The Conflicted Maid of Honor (The Conflicted Love Series Book 2)

by Sharon Sue Thorn

  To his surprise, he made it out of the lobby with ease. Roger greeted him and asked if he needed anything. Fortunately, Pete had already told him where he could find a café.

  Destin was the easiest island to navigate. Highway 98 ran east to west. You either went left or right. He decided to take a left and headed into Fort Walton Beach.

  Ten minutes later, he hit Fort Walton and detoured off the highway. He found a popular coffee chain, ordered a coffee, and found a nice spot outside under an umbrella. As he sipped his coffee, he decided it tasted good enough. The café was nothing like the place he was used to in St. Lucia, but he liked the atmosphere, and it was cozy.

  “Is anyone sitting here?”

  Jenny’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere, above his head. It startled Dominic so ferociously that his coffee swished out of the drink hole on the cup’s lid.

  “Oh my gosh,” Jenny said. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

  Dominic quirked a challenging brow.

  “I mean, I didn’t mean to surprise you. Well, that’s not true, exactly. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  “You followed me, no?”

  Jenny bit her lip. “Yes, I did. But we just happened to be leaving at the same time and when I saw you turn the same direction I was going to go anyway... Well, it’s just that Owen kept changing the subject every time I wanted to ask you something yesterday. I figured this might be my only chance to get the scoop from your point of view.”

  “Have you told Sammie I am in the States?” Dominic eyed her suspiciously.

  Jenny sighed. “It’s good you’re getting right to the point.” She slid into the chair across from him. “No, but it’s killing me to keep it from her. You don’t understand. She’s my best friend, and she would absolutely kill me if she knew I was keeping a secret from her, especially one that concerns you.”

  Dominic leaned forward. “Let’s make a wanjman.”

  Jenny cocked her head.

  “A deal,” he clarified. “Don’t tell her I am here while I am still here.” He wasn’t stupid. There was no way he could convince Jenny to never tell her at all.

  “That seems cruel.” She rested her elbows on the table. “I don’t understand why it has to be a secret.”

  “Ah, Jenny. I don’t want to discuss Sammie with you.”

  “Well, I want you to, dang it.”

  “Is this why I am here?” Dominic wiped off his coffee cup and took a drink. “For you to pry information out of me?”

  Jenny sat back, her mouth gaping. “Absolutely not. I wanted to meet the person who kept my best friend safe when I failed her, and the business is a part of that. It doesn’t mean I didn’t hope for more, though. I hoped a lot, and I thought of a million other things I might be able to do to get you here. So, that could be a vague ‘yes’, depending on how you look at it. Plus, you did come.”

  “Touché.” Dominic let out a hearty laugh. “You’re as honest as she claimed you to be. You might be the only one on earth.”

  “Oh,” Jenny said, grinning. “There might be at least one more.”

  “Owen?”

  “Pssh!” Jenny laughed. “No.”

  “Interesting.” Dominic’s eyebrows rose.

  Jenny covered her mouth. “That sounded bad. He’s as honest as can be when it comes to business. But our beginning wasn’t on the most solid foundation, you could say.”

  “I’m intrigued. Tell me.” Dominic closed his laptop and pushed it aside.

  Jenny fell into the story of her and Owen’s meeting and reunion. By the time she’d finished, Dominic had laughed, gaped, smacked his head, and then congratulated her.

  “You got the man of your dreams, and you taught him never to lie. You have strong character.”

  “So does Sammie, you know.” And like that, Jenny switched topics on him.

  “She does,” Dominic said with a nod. “She is often led by her heart instead of her head. She acts rashly. But she is full of passion.”

  “You nailed her personality exactly. And you only spent a couple days with her.” Jenny fiddled with her keys, which rested on the table. “I spoke with her yesterday.”

  “How is she?” Dominic asked.

  “Good. She said she’s going to stop partying and get serious.”

  “That worries you?” Dominic asked, confused by Jenny’s demeanor.

  “It’s just that Sammie likes to have fun. She’s so full of life. At least she always has been. Yesterday, she sounded... I don’t know. She did need to get serious about some stuff, don’t get me wrong. She needed to grow up a little. But I still want her to be Sammie. Her craziness is what makes her who she is. The Sammie spark.”

  Dominic smiled wistfully. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “There it is!” Jenny slapped the table, making Dominic jump again.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The look.” Jenny sat back with a smug look on her face.

  “What are you talking about, Mrs. Kaine?”

  “Oh, don’t give me that. You do care. I’d even venture to say you love her. You don’t seem like a stupid man. But if you leave and go back to St. Lucia without contacting her, I’ll have to change my opinion of you.”

  Dominic looked at Jenny with the blankest expression he could muster. “I never said I didn’t care.”

  Her expression sobered. “I wish you’d stay longer. Please don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, but if you could use any financial assistance for your travels, please just say the word.”

  Dominic held up a hand. “Please stop. I’m not a rich man, but I handle what I have. If I couldn’t manage to be here, I would have stayed home and not accepted the invitation. I didn’t use your voucher to book the ticket, but I do appreciate the entire floor you’ve allowed me to use. It’s extreme, but rather enjoyable.”

  Jenny pressed her lips together, then took a breath. “Look, Dominic. I married Owen because of who he is at heart. And he’s actually more of a ‘simple pleasures’ kind of guy than what you’ve witnessed so far. But I wasn’t trying to offer charity, only convenience. Meeting you did something to my best friend, and if you feel anything for her, then you both deserve to see what’s meant to be.”

  “You’re a wonderful person, Jenny. Stay that way, eh? I think I’m going to go enjoy the beach today... alone. Since I’m not able to discuss the business pretense I was invited here under today, I might as well make the most of it.” He flashed her a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 27

  Sammie had never been a breakfast person before, but working for Betsy quickly converted her. After all the food was on the table, she and Betsy took a seat with their ten guests. Betsy knew all their names.

  Sammie remembered most of them, but she struggled with the ones she saw the least often. The honeymooners rarely made an appearance at the table and had signed up to have one of the housekeepers deliver them breakfast in bed. Often, they didn’t leave their room until nearly noon and stayed gone most of the day. Sammie envied them and was glad they didn’t hang around sitting on each other’s laps.

  Now there was one certain guest, Krista—Sammie would never forget her name. For the last three days, all Krista’s t-shirts had her name printed on them. Sammie wanted to ask her why, but decided she’d better not.

  Sammie’s favorite guests were Bill and Sheryl, two older people who acted like a young couple. When she overheard Bill tell Betsy he was seventy-six, Sammie had nearly gasped. Every morning after breakfast, the couple took off for a walk and held hands. They made her heart swell. And ache.

  “Betsy, this is the best French toast I’ve ever had in my life,” a guest named Scooter said.

  Sammie didn’t understand parents who gave their children names that could potentially embarrass them for the rest of their lives.

  “Thanks, Scoot. I have a secret recipe that’s been passed down in my family for a few generations now.”

/>   “I’d love to have the recipe,” Scooter’s wife, Eleanor, said.

  “Well, then, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it?” Betsy quipped, causing a round of snickering.

  “Publish it in a cookbook,” Scooter said, pushing the issue. “I’ll buy the cookbook if you do. I’m going to leave here a hundred pounds heavier from your wonderful cooking.”

  “I actually thought about doing a cookbook once,” Betsy admitted as she used her fork to cut her French toast into bite-sized pieces.

  Bill cleared his throat. “I have a friend who’s published over twenty books. He writes mysteries. I’m sure he could give you some pointers.

  Betsy chuckled. “I could put a little mystery in a cookbook, I suppose.”

  “Please just don’t call something ‘mystery meat’ after I’ve taken a bite of it,” Sammie said.

  “Is this really bacon?” Scooter held up a strip and eyed it. “Doesn’t matter.” He shoved it into his mouth. “It tastes too good for me to care.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes at her husband.

  “I was on a cruise once where a third of the ship got food poisoning,” Krista said. “People said it was due to some mystery meat on the buffet. Being a vegetarian has saved my bacon more times than I can count. Pun intended.”

  “Sammie, here, just came back from a cruise last month,” Betsy said. “I asked you all about the wedding, but how was the rest of it? Tell us about it.”

  Sammie swallowed her bite of food and took a drink of her orange juice to wash it down.

  “Well, it was eventful. Um...” She wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Should she explain that she’d spent most of the cruise wallowing in self-pity?

  “I get the feeling something big happened, other than Owen and Jenny’s wedding. Am I right?” Betsy asked.

  “Well, I did get sort of stranded in St. Lucia...” Sammie glanced at Betsy out of the corner of her eye and saw her gaping.

  “So, the ship left ya?” Sheryl asked. “That happened to us once, and we had to get to the next port to meet the ship. Such a terrible hassle.”

  “My purse and my wristband for the ship were stolen, so I had no proof of my identity. Someone boarded the ship pretending to be me and... It’s a long story. I don’t want to keep you all.”

  “How long were you stranded?” Krista asked.

  “Two days,” Sammie answered.

  Suddenly losing her appetite, she moved her food around on her plate. She hadn’t even managed a day without thinking about Dominic, but she knew the other questions were coming. What did she do? Where did she go? And she really didn’t want to entertain the guests with the story of her idiocy and heartache.

  “My guess is, Handsome Owen had the resources to get you out of a pickle, didn’t he?” Betsy said.

  Grateful for the save, Sammie smiled. “You know it. He had me helicoptered out and onto the ship.”

  “Now, that’s quite a story. It’ll entertain your future children and grandchildren.” Betsy gave her a wink as she stood. “You done, sweetheart?”

  “I am, but let me get it.” Sammie stood, hoping no one would ask any more questions about her trip.

  A short while later, the guests were either off on their own adventures or using the sitting room, which left Betsy and Sammie alone together.

  “Sammie,” Betsy said.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Sammie looked over her shoulder from the counter where she was wiping the condiment bottles down before they were put away.

  Betsy closed her eyes. “I hate being called ‘ma’am’.”

  “Sorry. I hate being called Samantha. I won’t do it again.”

  “Deal. Looky here—I know you haven’t even been here a full week yet, but I might as well ’fess up to you.”

  Sammie drew her brows together. “’Fess up?” She couldn’t imagine what confession Betsy felt like she owed her, unless it was that she’d secretly hated her before. The thought prodded Sammie’s anxiety, and she wished she could go back to not caring what anyone thought.

  “I’m a nosy old broad.”

  Sammie snorted. The response was unexpected, and it gave her some relief at the same time.

  “Truly,” Betsy continued. “I’m also very perceptive. I don’t miss much, and I haven’t lost any of my senses just because I’m old.”

  “You’re not old.”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to say. But I’m curious what happened while you were stranded.”

  Sammie was trying to think of how to explain without going into detail when Mason walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Grandma.” He stared at Sammie a few seconds too long. “Hi.”

  “You’re too young for her, kiddo.”

  “Grandma!” Mason’s face matched the color of the maraschino cherries that still sat on the counter.

  “You’d already stared long enough to embarrass yourself. Don’t blame me.”

  “I’m, uh...” Sammie pointed toward the sitting room. “Going to check the toilet paper.”

  Betsy raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Okay, darling.”

  Sammie rushed out of the kitchen, but she could hear Mason giving Betsy a hushed reprimand.

  For the rest of the day, Sammie kept herself extra busy, but when Betsy asked her to bake a cake for dessert the following evening, she froze. Surely, Betsy remembered Sammie specifically telling her that her cooking skills were subpar. If she cooked anything, it was something she could add water to and stir.

  “Would you like me to show you how?” Betsy asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  As if I could say no.

  “Great, let’s get to it.” Betsy clapped her hands once, then turned and started to pull things from the cupboards. The kitchen had been spotless, but now all kinds of things littered the counter.

  “So, here’s what you do,” Betsy said as she measured things and put them into a bowl.

  By the third ingredient, Sammie had to blink and shake her head. “Am I supposed to remember this so I can replicate it later?”

  “I was hoping you’d be able to do a little more of the cooking than I’d originally thought, actually.”

  “How much more?” Sammie asked, fearful of the answer. Betsy was acting weird, and Sammie’s anxiety was climbing.

  Betsy sighed. “Mason came to tell me that my daughter, his mom, was in an accident.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Sammie said, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Is she okay?”

  Betsy put up a hand. “She’s fine, considering it could have been much worse. I’ve already had my panic attack and gotten myself under control. She and her husband were in the car, and he got banged up pretty bad. He’ll be okay too, but he’s tall, and they were driving one of those small economy things. His leg is broken, and she has a herniated disc. I just need to go be with them for a short time.”

  “Of course!” What else could Sammie say to that? She’d only be the most selfish person on the planet if she told Betsy not to go.

  “I thought maybe I could teach you a few things and then pre-prepare some other things.”

  “Sure. When are you leaving? And where are you going?”

  “Louisiana. Tomorrow night. Clarke’s parents are there now. He’s my son-in-law.” Betsy placed a warm hand on Sammie’s forearm. “You look worried, but we’ll make the meals simple.”

  “You know what? I can handle this. But you can’t expect me to memorize recipes.” Sammie eyed the cake bowl and laughed. “You gotta write it down.”

  “Okay. Just don’t let Scooter get his paws on any of it. He thinks he’s slick, but he and his wife own a restaurant in their home town. No way is he getting my recipes.”

  Sammie laughed at the idea of Scooter slyly swiping Betsy’s recipes. She decided that come hell or high water, she could do this, and do it well.

  Baking the cake was a piece of cake. Pun intended, like Krista had said. Normally, Sammie helped clean up after dinner and then went home. But that night, she stayed until
ten p.m., even though she had to be back by five the next morning.

  She checked her phone and saw that she had text after text from Jenny asking her how she was and letting her know that she and Owen would be back in Dover sometime in the next couple of weeks.

  Sammie almost texted back and said, “Good, come early and help me.” But she didn’t want to take the easy way out. Besides, she didn’t want to change whatever plans the newlyweds had in the works or cause them guilt if coming here now wasn’t doable. She could run the B&B on her own for however long Betsy would be gone. Besides, Scooter and Eleanor were leaving in two days, and Bill and Sheryl would be gone the next evening.

  She wished it was the other way around. Scooter seemed to think he was funnier than he really was, and his wife thought he was totally charming.

  Krista had arrived a day late on Tuesday and had the place booked for two solid weeks. Snickering, Sammie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d brought fourteen shirts with her name on them.

  It seemed like Sammie had just closed her eyes when the alarm went off. Instead of going to bed immediately once she’d arrived home, she and Jenny had talked until nearly midnight and had only gotten off the phone because Molly, Jenny and Owen’s dog, had started barking in the background.

  “So, she does bark?” Sammie had asked.

  “She’s very vocal when she wants something.” Jenny giggled.

  It was a long overdue chat, but something was off. Sammie had tried to drag whatever it was out of Jenny, but nothing she’d said had worked.

  Now, she batted at her phone. She could afford to hit snooze once, but she couldn’t fall back asleep for fear of oversleeping. She dragged her feet in short zombie steps as she headed to the bathroom first. She splashed water on her face. In the mirror, her eyes looked puffy. Today, she would need a little extra help from her makeup bag.

  After she took care of concealing the area around her tired eyes, she headed to the kitchen for a caffeine jolt, thinking she should’ve done that first.

  Twenty minutes later, she headed back to Betsy’s.

  “There she is,” Betsy said when Sammie entered the kitchen. “You’re quite punctual.” She stirred some batter in a bowl and then started scooping it into muffin tins.