Pleasures of Promise Lake

by Marti Shane

  PLEASURES OF PROMISE LAKE

  Marti Shane

  The best relationship advice Mom ever gave me.

  “Sugar, I’m just gonna love him through this.”

  I miss you.

  Chapter One

  Sam ducked under the awning of the building facing hers, using the rain as an excuse not to cross the street. The medical supply truck was gone. Who would’ve thought you could have an emotional attachment to bedside commodes or hospital beds? Her brother called for the pick-up. Nick’s efficiency was annoying but required in a ripping off a Band-Aid kind of way.

  “Jesus, Sam!” She blinked, Charlie appearing from nowhere. “Let’s get you inside.” He tugged gently at her arm, hovering a black umbrella over their heads. She commanded one foot in front of the other, splashing across the busy street. Chill climbed in prickly bumps up her arms when they hit the cool air of the lobby. “She’s here,” Charlie reported to the Concierge, who immediately picked up the house phone. He shook out the umbrella and stored it away before smoothing down his embroidered lapels. “Nick’s been calling you. You didn’t pick up your phone.” Her hand went to her pocket instinctively, realizing she’d left it behind. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

  “So?” Charlie cooled his anxiety, reaching to the breast pocket of his coat. If he pulled out a hanky she was going to shrink into her shoes. Being a mess wasn’t her thing. Instead, he pulled out a small envelope.

  “These came for you.” He gestured behind him to the massive array of flowers. Fresh flowers usually adorned the large table, but these were Gram’s favorite. Sunflowers were scattered about the arrangement almost mocking the rain. “The instructions were to give you the card personally.” She swallowed hard as she slid the condolence into the back pocket of her jeans. “I’m sorry about Sloane.”

  “Thank you.” She met his eyes briefly before heading for the stairs. “Keep any deliveries at the desk, I’ll come down later.” Hitting the spiral staircase, she took the ancient stairs two at a time.

  “Sam, wait.” Charlie’s black patent leathers echoed off the stairs behind her. She ignored him, in need of a bath, warm clothes, and her couch. The order didn’t really matter. Her footsteps fell silent against the upstairs carpet as she headed for her private hall. She focused through exhausted eyes at the fluorescent blur on her door. “Sam?” Charlie was on her heels.

  She blinked to bring the print into focus. Notice to vacate? Words spewed from Charlie’s mouth, but she couldn’t hear over the roar in her ears. Heart pounding in her chest, she blinked again as if the paper would change. A metal hinge connected the door to the jam, a padlock securing its hold. She spun around, exhaustion replaced with rage.

  “What is this? I own this.” Or, at least Gram did. “Take this off,” she demanded. Voices echoed up the service stairs at the end of the hall. A radio squawked, like a walkie talkie, and Sam turned to the metal door. Nick.

  Four beeps sounded as he punched in the code, the door swinging with too much force as he plowed through. The minute his eyes landed on her, he stilled. Jaw locking tight, his nostrils flared with each calculated breath. A friendlier uniform emerged behind him, spinning the button on the radio attached to his hip. It silenced, and he gave her a nod.

  “You must be Sam.” The officer slid past Nick. Lifting his phone, he clicked a shot of her door. “Just need a picture before I can cut it off.” Nick stewed through the officer’s quick click and cut routine, then ripped the notice from the door. The glass bowl of keys shook on the entry table as the door slammed and closed them in. She snatched the paper from his grasp before he stomped to the kitchen.

  “Pack a bag.” The heavy lock thumped against the empty trash bin. Beneath the bold black letters, she read the company name. Kramer Industries. She eyed Nick pulling a water from the fridge. He rolled the cool bottle across his forehead before twisting the lid. “You can stay with me until I get this sorted out.”

  “You?” She wadded the notice, tossing it onto the stack of mail. “No. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Go pack.” He ignored her demand, still not facing her. “You’re not staying here.”

  “Did Gram take out a loan? Tell me.” She fanned the stack of mail from their neatly stacked pile, studying the senders: Medical bills, insurance, bank statements. Nothing from Kramer Industries. Maybe it had something to do with Sluggers, Gram’s restaurant. Before she could form the question, Nick slammed his half-empty water bottle on the counter.

  “I’ll pack for you.” He pushed past her down the hall.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she yelled, gripping his forearm. He rounded on her; eyes fueled with rage, but not at her. “Are you in trouble?” she asked softly. They hadn’t talked shop in months. He’d even cut off her password. He claimed he didn’t want her distracted with work while she was taking care of Gram. “Is this why you shut my access off? You didn’t want me to know.” He reigned it in, his chest rising and falling under his tailored Armani.

  “No.” His hand scrubbed the tight muscle in his jaw. “The previous owner is contesting the deed.”

  “I’ve lived here since I was six.”

  “Exactly.” He sighed. “Buck set Gram up here when she adopted you. She didn’t own it until he died last year.”

  “Buck Kramer?” Sam shook her head, the puzzle pieces snapping together.

  “Buck’s daughter, Alexis, just pieced it together. The estate manager signed over the deed to Gram, but it wasn’t in Buck’s will.” The room spun beneath her feet, Nick gripping her arms. “Alexis sent a letter requesting the details of the sale. I didn’t want to worry Gram with it.”

  “Gram?” She stepped out of his grasp, her words singeing her throat. “What about me? There’s a fucking lock on my door. I had no idea this was even happening.”

  “You had enough to deal with.”

  Sam pointed her finger in Nick’s face. “This stops now!” Turning her finger to her chest, she put her face in his. “I’m a grown woman. I run a division of your company for fuck sake. Stop sheltering me.”

  “Watch your mouth,” he reprimanded. She rolled her eyes.

  “I assume you talked to Curtis. She can’t just put a lock on the door. We have to go to court.”

  “She’s a Kramer, Sam. They don’t go to court.”

  “So, what? I’m just going to let her throw me out on the street after sixteen years?”

  “You’re going to let me handle it.” The statement was final.

  “Great job so far.” She shoved past him, anger the only fuel she had left. She was running on fumes. She made it halfway down the hall before realizing she passed her room. She was headed for Gram’s out of habit. The door was open, but there was no bed. Imprints of the bed and oxygen machine were pressed into lush carpet. Her arms wrapped around her waist against the sudden chill when she stepped in. She closed her eyes, her hands covering her face as her chest caved in. It was over, and she didn’t know where to start. Her brain tried shutting down, the last twenty-four hours too much to process.

  “Sam?” Nick’s tone was soft but heavy with guilt. “The timing on this is shit.”

  “I didn’t mean it.” She let her hands fall, taking a deep breath before she turned to face him. The small wooden picture frame on the dresser caught her attention, and he followed her gaze. He picked it up, scowling at the picture of Gram holding Maggie. “Gram said she never told the father,” she said.

  “She didn’t until she needed to take you from Maggie.” Nick pulled out a drawer and dropped the frame in. “Buck handled everything.”

  “You knew?”

  “Not the details.” He shut the drawer a little too hard, the antique mirror rattling against
the frame. “I just met him once.”

  “When?” Sam’s gut churned. They never talked about Maggie or their father.

  “It’s not important. Let’s get you packed.” Glancing over the deserted space, she resigned to a change in scenery.

  “You’re not going to let me work this week, are you?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Fine. All the arrangements are made for Saturday. Take me to Promise.” He nodded his agreement.

  “I put Mick on a charter an hour ago.” Her lips lifted in response. “She can drive you back up for the service.” She shook her head.

  “You’re annoyingly perceptive and efficient.”

  Her brain switched between a thousand thoughts and nothing at all as she threw together a few things. It was a processing error, the kind that could be corrected by rebooting the system. Maybe sleeping in for a few days could get her back online. Her stomach groaned a vote, but she couldn’t bear to eat. She locked up, the metal clasp still mounted to her door. It was strange not reporting to Gram where she was going or when she’d be back. There was no worrying if the nurse would remember her favorite juice with her medicine or if she’d get a call about a new symptom. The relief from worry loosened the constant tension in her neck, followed by overwhelming guilt. The hospice nurse told her feeling relieved is perfectly normal, but she couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

  “You need to eat.” Nick navigated the Mercedes through the mid-day Atlanta traffic.

  “I will,” she agreed but knew her stomach wasn’t on board. Rain pounded the windshield, wipers barely keeping up.

  “You’ve got a new client.” He changed the subject.

  “New is good.” She liked setting up new clients, learning their business and how to make things run smoothly. Once everything was up and running, she got bored.

  “They’re construction. They’ve got a project down here.”

  “In Promise? Who?”

  “Jake Jaeger,” Nick announced. For the second time in her life, Sam’s cheeks visibly heated. The first time was when she met Jake. The man’s charm was as lethal as his looks. Plus, what’s sexier than a Major League player at the top of his game? A Major League player with a job. He came home every year to work with his family’s construction firm after his season ended. Nick lifted one of his thick brows. “I thought so.”

  “You thought wrong,” she defended. “He’s friends with Mitch.” Her ex’s name scraped off her tongue. Jake being a client put him off limits, but being friends with her ex was even more reason to resist.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t say. Didn’t ask,” Nick said, speeding up and cutting across three lanes of traffic. Sam clutched the door, anxious to get to the lazy stretch of Promise Pike.

  “I can get him set up this week,” Sam said, suddenly concerned with keeping busy in the solitude. She was restlessly exhausted, her brain needing something to replace the worry and escape the grief.

  “You can start in two weeks.”

  “He’s here. I’m here. It’ll give me something to do.”

  “You have something to do. Rest,” he said, slowing for their exit. “You look like shit.”

  He wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t remember the last time she applied makeup or spent time on her hair. Nick picked up an incoming call, and she tuned in to the rhythm of the wipers and patter of the rain instead. Surrendering to her exhaustion, she let heavy eyelids fall.

  Sam woke to fresh air on her face. Lowering the windows was tradition when they arrived at the lake. Moss swayed from the giant oaks lining the drive, reflecting on the hood in the afternoon sun. Yes, the sun was out, despite drops still shaking free from the trees. The familiar gravel pop didn’t sound from the tires, the ground slicked with mud from all the rain.

  “Looks like they got more rain than us,” Nick said. “I bet the lake’s clear up to the dock.” Sam squinted with sleepy eyes through the thick trees. She could catch the occasional glimpse of sun reflecting off the water but couldn’t make out the shore.

  A welcomed flutter took flight in her belly, the smells and fresh breeze welcoming her home. This was her safe place, where Gram had taken her to escape. Red and Kay had welcomed them for as long as they needed, and she and Mick became life-long friends.

  The gravel was loose from the rain and Nick had the Mercedes at a crawl. The back slid slightly when the front tires topped the wooden bridge. She looked to him when the engine raced but the back tires only spun. His eyes widened as the rear of the car slid, pulling them backwards. Her stomach met her throat, the car going airborne and then slamming hard on the back tires. Nick threw his arm over her chest to pin her to the seat. The seatbelt snatched tight against her skin. He turned the wheel, the car sliding in the opposite direction. Mud and water slung through the window and the lights on the high-tech dash flashed before the windows raised on their own.

  Nick flew toward her, a horrid bang jolting the car. They were spinning, trees in their path as they flew down the bank toward the lake. Nick cursed as they bounced on one front fender, then Sam’s door, the front again and then the rear. Sam opened her eyes, the crunching at a pause. They’d cleared the trees.

  The spinning stopped but they were picking up speed. For the briefest moment she thought this ride would be fun if they weren’t going to die. Closing her eyes for the impact, she gripped Nick to brace him the best she could. They surged forward, the car instantly motionless as the lake swallowed them whole. Her head bounced off her window, eyes flying open, but everything was dark.

  Chapter Two

  Jake stepped into his work boots and threw open the screen door, sick of the tension between him and Jax. His brother, Jax, was toweling off the seat of the ATV between the cabins.

  “Rain stopped,” Jax said, not sparing him a glance. “Figured I’d take a look around.” The rain had them cooped up inside for two days, and Jake had memorized every knot in the knotty pine ceiling. “Wanna ride?”

  “Wanna talk?” Jake countered.

  “Not really,” Jax said, climbing onto the ATV. Jake rested his weight on the passenger side roof, leaning on his forearms. “Fine, you were right,” Jax admitted. “Get in.”

  “I should’ve told you. Sorry,” Jake offered, sliding into the vinyl bucket seat. He knew telling Jax first would only delay what he’d put off for the last year. Firing someone is never easy, especially when they’re your friend.

  “I get it.” Jax fired the engine, brushing off the subject. Mason was more than a friend to Jax, or at least he used to be.

  “Has he called?” Jax shrugged, so Jake snatched his phone to check for himself. “Only seven times?” he noted from the recent contact list. He masked his satisfaction Jax hadn’t picked up the calls. He tossed the phone in the dash compartment as Jax pressed the gas.

  They were careful on the lawn between their cabins and the B&B, but it was game on when they hit the wooded trails around the lake. Their asses left the seat as they bounced over washouts from the rain, Jax’s laugh lifting Jake’s mood. Jake grabbed the roof with one hand, his other gripping the dash when they popped up on two wheels. His pulse played a gratifying rhythm of adrenaline as his cheeks ached from grinning.

  “Whoa!” Jax braked hard for the huge limb across the trail. The tires skidded over slick terrain, catching traction on a downed branch, spraying them with mud, his feet planted firm to keep their weight even as the ass end kicked around to an abrupt stop. “Brake check, good.” Jax’s eyes were as wide as Jake thought his own might be. Mud dotted his neck and chest and he wore a goofy grin Jake hadn’t seen in years. They climbed off in the soupy mud, each of them taking one end of the limb.

  “We’re not going to be able to run equipment out here.” Jake tugged at his side of the limb, popping it from the mud. “This ground needs days to dry up.”

  “Fine with me.” Jax grunted, popping his end free. They hauled the limb off the trail towards the lake. Looking over t
he glassy surface, he said, “I could spend a few extra days.”

  “Really? Time off?” Jake pulled a smaller limb from the trail, clearing debris.

  “It’s not like we’ve got jobs lined up.” Jax shot him a glance. Jake hadn’t stopped at firing Mason; he’d turned away all the bullshit jobs Mason had been bringing in.

  “Maybe you can sketch a few days.” Jake shot back the same glance.

  “Is this your plan? We subcontract for Dad until you decide we’re pulling the right kind of jobs?”

  “Anyone can add a sunroom or remodel a kitchen they saw on Pinterest. We need to do your designs. Besides, when’s the last time you rode a dozer?” Jake grinned.

  “It’s been a while.” Jax tossed broken logs and rocks to the pile. “Who’s replacing Mason?”

  “I lined up a staffing agency.”

  “Temps? No way.”

  “Not temps. Sam, from A. Premiere.”

  Jax crossed his arms over his chest, pinning him in a stare. “What?”

  “Mitch’s Sam?” His jaw clenched at the prick’s name.

  “So?”

  “Tell me your dick didn’t make that decision.”

  “Her boss did. I called and told him what we needed, and he suggested Sam to make us automated as possible in admin. Then she’ll staff you with a personal assistant.”

  “I thought she was a concierge?”

  “She managed the concierge division of A. Premier. Huge difference.” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, matching his brother’s stance. “Fine. She’s attractive.” His admission understated her pouty thick lips, legs for days, and deep green eyes. “But she’s got a stick up her ass.”

  “When does Ms. Attractive-Stick-Up-Her-Ass start?”

  “Two weeks.” Jake rubbed the tension at the back of his neck. “She’s on bereavement.” Jax’s face fell.

  “Shit, man. Not Sloane?” Jake nodded.

  “I didn’t know she was sick, but I haven’t flown through Atlanta for a while.”