All of You, Always

by Lindsay Harrel

  “Are you sure?” Her eyes traveled to their joined hands, which zinged with warmth.

  As if just noticing he’d touched her, Ben pulled away his hand, gathered the empty mugs, and headed toward the sink. “We both need to eat, and I don’t have much around here.” His eyes stayed focused on the water that sprayed from the faucet into the mugs as he scrubbed them hard with a sponge.

  “OK.”

  He fumbled one of the mugs, the ceramic pinging against the side of the sink. His eyes popped up. “Yeah?”

  “Sure.” Why not? She could gather more intel to feed Mom.

  But when he tipped a smile in her direction, her breath caught in her throat, and Bella couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a fatal error in judgment.

  What had he been thinking, inviting Bella out for dinner?

  The second they’d walked into the Walker Beach Bar & Grill, everyone’s necks had turned their way—an amazing feat because the huge televisions on the walls blaring the latest sports commentary should have drowned out their entrance.

  But Walker Beach residents had a way of sniffing out juicy gossip, and Ben had no doubt that what looked like him being on a date was the juiciest scrap of steak these people would get on a Tuesday night.

  Not that it was a date. Nope. They were just two people helping each other out who needed to eat at the same time.

  And now that dinner was over, Ben should steer himself back home. Alone. Might be kind of hard to avoid her, though, considering he lived in the same place where Bella was staying, in the room just underneath hers.

  Of course, no matter what he should do, one fact remained—for the first time since Elena had left him at the altar, he’d spent time with a woman he wasn’t related to and hadn’t hated it.

  “You may need to roll me out of here.” Bella patted her stomach and made a face as they swept through the restaurant’s front door and into the warm breeze of the summer evening.

  The sun was just setting behind the restaurant, which—like most of the restaurants along Main Street—backed up to the boardwalk along Baker Beach.

  “You’re not the one who downed a double cheeseburger, fries, a Coke, and a slice of cake.”

  Her choice of a six-ounce filet with a side of asparagus and a glass of Malbec had showcased the glaring differences between them—Bella a refined managerial executive from the city, him an uneducated blue-collar worker from Nowhere, USA. Yet still, somehow, they’d found things to chat about over dinner.

  The lights along the boardwalk popped on as the sun disappeared. Bella shook her head. “I was sorely tempted to steal a bite of that cake, believe me.”

  “Why didn’t you?” They started down the boardwalk, walking north toward the inn. “You’ve been pushy before.”

  “I have not!”

  “What do you call trapping me into playing Yahtzee with you last week?” He slipped a smile onto his face and his hands into his pockets.

  “Trapping? I merely suggested we play. You stayed of your own free will.” Bella’s responding grin radiated more light than the street lamps above them.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And though I’ll admit I may be pushy about some things, isn’t it a crime to steal a man’s food before the third date?” Her eyes widened. “Not that this was a date. I know we were just . . . eating.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right.”

  They were close to the upper edge of town now, with Baker Community Park just beyond. In a hundred feet or so the beach would end, evidenced by the craggy rocks jutting against the ocean and forming the southernmost boundary of the park. The sand here was mostly deserted, though a bonfire glowed down the beach back the way they came. Even the boardwalk wasn’t overly crowded, but then again, he’d noticed a lot fewer tourists in town than was usual for this time of year.

  Bella nodded toward the beach. “Want to sit for a bit?”

  He froze. Yes. No.

  “Unless you think I’m being pushy by asking.” She nudged him with her elbow. “In that case, I definitely don’t want to sit on the beach.”

  He wasn’t eager to get back to his spreadsheets, and it was too late to do any repair work on the inn. Ah, what could it hurt? He might as well enjoy the beauty of this summer evening. “If you insist.”

  “But I don’t. That’s the point.”

  “Ha ha.”

  Smiling, Bella peeled the sandals off her small feet and wove the straps between her fingers, letting the shoes dangle. She stepped onto the sand, and Ben caught up to her but not before her spicy perfume wafted back on the breeze. All night he’d been trying to pinpoint what it smelled like—some sort of cinnamon, he’d decided—because that had been better than focusing on how it was driving him just a little bit crazy.

  Bella stopped several feet back from the wet sand and plunked down. Ben joined her, realizing too late how close he’d sat. Even though their shoulders and legs didn’t quite touch, the phantom caress of her skin settled over him.

  She didn’t seem to notice. In fact, Bella was the picture of relaxation, leaning back on her arms, stretching out her feet, and burying her toes in the sand so they just barely peeked through. The full moon above provided enough light for him to glimpse the grains of sand dotting her tan skin.

  The ground boomed underneath them, an aftershock that passed quickly.

  He pulled his knees into his chest and yanked his eyes toward the undulating waves of the ocean. “You’ve been here almost a week now. What do you think of Walker Beach so far?”

  She took a moment to answer. “It’s different from the city, obviously. At first I thought I’d hate the slower pace. It’s not in my nature to slow down.”

  “Kind of guessed that one.”

  Her laughter added to the cadence of the sea and traveled down his bones. “But there’s something really charming about it. I’ve already met quite a few members of the town.”

  “And know their life stories, no doubt.” Ben rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I could really do without that part of living here.”

  “I can see how it would be annoying in some respects, but I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know my neighbors back home.”

  He sensed sadness in her tone. “Really?”

  “I recognize them, and we say hello as we pass in the hallway, but I don’t know their names or anything about them.” She sat up straighter. “There’s something nice about being anonymous, sure. But sometimes I ache to be known.” Her right hand traced a circle in the sand.

  “Maybe your neighbors don’t know you, but surely you have friends. And a mom.”

  “My mom and I aren’t close.” Her hand stilled for a moment then restarted its comforting, hypnotic pattern. “She is many things but maternal isn’t one of them. Not anymore.”

  “She was once?”

  Bella nodded. “A long time ago. I think the combination of night school and working as a maid and waitress when I was in grade school beat it out of her. She became so focused on achieving it all, becoming the CEO of a company, that now she doesn’t have time to know who I am.”

  “That’s rough.” His arm itched to slip around her shoulders, give her a squeeze. He batted away the impulse. “But believe me, just because everyone in town knows you doesn’t mean they know you. They only think they do.”

  “I guess you’re right.” She eyed him. “But when things go bad, at least you have family to rally around you.”

  There was something knowing in her gaze. Almost as if . . .

  He groaned inwardly. Of course. “Since you’ve been here longer than a day, I assume you know all about me and my”—he made finger quotes—“tragic and very public heartbreak.”

  “I may have heard something.”

  “Probably a whole novel, especially if you’ve run into Carlotta Jenkins.” The forty-something-year-old owner of the self-named clothing boutique had a knack for sniffing out the smallest bit of gossip.

  “It was your sister, actually.”

&nbs
p; “You met Ashley?”

  “And your cousin Shannon.” Bella brushed bits of sand from her fingertips. “They were sweet—and informative.” She shot him a minxy grin.

  “I should have known.” His chest loosened, and he laughed. “It’s too bad you don’t have siblings. They make life interesting, that’s for sure.”

  “I wish I did. Maybe . . . maybe I do.”

  Oh. Right. “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you know for sure?” He was only asking because he needed to know anyway. To hold up his end of the bargain.

  It had nothing to do with how easy she was to talk to. Nope.

  “It’s not just that I don’t know if I have any family.” She bit her lip. “It’s also that I don’t know who my dad was.”

  Yikes. “Your mom doesn’t know?”

  “Oh, she does. She just won’t tell me anything. Well, not much.” Shaking her head, Bella sighed and looked out toward the ocean. “One time I overheard her say his first name was Daniel. But no last name and when I asked about it, she said I needed to leave well-enough alone.”

  “I notice you use past tense when you talk about him.”

  “Of the few things she’s told me, one is that he died when she was pregnant with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” He tried to infuse enthusiasm into his voice. “But at least you have a starting place. You know he was from here, right?”

  “What?” Her head whipped around to look at him.

  “I just assumed . . . because you said you were here to find his family.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I know or don’t know.” Clouds obscured the moon, creating shadows all around them. “I’m here to figure it all out.”

  Was she purposefully being vague? No. He was probably reading too much into it. He’d learned to do that after Elena’s betrayal. But Bella—there was something different about her. He could feel it. He hadn’t known her a week, yet they’d already had a deeper discussion than he remembered having with Elena.

  Maybe that had been the problem. One of many, apparently. The other being that Elena had only dated him—the blue-collar handyman—to make her upper-crust parents angry.

  “Well, join the club. I’m still figuring out what my life is supposed to look like. The inn, the way I relate to women . . .” He cleared his throat.

  A stuttered laugh flew from Bella’s lips. “I’m guessing you do just fine with women.”

  “Being betrayed and lied to by someone who claims to love you tends to do something to a man.”

  Bella turned her eyes on him again, blinking. She shivered as the wind tousled her hair. “It’s getting cold. Guess we should head back.”

  Yeah. They really should. Because what had possessed him to be so personal with this woman?

  What was she doing to him?

  She stood and, after a moment, so did he. Without a word, they started toward the boardwalk, the moon peeking through the clouds, watching them as they walked in silence.

  Chapter 5

  All this time and Bella didn’t know if she was any closer to achieving her goal.

  Didn’t really know if she wanted to be, either.

  Taking another sip of her coffee, Bella stared out the floor-to-ceiling back window of the Frosted Cake, which granted her a view of the boardwalk, the beach, and the sparkling water of the Pacific. She’d staked out this corner table early this morning to read Ben’s financials in depth once again before their meeting, trying to decide what to do with the information now that she had it.

  It wasn’t just Ben’s hammer pounding and wood planing that had driven her here from the solitude of her room. After their kind-of-not-really date two days ago, her brain—and heart—had been on overload, and she’d needed space to think. Between the high ceilings, circular wooden tables, and eclectic beach-themed decor, the restaurant provided the perfect solution.

  Though neither place could drown out her unproductive thoughts about a handsome man on a beach who’d shown her a piece of his heart—probably without meaning to.

  “Being betrayed and lied to by someone who claims to love you tends to do something to a man.”

  Bella squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing them like a thousand particles of dust had gotten stuck inside. Ben’s words still haunted her. But not just the words themselves. It was the way he’d spoken them, as if prying open a clam to expose a pearl inside. He’d trusted her enough to tell her what he had.

  The problem was that she wasn’t worthy of that trust. Which bothered her. A lot.

  But still, she had a job to do, a father to find. That was more important than anything else. At least, she’d thought so. So why this tugging inside, this desire to forget what she’d promised her mom so she could deliver what she’d promised Ben?

  In looking at his report, it hadn’t taken her long to come up with a list of basic things he could change to improve his business practices—raising his prices, for one, and doing some online marketing, for another.

  But to share or not to share? That was the question.

  Groaning, Bella downed the rest of her coffee and stood to grab some more from the drink station sidebar. In the mornings the Frosted Cake allowed free seating and functioned more like an order-at-the-counter bakery and coffee shop but moved to more traditional restaurant seating and service for lunch and dinner.

  As she reached the sidebar, Bella waited behind a woman with poofed-up red hair and long red nails. She poured fresh-squeezed orange juice from a pitcher then turned, looking Bella up and down. Her nose curved at a sharp angle.

  “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet.” She extended her free hand. “Carlotta Jenkins.”

  Bella accepted Carlotta’s handshake. The woman squeezed harder than necessary. Forcing a smile, Bella squeezed back. “Bella Miranda. I’m a guest at—”

  “The Iridescent Inn. I know.” A smirk brought out tiny wrinkles around the woman’s eyes and lips. “I make it my business to know things about anyone who stays any significant amount of time in my town.”

  “That sounds exhausting.” Finally, someone Bella knew how to handle, unlike everyone else she’d met in Walker Beach. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about you.”

  Carlotta’s smirk wavered before she recovered in a quick moment. A high-pitched jerking laugh tumbled from her mouth. “I own the clothing boutique in the North Village.”

  The clothing boutique, as if it were the only one. Although, who knew? Maybe it was. Bella shrugged, finally allowing her hand to fall. “I haven’t been inside yet.” As she poured herself some coffee, the warmth of the liquid seeped through the paper cup into her fingertips.

  “Too busy dating our local innkeeper, mmm?” Carlotta’s eyes remained hawklike on Bella as she sipped her juice.

  Oh, how she longed to take down this woman a notch. Not like she’d be here much longer. She’d either convince Ben to sell or she wouldn’t. Regardless of the outcome, Bella wouldn’t be sticking around here for the long-term.

  But something stayed her tongue. She didn’t want to make trouble for Ben—not any more trouble, anyway.

  Bella stirred some cream into her coffee with a tiny plastic straw. “Too busy with a lot of things. Excuse me, please.” She headed back to her table.

  No more distractions. Ben would be here soon. She needed to decide what to do. The papers rustled as she picked them up and studied the numbers, but the figures blurred together.

  “Thought you could use this.”

  Looking up, she found Josephine Radcliffe, the restaurant’s owner, holding a plated chocolate long john. “Oh n—”

  “On the house.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t need the calories.”

  “My dear, please consider who you are talking to.” The woman slid a hand up and down her rather voluminous waistline, which Bella hadn’t noticed before. If she’d been asked to describe Josephine, she’d have focused on the proprietor’s ready smile. “Now, take my offering before I get offe
nded.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Josephine set the plate on Bella’s table and tapped the side of her own nose. “And don’t you let the likes of Carlotta Jenkins get to you. I make it a rule never to talk ill about anyone, but if I were to break my rule, she’d probably be the reason.”

  With a wink, the older woman turned and headed back toward the front counter, which was visible from both sides of the restaurant.

  Before Bella could force herself to say no to the chocolate donut, Ben walked into the restaurant accompanied by a balding gentleman whose tan, leathery cheeks spoke of a lifetime spent in the sun. When they reached her, Ben pulled out a chair for the other man across the table from Bella and sat between them.

  “Bella Miranda, meet Bud Travis. He and his wife own Walker Beach Bar & Grill.”

  Where she and Ben had eaten on Tuesday night.

  They hadn’t mentioned their time together since it had happened—unsurprising because she’d spent yesterday confined to her room while catching up on email. Mom had someone covering her workload, but Bella hated the idea of someone else picking up her slack, even if she were here in Walker Beach for the good of the company.

  Bella had only known to meet Ben this morning because he’d slipped a note under her door sometime before seven o’clock. She’d assumed they’d be the only two at the meeting and that he was growing impatient to hear about her thoughts on his financials. Thus, the papers spread in front of her.

  What was he up to?

  She extended her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Travis.”

  The man took her hand, a cheery grin breaking through his bushy white beard and mustache. “Bud, please. And the pleasure is all mine.” Just like with Josephine, peace radiated off this man, a sense of belonging that seemed ingrained in him. He knew his place in the world, and Bella couldn’t help wishing for the same confidence. Maybe it would come once she knew her full history.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Bud has lived here since he was a boy—”

  “And I’m old, if you couldn’t tell, so that’s a long time.”