Done with Men Forever
S. Jane Scheyder
When a scandal forces her to rethink her career path, Becky Jacobs finds herself working at her perfect sister's perfect little Bed & Breakfast. To make matters worse, she must cater to the whims of her insufferable houseguest, a brooding ex-NFL player named Tank. The only logical course of action? Swear off men. Forever.
If only Becky were less charming.
“A delightful read that may make readers want to move to New England, stay in a B&B, and fall in love.” Kirkus Reviews
For Jacob, Michael, Daniel, Mary and Hannah
Done with Men Forever
S. Jane Scheyder
Published by Andres & Blanton
Niantic, Connecticut
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2014 by S. Jane Scheyder
Cover artwork by Jacob Scheyder
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations for use in reviews. For information, contact: Andres & Blanton, 42 Corey Lane, Niantic, CT 06357.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Ebook ISBN 978-0-9830318-8-8
www.andresblanton.com
one
Becky Jacobs climbed the steps to the porch of the old Victorian inn, debating whether she should knock or just go inside. She peered through one of the parlor windows and then immediately pulled back. One didn’t look in the windows of the newlywed’s house, even if it had been one’s home for the past six weeks.
She sighed. Maybe her sister, Maddy, was having coffee on the beachside porch with her new husband. Becky circled the house and found the porch empty. She glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock. It sure wasn’t her idea to show up this early.
Might as well take a walk. She started down the beach, waving to the occasional neighbor - people she’d started getting to know over the past few weeks while she lived with Maddy. Not many were left; most had returned to their real homes in the real world.
Funny, Becky had left her real home in the real world and now hovered on the edges of someone else’s reality, with no real direction of her own. At twenty-seven, she wasn’t quite ready to panic. Despite recently losing her teaching position and now working a pity job at her perfect sister’s inn, Becky was not about to give up hope. She wouldn’t be stuck in this tiny, coastal Maine town forever.
She reached the Clairmont public beach, remembering the day she’d spent there with Maddy during the summer. They’d worn fabulous new swimwear and had the attention of nearly every male on the sand. Not that Maddy had noticed. She was so heartbroken over her little fight with her boyfriend, she didn’t realize she had guys waiting in line to take his place. That was just another difference between them. Maddy was irritatingly single-minded. Becky believed in variety.
She circled back toward Maddy’s Inn. Nearing the house, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up on the day after your wedding in the arms of the one man in the world you had waited for. Becky slowed and approached the porch. Her thoughts were positively maudlin. She would not think about her sister or how she’d spent the last twelve hours. It was none of her business. She wouldn’t give it another thought.
***
“But seriously, tell me.”
Maddy Fordham didn’t even spare a glance for Becky as she put the carafe back in the coffee maker. “The water’s so choppy today. Must be windy.”
“You can’t distract me,” Becky pressed. “How was ... everything?”
“ ‘Everything’ is none of your business, and you know it,” Maddy said with more of an edge than Becky expected.
Maddy did look a little haggard. Must have been a long night. “You look pretty rough. Long night?”
Maddy poured cream in her coffee and put the carton away in the fridge with a sigh. “John will be back any minute with the boys.”
“Okay, we’ll make this fast.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll guess, and then you can, you know, correct me if I’m wrong.”
Maddy rolled her eyes.
“I know. So this is what I imagine. You had a romantic ride home in that horse-drawn carriage ...”
“Didn’t work out. The driver got the flu. We came home in John’s truck.”
Becky smiled, undeterred. “He carried you over the threshold and up the stairs ...”
She waited for Maddy’s revised version, but only received a scowl, so she went on, “ ... into the Captain’s Quarters, which was full of balloons.” She glanced at her sister. “Nice touch, huh?”
“Hilarious.” Maddy’s expression did not suggest that she was amused. “I just asked for some cheese and crackers and maybe a bottle of,” she choked a little, “champagne.”
“I did all that, too. And the chocolate covered strawberries,” Becky pointed out. “And the ...”
“I know, I know,” Maddy interrupted her. “You thought of everything.”
Becky smiled smugly. “Yes, I did. And really, you don’t seem very grateful.” She sat back with her coffee. “Maddy, what happened?” It suddenly occurred to her that Maddy might not have had the memorable night that she’d tried not to imagine.
“Nothing.”
“Fine, don’t tell me. But really, Maddy, ‘nothing’ on your wedding night is a bit of a stretch, even for you.”
Maddy swirled the coffee in her mug.
A few more minutes of strained silence confirmed Becky’s growing suspicion that all had not been magical at Maddy’s Inn the night before.
“Please tell me that ‘nothing’ means you don’t want to tell me. I mean, I know you don’t want to tell me, but tell me this is your way of not telling me, and not that there’s nothing to tell.”
Becky watched Maddy’s face carefully and felt an incredibly unwelcome sense of remorse when her sister teared up.
“I’m sorry, Maddy, I shouldn’t have ... It’s none of my business. Just tell me that John isn’t ...”
Maddy blinked. “Isn’t what?”
Becky stalled. “I don’t know. He was interested, right?”
Maddy shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I assume he was, but I wasn’t ...”
“You weren’t?”
“No! Yes! Of course I was! I just didn’t, I couldn’t ...”
“Oh Maddy, of course you could!”
“Just let me finish!” Maddy sighed. “Everyone kept refilling my champagne glass last night - congratulating us and toasting us - and you know how tired I was, and I don’t drink much.”
“And you passed out.” Becky bit back a smile.
Maddy slumped over her coffee. “Yes,” she whispered.
“And you didn’t ...” Becky inhaled. “Was John mad?”
Maddy looked up. “Of course not. At least not that I could tell.” She stared at her coffee. “I vaguely remember coming home, and yes, he carried me, but only because I couldn’t walk.”
Becky shook her head in wonder.
“The next thing I knew, the sun was streaming through the windows - killing my eyes - and John was getting ready to pick up his boys.”
Becky considered her sister. There were so many ways she could respond to this unusual dilemma - very few of them charitable. She opted for gracious. “It’s not such a big deal,” she ventured.
“It’s a huge deal!�
�� Maddy moaned. “It was going to be so perfect, being together for the first time in the place where we met.”
“I thought you met at the post office.”
Maddy lifted her head long enough to glare at Becky. “You know what I mean.”
Becky sipped her coffee. “It’s kinda funny, really. You got married and didn’t - ah ...”
Maddy continued to glare.
“Whereas I ...” Becky’s smirk was a little forced.
Maddy raised her eyebrows. “You what?” She shook her head. “Oh, Becky. Who?”
A shriek and a stampede of little footsteps announced the arrival of John’s two young sons, Blake and Parker, through the front door. Maddy, eyeing Becky with concern, stood and set her mug on the counter in preparation for the body slam hug that was in store.
“Miss Maddy!” Parker burst into the room with a five-year-old roar. “We’re here!” He ran into her arms and hugged her fiercely.
“Hey, Parkerpants! Thanks for the heads-up. I would never have known!” Maddy hugged him back. “Where’s Blake?”
“He’s helping Dad get something out of the truck. And Burt, too.”
Becky smiled at the idea of Maddy’s huge Irish wolfhound helping John and Blake unload.
“Well, we’d better get out the donuts,” her sister replied.
“Yes!” Parker released her and jumped up on the bar stool, noticing Becky for the first time. “Hi, Miss Becky! Your hair’s messy. What happened?”
Now used to Parker’s candid observations, Becky smoothed her hair. She didn’t do messy, by anyone’s standards. “I walked on the beach this morning. What’s your excuse?”
Parker grinned and turned as the door opened. Burt trailed Blake into the kitchen, and both approached Maddy for their requisite hugs.
“How are you, Blake?” Maddy smiled at his proper, ‘Fine, Miss Maddy,’ while Burt greeted her effusively.
“How is he ever going to make it two weeks without you?” Becky asked, eyeing the dog with concern.
Maddy laughed and scratched his ears. “He loves you, too, Becky. You’ll have a great time together.”
“Right,” she replied doubtfully, as Burt finally left Maddy’s side and walked past in search of his water bowl.
“So, Blake,” Becky addressed John’s older son. “You’re hanging out with your aunt and cousin for the next couple of weeks?”
Blake nodded. “They’re coming to stay at our house with us.”
“Yeah, we don’t get to go on vacation with Dad,” Parker explained. “It’s for grownups.”
Becky smiled, glancing over at Maddy. “Well, maybe next time you can go.”
The familiar sound of John’s boots on the dining room floor drew the girls’ attention. Maddy shot Becky a warning glance as the door swung open.
John Fordham stopped in the threshold, apparently unprepared to be the sole focus of the two women in the room. “Everything okay?”
Becky smiled, biting her tongue as she considered the six-foot-something, handsome guy her sister had married the day before. Lucky girl.
Maddy reached up to kiss his cheek. “Hi, John.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a compelling kiss. Becky rolled her eyes and looked over at the boys, who’d walked over to mess with Burt. At least they’re occupied, she thought, drumming her fingers on the counter.
“Hey, Blake and Parker,” she finally said. “Let’s go hunt for treasures on the beach.”
They jumped up immediately. “Can Burt come?”
“Burt’s the only one who can lead us to the treasure,” she assured them. Sparing a quick glance at Maddy and John, she said, “We’re going on an adventure. It’ll probably take a while.”
With that, she was out the door, herding her three very energetic boys onto the porch. She grabbed Burt’s leash, and led them down to the sand.
“Better bring those buckets, guys. We’ve got some digging to do.”
two
One more broken nail, and she was going to quit. Becky stopped scrubbing the bathroom floor and looked down in dismay at her right hand. Where were her perfectly manicured fingernails? She should have taken the time to find those stupid, ugly, rubber gloves, but she’d been too lazy. She’d always taken pride in her hands, and this cleaning up after people business was taking a toll.
Straightening up, she looked in the mirror and blew a wisp of hair out of her face; another part of her that had taken a hit. No highlights - not a decent cut in months. She reached up to tuck the blonde strands behind her ear, then recoiled in disgust. No way she would touch her hair with that hand. Groaning, she leaned on the sink and looked out through the bedroom windows to the ocean. How did she end up cleaning bathrooms in her sister’s B & B?
Maddy and John had been on their honeymoon for a week, and Becky refused to think about them. She had enough on her plate running the inn while her sister started her wonderful new life with her gorgeous contractor. There was no point in bemoaning their very different life directions.
She washed her hands and walked out into the bedroom. Stepping onto the balcony, she breathed in the unseasonably warm-for-mid-October, salty air. She tried to see the ocean through her sister’s eyes. Certainly, she admired it from an artist’s point of view. That particular blue-green of the waves would be fun to recreate on canvas; the white caps broke up the color with a rhythm she thought she could capture. Still, Maddy seemed to draw a kind of inspiration from the water that Becky simply didn’t understand.
She looked down the beach at the neighboring cottages and homes. How could Maddy stand being out here by herself?
But Maddy wasn’t by herself, anymore. She had John now, and Blake and Parker. She wouldn’t be tormented by the quiet. Becky shuddered despite the warm sun on her skin. She didn’t like being alone. For someone who’d lived on her own for the past five years, she’d spent very little of that time by herself. These past weeks at Maddy’s had been very eye-opening, and she wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.
Becky drew in another deep breath. She’d go crazy if she spent another minute alone. Even Burt would be a distraction. She left the balcony, disheartened by the fact that she, the girl who used to have it all together, who always dressed perfectly and surrounded herself with interesting people, was reduced to wearing sweats, cleaning bathrooms, and seeking out the company of a dog.
It was better than the human alternative.
Becky tip-toed past the door of the only other person in the house on her way to get bedding from the Anchor Room. It wasn’t likely that the obnoxious, ex-pro-football player would show his face on this Sunday afternoon, but she wasn’t in the mood to take any chances. Hearing nothing as she leaned toward his door, she turned to the room across the hall. She’d be so glad when he finally left.
Her own shriek startled her. “What are you doing in here?”
The hulking former athlete turned from the window and scowled at her. “Same thing you are. Nothing.”
Becky drew a calming breath and imagined herself perfectly coiffed and wearing Versace. Her confidence rallied a bit, and she started pulling sheets from the bed.
“I’m cleaning. I run the place, remember?”
He snorted. “Right, the maid. Nice pants.”
Becky’s dressed-to-kill fantasy evaporated as she looked down at her oldest pair of striped pajama pants. Not even sweats. She hadn’t expected to see anyone this afternoon, least of all the Neanderthal from the Seashell Room. She pulled her T-shirt down to no avail. The gap exposing her midriff would normally escape her notice, but it drew his gaze, and she was determined not to give him any more of a show. She grabbed the sheets and stalked toward the door. She reached back and awkwardly hiked up her pants - holding the sheets in front of her didn’t protect her backside - and immediately dropped half her load.
He actually laughed. She kicked the sheets out into the hall, refusing to bend down and pick them up while he was in viewing range. Safely behind the door, she l
eaned back in.
“I’ll be back here in ten to clean. Please be gone. I’ve already taken out the trash.”
***
The woman drove him crazy. Tank Kimball stepped into the hall and made sure she was gone before heading back into his room. He couldn’t even have a few minutes to look at the ocean without her barging in on his peace and quiet. Why’d she give him a room without a view, anyway? It wasn’t like she had any other guests.
He walked into his room and slammed the door, rattling the silly seascape painting on the wall. A tiny twinge of conscience made him walk over and adjust the picture. He loved the water, but this painting irritated him. The artist didn’t get it, somehow. He glanced at the bottom right corner, and for the first time noticed the name - her name. She painted? He grunted. No wonder the picture made him mad.
He stretched and yawned, prowling the room. He’d come back to Clairmont to clear his head and plan for the future. He wanted to get away from people who knew him and who knew football and what a mess his career had become. He came to be alone and to think. The last thing he wanted was to be at the mercy of a blonde know-it-all who brought out the worst in him.
The bed groaned under his weight as he sat down. When had ignoring each other become open animosity? And what was his sister thinking, sticking him out here with this paper doll who knew nothing about running an inn and everything about irritating him? It’s not like he was known for his charm, but for some reason, he found himself determined to be nasty to the woman whose job it was to take care of him - for another whole week.
He lay back on the bed and moaned. He’d never make it.
Footsteps sounded in the hall; she was probably returning to clean the room they’d just left. Was she getting ready for more guests? Who else would he have to try to avoid? He pulled himself off the bed and walked over to the window. Nice view of the neighbor’s house.
Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 1
