Unraveled

by Heidi McCahan

  nineteen

  Those confident hands tangled in her hair, his lips moving over her mouth, her neck—she was breathless. Her heart pounded and desire coursed through her extremities. A knock sounded on the front door and Lauren planted her hand on Blake’s chest and pushed away. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at him. “What have we done?” she whispered.

  He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I think it’s called kissing.”

  “You have to go.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

  “Yes,” she hissed and grabbed his coat.

  The knock sounded again, louder this time. “Don’t you want to see who’s at the door?”

  “No. Yes.” She tossed his jacket at him and smoothed her hand over her curls. Heart still hammering, she took a few steps on jittery legs toward the door. How did this happen? One minute she was handing him a bag of peas, the next she was on his lap.

  She paused and checked her reflection in the hall mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, no doubt from the stubble on his jaw grazing her skin. She glanced back at the couch. Blake hadn’t moved. His eyes met hers and he winked. Another delicious wave of excitement washed over her. She’d forgotten how much she missed his touch. Wait. The door—

  Muted conversation came through the door and she reached for the knob. Her palms were sweaty and it took two tries to unlock the deadbolt and open the front door. A well-dressed couple stood on the porch, clutching the handles of their suitcases.

  “Hi, I’m Lauren. May I help you?”

  “Yes, we’re the Sullivans. I believe we have a reservation tonight.” The man stared at her over the top of his wire rimmed glasses. His salt and pepper hair was neatly combed and he wore a navy blazer over a plaid button down. His khaki pants were heavily starched with a crisp seam down the middle of each leg. The woman stood behind him in wool slacks and a black sweater, staring over his shoulder.

  “Please come in.” Lauren stepped back.

  They pulled their suitcases over the threshold into the hallway. The woman paused when she saw the guestbook. “Look, Frank. Another couple from Chicago was here.”

  A bat cracked and applause rang out, drawing Frank into the living room. Lauren groaned inwardly. She heard Blake introduce himself and launch into a quick recap of the inning. So much for getting him out of here.

  “What brings you to Alaska?”

  Mrs. Sullivan set down the pen and smiled. “This is our fortieth wedding anniversary gift to each other.”

  “Happy anniversary,” Lauren said. Disappointment jabbed her in the gut. This is the kind of information Mom should be collecting for reservations. If she had known it was a special occasion, they could have placed fresh flowers in the Sullivan’s room or arranged for a romantic dinner out. Guests needed to know the Inn would go the extra mile to make their trip memorable.

  “My, you have a lovely place here.” Mrs. Sullivan followed the conversation into the living room, glancing around as she walked. Her eyes landed on Blake. “Oh, hello. Are you Lauren’s husband?”

  An awkward silence ensued. Lauren rubbed her neck. “No, we’re not … together.” She refused to look at Blake.

  Mrs. Sullivan’s eyes bounced between Lauren and Blake. “Oh, excuse me. Two young people in such a romantic setting, I just thought—I’m sorry.”

  Lauren folded her arms across her chest, heat flooding her cheeks once again. She swallowed hard. “This is Blake Tully, a friend of the family.”

  Blake waved, his lips curved in a half smile. Oh, how that infernal dimple taunted her. She had to get him out of there.

  “May I show you to your room, Mrs. Sullivan?”

  The woman returned to her luggage. “Absolutely. Frank,” she called over her shoulder, “let’s go see our room.”

  Mr. Sullivan turned around, a look of annoyance flashed across his face. “The bases are loaded, Pam. Just a minute.”

  Lauren shifted from one foot to the other. Before she could explain the procedures for breakfast, the front door opened. Mom and Dad came in, engrossed in conversation. They stopped and smiled at the strangers in their living room. Mom walked right over and extended her hand. “You must be Pam Sullivan. I’m Debbie Carter. Welcome to the Inn at the Cove.” The introductions continued and Lauren’s heart sank as Dad greeted Blake with a hearty handshake and a slap on the back.

  “Let’s make some coffee. Who wants pie?” Mom’s eyes twinkled as she tugged on Lauren’s sleeve and pulled her into the kitchen. Mrs. Sullivan followed, her heels clicking on the hardwood.

  Lauren grabbed the half and half from the fridge and a clean pitcher from the cabinet.

  Pam Sullivan perched on a bar stool at the counter. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Always.” Mom pulled the foil off of two pies and selected a knife from the block beside the sink. “My parents built this house before I was born.”

  “Has it always been a bed and breakfast?”

  “No,” Mom said. “It was originally a place for unwed mothers to deliver their babies.”

  The forks slipped from Lauren’s hand and clattered to the floor. Mrs. Sullivan flinched. “I’m sorry.” Lauren picked up the forks and set them in the sink. Her heart sped up. A home for unwed mothers? Maybe that’s why Granny was confused.

  “I can’t imagine giving birth way out here in the boondocks,” Mrs. Sullivan said.

  Lauren grimaced. Me either.

  “Well, it was kind of the only option until the hospital was open.” Mom glanced at Lauren. “Would you mind getting the coffee started?”

  Lauren nodded and rifled in the cabinet for a clean filter.

  “So how did you decide to start a bed and breakfast?”

  Mom went into her usual spiel about the Inn. Lauren measured coffee into the filter and moved to the sink to fill the carafe with water. When she turned back to the coffee maker, she collided with Blake and water sloshed out of the carafe onto his shirt. She gasped and he clutched her to him. Great. Their eyes met and she was certain he could hear her heart pounding. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard and slowly removed his hand from her waist.

  “Sorry,” he murmured and held up the bag of peas. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I, um, thought these should go back in the freezer.” He brushed past her and opened the freezer.

  Lauren parted her lips to speak but nothing came out. She managed a nod. What was I doing? She looked down at her shaky hand, still holding the carafe. Coffee. Right. She moved back to the coffeemaker, poured the water in and clicked the ‘brew’ button. Her other hand fluttered to her neck. It was on fire. How did he do that? She couldn’t let her mother see how flustered she was. Deep breaths. Not a big deal.

  “Are you hungry, Blake?” Mom asked. “I have pecan pie and also strawberry rhubarb.”

  No. No pie. Lauren willed him to decline the offer. You have got to go.

  Blake groaned and rubbed his stomach. Lauren pretended to be mesmerized by the coffee brewing. “I better not. Lauren already let me have some of your fantastic cookies. I need to get going.”

  “Next time, then.” Mom waved. “Good night.”

  Lauren took a deep breath and turned toward him. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Blake smiled at Mrs. Sullivan. “Nice to meet you. Happy anniversary.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lauren led the way out of the kitchen. “What a charming young man,” she heard Mrs. Sullivan say. Blake grinned. Lauren rolled her eyes.

  Dad and Mr. Sullivan stood in front of the fireplace, deep in conversation. Blake said goodnight and grabbed his jacket off the couch. Lauren stood by the front door, arms crossed.

  “Did you hear that?” Blake nudged her with his shoulder as he walked by. “She thinks I’m charming.”

  Lauren tried her best to look annoyed. “She just met you. Give it time.”

  He laughed a deep throaty laugh and zipped up his jacket. He looked into her eyes and amusement was replaced
with smoldering desire. Lauren panicked. He wasn’t going to kiss her again, was he? Her eyes darted to the fireplace. Not in front of her parents and their guests.

  “Thanks for bringing my stuff by.” She reached past him and opened the door with a flourish. He hesitated, studying her for a minute. He dipped his chin to his chest and moved out onto the porch. She slipped out behind him and pulled the door shut. It was chilly once the sun slid behind the mountain and she shivered.

  Please. Go.

  He stepped down one step and turned to face her, his hand resting on the porch railing. “Lauren, about tonight—”

  She put up one hand. “You don’t have to say it. I understand.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

  “Of course. It was a mistake. You don’t have to apologize.”

  She wished it was dark so she didn’t have to see the anger flash in his eyes.

  “Is that all I am to you? A mistake?” His voice was rough.

  She chewed her lip. Silence hung heavy between them. Her heart ached. I can’t do this. “Blake, I—”

  He shook his head and stepped down one more step, his posture stiff. “Goodnight, Lauren. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Sure.” She watched him walk to his truck. Every step was like a dagger in her heart. He climbed in and drove away without looking back.

  She slid down the door and sat huddled on the porch. Tears threatened to fall and she drew a ragged breath. The wall she’d carefully constructed was starting to crumble. A few minutes in his arms and she was falling for him all over again. Blake squealed his tires at the bottom of the hill. Her stomach twisted. This was a one way ticket to heartbreak. For both of them. If he knew the truth, there’s no way he would ever forgive her. When was she ever going to learn?

  twenty

  Lauren tossed and turned all night. As the first light of a new day dawned, she threw back the quilt and stared at the ceiling. The memory of Blake’s soft lips on hers flashed in her mind. And she’d kissed him back. Didn’t even have the good sense to protest.

  It was just a kiss. Lighten up. It didn’t mean anything.

  But the expression on his face last night told her it meant something to him. Blake. Her first love. The minute his hand touched the nape of her neck, it all came rushing back. They’d parked out at Jess’s cabin, wrapped in sleeping bags in the bed of his old truck underneath a canopy of stars—no.

  She sat straight up and flung her feet over the side of the bed. We’re not doing this today.

  Shoving her feet into her slippers, she stood up and her phone fell on the floor.

  “Good grief.” Must have fallen asleep surfing the net. The battery icon on the screen blinked its warning. She’d have to find her charger. Two missed texts and a voicemail waited. She touched the screen tentatively and read the texts. Both were from Holden, asking her to call him. The voicemail was more of the same. He said it was urgent. Whatever.

  She tossed her phone on the bed then padded toward the bathroom. The mirror reflected puffy eyes shrouded in dark circles. A hot shower did little to erase her fatigue. Voices floated up the stairs. The Sullivans were already up and ready to start their day. She dressed quickly and twisted her hair into a bun. If she could get breakfast going, maybe her parents could catch a few extra minutes of sleep. She pasted on a smile and went downstairs.

  Aunt Jane hovered in front of the coffeemaker, humming softly as hot coffee trickled into the carafe. Mom stood at the counter, whisking eggs in a mixing bowl, brow furrowed. A dense layer of fog still hung low over the bay while sunshine streamed in the window, bathing the kitchen in a soft yellow light.

  “Good morning,” Lauren said.

  Aunt Jane turned, the bangles on her wrist jangling. She was already dressed in white pants that emphasized her long legs and a coral pink sweater set that must have cost a fortune. “Good morning, dear. My, you look exhausted. Up late?”

  Gee, thanks. “Just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Lauren went to the dishwasher and opened it, pulling out three clean mugs. She set them on the counter then slid onto one of the bar stools across from Mom.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.” Mom slowed the whisk and studied her. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “I know this isn’t the best time.” She cast a meaningful glance in the direction of Aunt Jane. “But Blake made a great suggestion yesterday that I think we should consider.”

  “Oh?” Mom opened a package of ham and started dicing.

  “What if we host a raffle at our booth during the festival? We could give away a free night’s stay. He said we could combine it with a sea kayaking trip. It could be a fun date or a romantic getaway…”

  “Are they still carrying on with that silly festival?” Jane brought the coffee carafe over to the counter and filled the mugs. “Honestly. You think they’d come up with some fresh ideas after all these years.”

  Uh oh. Mom pressed her lips into a thin line. An awkward silence hovered over them.

  “The festival actually draws a pretty big crowd. Blake might be on to something,” Mom said.

  “Deb, you can’t be serious.” Jane tipped a spoonful of sugar into her mug, shaking her head. “Total waste of time.”

  Lauren opened her mouth to object, then clamped it shut and went to the fridge for some half and half instead. This conflict between Mom and Aunt Jane probably wasn’t about the festival, anyway. There was definitely something deeper going on here.

  “I’d like to hear more before I make a decision, Jane.”

  Lauren returned to her stool, poured half and half into her coffee and avoided making eye contact with Aunt Jane. “I know this is all very last minute. But other than the tickets and a little bit of advertising, it wouldn’t cost much to pull this off.”

  “Is food included?” Jane blew on her coffee. “That costs something.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea. That’s generous of Blake to include us.” Mom dumped the chopped ham into a bowl and handed a block of cheese to Lauren. “Would you mind grating some cheese for the omelets?”

  “Sure.” Lauren got up and stepped around Aunt Jane, then rummaged through a drawer for the grater.

  “And who do you suppose is going to buy one of these tickets?” Jane plucked a bite of ham from the bowl and popped it in her mouth.

  Seriously. Back off. “Anybody can participate. I can’t speak for Blake, but we have immediate availability here. Tickets will be cheap, anyway.” Lauren talked through the details while she opened the cheese.

  “How cheap? If you have to split the proceeds with this Blake fellow you need to think about that.”

  Lauren winced. She and Blake hadn’t bothered to discuss dollars and cents. And after last night, she didn’t exactly relish the thought of speaking with him anytime soon. “I don’t know. Maybe a dollar a ticket?”

  “A dollar? That’s only—”

  “Jane.” Mom set the knife down and gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, eyes downcast. “That’s enough.”

  “I know what I’m talking about, Deb. I’ve spent the last fifteen years running a successful business in San Diego.”

  Mom let go of the counter and turned to face her sister, cheeks flushed. “This isn’t San Diego and I didn’t ask for your opinion. Feel free to stay for breakfast, but this discussion is over.”

  Whoa. Score one for Mom. Jane’s eyes narrowed, her fingers tightened around her mug.

  Before she had a chance to respond Mrs. Sullivan breezed into the kitchen, with Mr. Sullivan not far behind. “Good morning. Wow, that coffee smells delightful. May I have some?” Her eyes flitted from Lauren to Mom and then stopped on Aunt Jane. Her brow arched. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Of course not.” Mom pasted on a smile and tipped her head toward Jane. “We’re just taking care of some family business. This is my sister, Jane. Jane, Pam Sullivan and her husband, Frank.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you had a sister. My, what a lovel
y blouse.” Mrs. Sullivan extended her hand to Jane.

  “Jane Watson Merrill Montgomery.” Aunt Jane accepted Mrs. Sullivan’s hand and gave her a cool appraisal. “Thank you. It’s part of Cabi’s spring selection. Are you familiar with Cabi?”

  This should be interesting. Lauren busied herself with serving breakfast while Aunt Jane steered the conversation in a direction that suited her. It quickly became apparent that Mr. Sullivan was eager to get going but his wife lingered at the table. She and Aunt Jane traded stories of their many shopping experiences in Paris. As Lauren washed the mixing bowl, her breath hitched at the mention of France. She wanted to see Paris. Just once. Since Holden had broken their engagement, that dream was gone, too. Holden. She’d left her phone upstairs on purpose. What could he possibly want with his repeated calls and texts?

  Blake sat in the driver’s seat of his truck with the window rolled down. He drained his insulated mug of the last remnants of coffee and nested it back in the console. He should get out and act like he cared about their customers. But after last night, he couldn’t get excited about much of anything. Guilt hung over him like a dark cloud. He shouldn’t have kissed her. For once he’d acted spontaneously and look where it got him. A mistake. That’s what he was to her. Maybe she was right. He really had no business kissing her like that after she’d just been dumped.

  Jeremy waved at him and Blake reached for his helmet on the passenger seat. With a heavy sigh, he got out of the truck and headed toward the yellow rafts anchored on the rocky shore. A family of eight stood at the edge of the river and donned their rain gear while Jeremy gave the safety instructions. They were discussing how to divide up and fill both rafts.

  “Age before beauty,” commented the oldest male and probably the father as he planted one foot inside Blake’s raft.