by Quinn Ward
“I wanted to apologize for last night and see if you’d like to talk over breakfast.”
I rolled onto my stomach, pulling the quilt over my head. If I pretended the world didn’t exist, it’d go away, right? Sadly, I’d learned long ago that wasn’t the way the world worked. I’d tried that the night Dad was arrested, and everything seemed bleaker when I finally rejoined the world.
“It’s going to be a while before I’m ready,” I told James, swinging my feet to the floor. A cool breeze carried the sounds of morning through the window I’d left open last night. I stumbled to the coffee maker, cursing that the supplies hadn’t been refreshed. Oh yeah, I was staying in a hotel that wasn’t open yet, which likely meant no one was cleaning and restocking the rooms.
“Actually, I’m sitting on the back patio, and I brought coffee and pastries.” Life. Saver. I took back all the shitty things I’d thought about James and hurried to yank on a T-shirt. He’d have to deal with my thin cotton lounge pants, because I needed coffee more than I needed to look presentable. And I wanted answers. James currently held everything I wanted most in life in his possession.
“I’ll be down as soon as I can.” I raced through my morning ablutions, grabbed my room key, and practically jogged through the hall. There was no sign of Brook, but it was probably his day off. No reason to work on a Sunday if there weren’t any guests and the renovation crews had the day off.
I studied James as I crossed the patio. There were hints of my father’s features in his face, but if I’d walked past him on the street, I wouldn’t have assumed the two men were related. I wished I knew which of them took after which of their parents, just as I often wondered where my own features came from. I’d assumed my egg donor, but looking at James, it was obvious I carried some of the Montgomery genetics.
“Sleep well?” James asked as he handed me a disposable cup of coffee. I typically drank it light and sweet, but I was sleep-deprived enough I didn’t mind drinking it black. When a person traveled as much as I did, spent as much time in generic conference rooms, they got used to taking whatever they were offered.
“Not really,” I admitted. Deep lines formed across James’s forehead and at the corners of his mouth, so I quickly added, “Believe me, that’s not a slight to the accommodations at all. The room’s amazing. It’s the curse of trying to sleep anywhere other than home. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it always takes me a few days to get used to a new bed. And by that point, it’s almost time to head to the next city.”
“That must get old after a while.”
I shrugged, because yeah, it totally did, but the job paid well and the benefits were out of this world. Hell, soon they’d force me to take a few months off, with pay, because they said sabbaticals helped with employee satisfaction and retention.
“Have you ever considered a career change? Possibly something that would give you home time and allow you to settle down somewhere?”
“Just how much have you and Dad been writing back and forth?” Talking to James felt eerily similar to those days I visited the prison.
“We’ve been in touch for close to a year now.” James cleared his throat a few times and stared out at the ocean. I couldn’t blame him; it was a spectacular view. But something in his short, jerky movements as he reached for a donut hinted that this conversation wasn’t going to be comfortable for either of us. “I contacted him after our father, your grandfather, passed away. One of my dad’s greatest regrets in life was allowing your grandmother to dictate what all of us did. I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t a great woman.”
Seems like the men in the Montgomery family have a history of picking all the wrong women. Good thing that’s one bullet I’ll manage to dodge. Luckily I was awake enough to avoid saying that out loud.
“Before we go any further, I feel I owe you a bit of an explanation.”
I waved him off. As curious as I was about my family and how he’d suddenly reappeared after an entire lifetime, I didn’t want him lancing old wounds for my sake.
“No, you deserve to understand a bit about the Montgomery family,” he insisted, sipping at his coffee, picking at his pastry. “Or perhaps it’s more fair to say the Leeds family. You see, your grandmother came from old money. Her family still owns a plantation in South Carolina, and everything they do is for appearances. When she fell in love with your grandfather, they made their distaste known, but she was a rebellious debutante set to carve her own way in the world.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I argued. If she’d faced that type of reaction when she met my grandfather, why in the world would they have shunned my dad for falling in love with my egg donor? Granted, they might have had legitimate concerns given how that particular story ended, but it didn’t compute in my brain.
“Anyway, she was always the one in control in our family. She was a spiteful woman, and I think she grew to regret the choices she’d made to prove a point to her family,” he continued. “Looking back, I’m not sure my parents ever truly loved one another, but even suggesting divorce was forbidden as far as she was concerned. It was much better, in her view, to be miserable and drag everyone down with her. Eventually I think it was the poison inside of her that did her in.”
“When did she die?” I was clueless but wanted to know that my grandfather hadn’t been miserable until his last day too. I hoped he had a bit of freedom at the end.
“She fell ill about six years ago, passed away shortly after,” he told me, with all the emotion of someone reading out of a textbook. “That was when the inn started to thrive. She’d never wanted Dad to buy the place, but it was his dream. He loved people. Loved families—functional families. He’d spend every waking hour in the sitting room or back here on the patio, watching children play.
“My father never forgave his wife for telling Max to leave. Blamed her for the fact he never knew you. Cried at night when the news came out about your dad.”
“Then why didn’t he reach out before it was too late?” I slammed my fist down on the table. None of this made sense. He could have fixed the problem. I could have known him rather than having to listen to James tell me what he was like.
“Phillip Montgomery was a proud man.” James’s voice softened. His shoulders slumped forward, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad died with many regrets, but none was greater than not knowing you. By the time my mother died, he felt it was too late. Figured Max wouldn’t forgive him. Assumed your mind would have been filled with how evil we were. In short, I believe he was scared. I don’t doubt that a bit because I know how hard it was for me to write that first letter to your father, how ill with nerves I felt yesterday on the drive to pick you up.”
“And yet, you found a way to get past all of that,” I pointed out. I knew enough about the past for now. I wanted to know about the present and what gave him the courage to find us.
“I had to,” he admitted. “You see, when your grandfather died, he was very specific as to his wishes. This inn was his pride and joy. His legacy, as it were. It was the one thing in the world that he felt was his, and he insisted it stay in the Montgomery family.”
James slid a manila folder across the table. I flipped open the cover and closed it just as quickly. That was my name on the front page of what looked like a legal document. Not my father’s, mine.
“I don’t understand.”
“After the conviction, your grandfather knew he couldn’t leave anything to Max. Any assets of your father’s could be taken by the families of those he supposedly stole from.”
James earned bonus points with me because he didn’t automatically assume Dad was guilty. “So he left this place to me?”
“Half of it,” James corrected. “The other half will be mine once the trust clears.”
“What happens if I don’t want it?” I asked, because this wasn’t anywhere in my life’s goals. Sure, I’d briefly considered what a life in Sunset Beach could possibly look like for me
, but it hadn’t been more than a fleeting thought fueled by hormones. I’d quickly squashed those thoughts; I didn’t need to uproot my entire life just because I’d come closer to getting my dick sucked than I had in months.
“No one’s saying you have to be part of the daily operations,” he told me. “If you’re not interested, you can be a silent partner. Or we could discuss our options for selling. I have no doubt we could turn a hefty profit if we sold.”
James’s eyes lit up as if that was the option he’d prefer. But he’d just said his father didn’t want our family to lose the inn, and I respected the wishes of a man I’d never met a hell of a lot more than I longed for more money to collect interest because I didn’t feel as though I had the right to spend it.
“Don’t feel you need to make any decisions today, just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will,” I promised him. Thinking about it was probably the only thing I’d do for the foreseeable future. I’d come to North Carolina, determined to check the place out for my dad in hopes it’d be a good place for him once he got out. Before I’d even boarded my plane, I’d been counting down the days until I got back to civilization, hoping to hit a few clubs and maybe get laid before my next assignment for work. Now, I freaking owned part of an oceanside inn, had an uncle who wasn’t quite as much of an asshat as I’d originally expected, and I’d met a guy I wanted to get to know more than just carnally. I barely even recognized myself.
And speak of the devil, Brook hobbled through the french doors just as I opened my mouth to tell James I didn’t think selling would be necessary. James grimaced, staring pointedly at Brook’s wrapped ankle.
“It’s just a sprain. Don’t worry. I’ll still manage to get everything done before the grand opening.”
I expected James to tell him to take it easy, that the inn would run without him.
He dropped a few rungs on the coolness ladder in my mind when he scowled. “I hope so. We’re running out of time, and everything needs to be perfect.”
Before Brook could respond, because I wasn’t sure there was a suitable response to James’s quick-change personality, I chimed in. “Brook, tell me what you need done. It’s not like I have anything better going on right now.”
“You don’t have to help me. I’ll be fine,” he responded through gritted teeth. I needed to get him alone and figure out what in the hell I’d done to offend him last night.
“Really, I don’t mind.” After all, it seemed I had a vested interest in the success of the inn. I wondered if he knew why James had summoned me down here. And why was James so terse with him right after I’d convinced myself he was a decent guy? Brook hadn’t hurt himself on purpose; James should be convincing him to rest so his foot had time to heal before there was a building full of guests to take care of. I might not know much about running a place like this, but I knew full well how crazy it would be once the rooms were filled.
I excused myself and joined him near the door. James didn’t need to overhear this part of the conversation. While I wasn’t sure how I’d upset Brook, I was damned sure going to make it right. After all, he was a large part of the appeal of helping run the Bird Island Inn.
As tempting as it was to reach out for him, I kept my hands to myself. “I know you’re going to keep insisting you don’t need any help, but I’m not offering for you. I want to help you out. I’ve never been one to just sit around doing nothing, and I’d love to learn more about the inn.”
“In that case, finish up your breakfast and meet me inside. There’s plenty of work to be done.” The dramatic turn of heel didn’t have quite the same impact as he limped through the lobby, but he was still completely adorable. And I was utterly screwed.
6
Brook
Have you ever had a night so perfect you were sure you were dreaming? I feel like Baby in that old movie, falling in love on summer vacation. We started packing the car so we can go home tomorrow, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here forever. I can’t believe he told me he loves me! -W
“Okay, so here’s a question for you….” Dane handed me a bottle of water. It was a gorgeous night, the last we’d have before the grand opening. I’d suggested we head into town for the night, but Dane insisted I take it easy.
I’d gotten so used to working no matter how I felt that it was hard for me to sit back and watch him do the heavy lifting. Okay, so not as hard as it would have been if he hadn’t been so damn sexy and sweet, but still, I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to earn a paycheck. But Dane insisted, so I listened.
“What’s that?” I asked when he didn’t finish his thought. That happened frequently; he’d start to say something, and then the thought would fly out of his head, off to find its friends. Yet another trait that would be annoying if it was anyone other than Dane. Right now, he was sitting across the table from me with his feet propped on the same chair as the ankle I was icing. Every once in a while, our feet would touch, and I swore a zing of electricity shot through me. Which was stupid. It was incidental contact, nothing more. And I wouldn’t dare tell him how it made me feel because I still hadn’t figured out a way to apologize for my behavior almost a week earlier.
“So, it’s called Bird Island. Where in the hell are the birds?” He swept his hands through the air as evidence of the lack of a flock worthy of naming an entire island after the birds. “And furthermore, why in the hell is this place called the Bird Island Inn if it’s not on Bird Island?”
“That’s an easy one,” I told him, leaning forward to prop my chin on my hands. While I wouldn’t explain that I knew the answer because I’d heard his grandparents bickering about the ridiculous name of the place, his grandfather’s logic was sound. “When your grandfather bought this place, he wanted a name that would be recognizable. By that point, the Kindred Spirits Mailbox was common knowledge, and everyone knew it was on Bird Island. Since this is the closest commercial property to the island, he decided to use the name.”
Dane sat back in his chair, watching me drink my water. It was a little creepy, but I got the sense he was in one of his thinking moods. He’d done that a lot this week, along with asking questions. It had broken my heart when he shared a little bit of what he and James had talked about over breakfast. I tried to imagine life without my grandpa in it and couldn’t. He’d always been my stability, much as Dane’s dad seemed to be to him.
“What was he like?” Dane finally asked, his voice soft and vulnerable. I thought for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell him, honored that I had this information to share with him.
“Your grandpa was really cool,” I told him. He scoffed and I shook my head. “No, seriously. Don’t take this personally, but I always wondered why he was with your grandma. She was stuffy and stuck-up. She hated it when he’d walk the beach in the mornings, barefoot with this ratty, floppy hat protecting his bald head. There’s a jar of shells in the sitting room that was his personal collection. Every day, he’d add a new one. From time to time, we’d have to get a bigger container.
“And he was a hard worker. I was surprised he hired me, because I’d been in here at least a dozen times asking for work.”
“Why not just go someplace else?” he asked. It was a logical question without a good answer. He’d think I was nuts if I told him I’d been drawn to this building even before his family bought the place. Back then it sat empty and I used to sneak in through a boarded-up window. It was quiet, which home never was for me.
There was something special about this building, the island, everything. It’d be foolish to say, but part of me felt like I’d been led here by some greater power in the universe. It tethered me here, even when I got restless and said I wanted to leave someday.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he said, breaking my train of thought.
My cheeks flushed as I realized I was the one with the wandering mind now.
“Did you like working for them?”
Another tricky question. “Him,
yes,” I responded. “Your grandmother, not so much. Nothing was ever good enough for her. She wanted to attract high-end clientele if she was going to be stuck here, but every time he suggested they invest in renovations, she shot him down. And she didn’t care who was around to hear it. Sometimes I wondered if she got off on the power trip, proving to anyone in earshot that she held the ultimate control.”
“Is that why James has put all this work into the place over the winter?” Damn. Why couldn’t we get back to a lighter topic? Every question Dane asked had a complex answer.
“I definitely think that’s part of it.”
“But?”
I shook my head, not wanting to share my suspicions. James had been acting strange for a while now, and I didn’t think it was just because Phillip passed away. Last fall, I noticed a dark SUV in the parking lot a few times, and every time they drove away, James walked back inside in a foul mood. Something was going on there.
“Never mind.”
Dane leaned forward and took my hand. Realizing what he’d done, he started to pull away, so I gripped his fingers tighter. I liked the way I felt when he touched me. Loved the way he looked at me. Wished like hell there wasn’t a countdown timer ticking away until he left, because Dane was a good man.
“If there’s something I need to know about James, tell me,” he pleaded. “My dad’s supposed to be coming down here next month, and if James is mixed up in something illegal, I’ll have Dad move in with me instead.”
“I don’t think it’s anything like drugs if that’s what you’re hinting at,” I told him, refusing to go any further. Grandpa always scolded my mom and her friends for gossiping, even once they were grown, and I went out of my way to avoid it.
Our conversation faded, and we sat watching the tide creep up the beach with every set of waves. The sound of a girl shrieking in the distance followed by rich laughter made me smile. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, wishing I felt up to a walk across the island tonight because the weather was perfect for it.
