Maybe mostly. It’s definitely beyond the fling stage by now.”

  “I repeat. We can take it slow if that’s what you want.” Although slow didn’t sound all that appealing all of a sudden. As a matter of fact, he decided he’d really like to carry her up the stairs and maybe stay there for a couple of days. Assuming Alice would provide room service. “We can take it at whatever speed you want, provided you’re willing to keep going.”

  She licked her lips. “I’m willing. Most definitely willing.”

  He touch
ed his lips to hers, lightly, then more firmly, smelling lavender and sage, sweet and savory. Greta. Oh my, yes.

  She pulled back slowly, then dropped her head on his shoulder again, smiling. “You’re a really great guy, Doc. I’m very glad I didn’t leave you in that hole a week ago.”

  “Needless to say, so am I.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Do you need to go back to Promise Harbor for anything? We could go over there now, after I check to make sure Marty hasn’t decided to dig a tunnel to nowhere. Maybe Barney’s wouldn’t be such a bad place for dinner. You could tell your buddy Bernice you’re in the bakery business.”

  “What I intend to tell my buddy Bernice has nothing to do with baked goods.” She blew out a breath. “I should probably talk to Alice before we take off. I need to let her know I’m staying.”

  “I have a feeling she’s figured that out.” He nodded toward where Alice stood in the doorway.

  “You fixing dinner tonight, or do I need to pull one of the frozen pizzas out of the store?” She didn’t look all that excited about the prospect.

  “We never did discuss days off, did we?” Greta pushed herself to her feet. “I’m thinking weekends would be good.”

  “I’m thinking we’ll discuss this later.” Alice shrugged. “So what about tonight?”

  “Go for the pizza, Alice.” Greta grinned. “I need to pick up my stuff back in Promise Harbor.”

  Alice sighed. “First thing Monday morning, we hash all of this out. I guess pizza won’t kill us for one night. Considering that Nadia was ready to take over the cooking again.”

  “Monday it is.” She watched Alice head back inside, then peered beyond her into the hotel, her eyes widening. “Oh my lord.”

  Hank pushed himself to his feet. “What?”

  She nodded toward the lobby, stepping through the front door. “That.”

  Hyacinth stood on a footstool, wearing the Bridesmaid Dress from Hell Greta herself had been wearing when she first arrived. The neckline dipped almost to her waist, exposing the white T-shirt underneath. The puke-green ruffled skirt was bunched up to her elbows. She looked a little like she was wearing an exercise ball.

  “This is the most wonderful dress in the world,” she said dreamily.

  “It’s a little big,” Greta murmured.

  “I’ll grow into it.”

  Nadia stepped through the door to the family apartment, her garden basket on her arm. “Come on, Hyacinth. We need to pick some rosemary.” She narrowed her eyes. “Put the dress back for now. We’ll cut it down later.”

  Hyacinth sighed. “Do we have to cut it down?”

  “Only if you want to be able to actually walk around in it. Which is always handy.” Nadia took a handful of ruffles, lifting the dress up toward the little girl’s head. “Hold still and I’ll pull it loose.”

  Hyacinth glanced back at Greta. “Thank you for the dress. It’s lovely. I’m glad you’re staying.”

  Greta nodded. “Me too.”

  Nadia sighed. “All right, let’s go.” She cast a quick grin in Greta’s direction. “Have a nice trip, my dear. See you tomorrow.”

  Greta stood watching for a moment, then shrugged. “You know, she’s right. That dress was absolutely ghastly, but in a lot of ways it was the most wonderful dress in the world.”

  Hank slid his arm around her waist, trying to control his idiot grin. “In that it brought you to Casa Dubrovnik, I’m inclined to agree. Want to head to Promise Harbor? What do you need to bring back, by the way?”

  She shrugged. “Just my suitcase mostly. I need my clothes. I’m out of underwear.”

  He gave her a long look. “If you bring back your suitcase, does that mean no more braless days?”

  “Probably.” The corners of her lips edged up again. “Then again, I’m open to negotiation. And bribery.”

  He pulled her into his arms, feeling her warm, braless breasts soft against his chest. “Woman,” he murmured, “I so like the way you think.”

  About the Author

  Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of contemporary romance for Samhain Publishing. Her books have won an EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the New England Romance Writers Beanpot Award, and the Holt Medallion, among other honors. Meg lives in Colorado. Her website is www.MegBenjamin.com and her blog is megbenj1.wordpress.com. You can follow her on:

  Facebook www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1

  Pinterest www.pinterest.com/megbenjamin

  Twitter www.twitter.com/megbenj1

  Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at meg@megbenjamin.com.

  Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin

  Now Available:

  Konigsburg, Texas

  Venus In Blue Jeans

  Wedding Bell Blues

  Be My Baby

  Long Time Gone

  Brand New Me

  Don’t Forget Me

  Fearless Love

  The wedding’s off but the honeymoon is on…

  Jilted

  © 2013 Kelly Jamieson

  Promise Harbor Wedding, Book 1

  Devon can do this. She can show up at her ex-boyfriend Josh’s wedding, even though he’s marrying her ex-best-friend. She can show everyone she’s happy with her fabulous life in Boston, her great career, her amazing shoes—and she can show everyone she’s over him.

  Truth is, her life isn’t so fabulous. She’s just been downsized out of her job, her Jimmy Choos won’t pay her mortgage, and…she’s still heartbroken that Josh chose family over her. The real reason she’s enduring this wedding is that her next stop is nearby Greenbush Island, her last hope of finding a new job.

  Josh knows marrying long-time friend Allie will make everyone happy after the rough time their families have been through, and since the woman he really wanted to marry chose her career and big city life over him—why not?

  But the perfect wedding turns into a perfect disaster when Allie leaves him at the altar for another man. He never saw that coming! But hey, Devon’s there, offering to help him look for Allie on Greenbush Island, where he’d planned their honeymoon. Only, all they find there are their old feelings for each other and a temptation to risk their hearts one more time…

  Warning: This book contains a firefighter hot enough to ignite flames, a woman who doesn’t want to get burned again, a honeymoon suite but no honeymoon, and sex not on the beach (sorry).

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Jilted:

  Josh squinted at the label on the beer bottle he held, trying to focus his eyes on it with considerable difficulty. “Is this beer really called Bromance?” he asked Jackson, his best friend and the best man at his wedding tomorrow. They’d been sitting in Stone’s Sports Bar for the last…how long? Josh had lost track, and all his other buddies had headed home. Only he and Jackson were left after going out with the guys the night before the wedding.

  “Yes. Bromance Brown Ale.”

  Josh nodded. “Okay. Good. I love you, man.”

  “Maybe time to get you home,” Jackson said.

  “No. I don’t wanna go home yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Josh now tried to focus on the wood grain of the small table. How could he tell Jackson the truth? He didn’t want to go home because then he’d go to bed and fall asleep—or pass out—and when he woke up it would be his wedding day.

  “I might be having cold feet,” he mumbled.

  Jackson leaned closer. “What’s that? What’d you say?”

  Josh sighed. “I might be having cold feet.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows flew up. “About the wedding?”

  “No, about getting up from this table.” Then he laughed loudly. Damn, he was funny. Drunk, but funny.

  “Shit, man, are you serious? You want to back out of the wedding?”

  “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Jackson eyed him. “But you have doubts.”

  Josh sighed. “Doesn’t every guy before
he straps on the old ball and chain?” Then he slumped a little. He’d never thought of Allie as a “ball and chain” and that was really unfair. She was awesome and he wanted to marry her. He did. “Didn’t mean that,” he mumbled.

  “I guess some guys do.” Jackson grimaced and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve never had the guts to even propose to someone, so I wouldn’t know. But yeah, it’s probably normal to feel a little nervous about it. It’s a big step. It’s serious.”

  “Yeah. Serious. You’re not helping, dude.”

  Jackson grinned. “Sorry. Okay, how’s this. You’ve known Allie forever. You love her. You love her family. They love you. Your mom is thrilled to pieces about this. The whole town is behind you on this. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You two are going to have a long and happy life together.”

  Josh nodded, still looking down at the table. “Still not helping.”

  Jackson gave him a hearty slap on the back, nearly knocking him off his stool. “You’ll be fine. Once you’re up there at the front of the church watching Allie walk down the aisle looking like a million bucks, you’ll be so glad you’re marrying her.”

  Josh picked up his Bromance Brown Ale and drained it. “Right. Absholutely. Can’t wait.”

  “Fuck.” Jackson eyed him. With all four or maybe five eyes. “You’re hammered.”

  “No I am not.” Josh straightened. “I’m fine. Let’s have another round.”

  “Nope. I am doing my best man duty and hauling your ass out of here. You’re already going to need a large bottle of Tylenol and a jug of Visine in the morning.”

  “Oh, all right.” Josh slid off the stool and held on to the table for a moment when the floor shifted just a bit underneath his feet. Hey, was that an earthquake? If there was a major earthquake they probably wouldn’t be able to have the wedding tomorrow.