James

It’s past eleven o’clock at night by the time I pull into the little town of Montrose. Everything looks... unchanged. Not surprising really. Aside from tourism, there really isn’t much to be said about the place. Sandra grew up here though, which accounts for why they decided to move back. It’s not a terrible place by any means, it’s just so different from Boston where I grew up. I can’t even imagine what they do here on the weekends. Maybe that’s why they bought the B and B in the first place. The freeway exit is crowded with the usual: gas stations, fast food restaurants, everything you need to refuel and hit the road again. I stopped for a bite in Boston, at an old burger joint that Bill and I would frequent, so I’m not that hungry.

The road eventually connects to Main Street. Small wooden buildings flank the road, along with wrought iron streetlights and baskets hanging off of them. No flowers yet, but that’ll come pretty soon. Even a guy like me, who prefers things plain and simple, can appreciate the picturesque feel of this small town. All the businesses are closed, except for a rowdy pub at the very far end of Main Street. I have the top down on my Porsche now, and I can hear the resounding bass pouring out every time someone opens the door. A clump of people are gathered outside, most likely smoking cigarettes or worse.

My eye catches on a woman, all sex and curves, wearing what might as well be a towel, it was so damn short. It barely covers her ass, and it’s got an open back that shows she isn’t wearing a bra. Gorgeous, but only for a moment. But then the woman turns around and my eyebrows shoot up. Is that... Ava? No fucking way. She doesn’t dress like that, putting everything on display for the world. I must have mistaken her for one of her friends. I drive on, but then I hear a voice I would recognize anywhere.

“I said no, Ken! I’m going home.”

I flick my eyes up to the rearview. It’s definitely Ava, and there’s a big, dumb bastard who’s trying to pull her back inside. Fuck that, I think, my teeth clenching with anger. He doesn’t get to touch Ava like that, like she’s some regular broad on the street instead of the most perfect woman in the world. I react without thinking, slamming on the brakes and u-turning in the street. Good thing there isn’t anyone else on the road. I drive up to the two of them and jump out of the car.

“Hands off of her buddy!” I growl. I’ve got adrenaline pumping through me, and I’m ready to defend what’s mine.

The two of them look over at me, the asshole with anger, Ava with surprise.

“James?” she says, as if she can’t believe I’m standing in front of her.

“Who the fuck is James?” The idiot asks. He still hasn’t taken his hand off of her, so I help him along, pushing him back a few paces. Getting into a fight my first night in town would be pretty stupid, but I’m not thinking with my brain anymore.

“That’s me. And I think you’ve outstayed your welcome. You heard what Ava said.”

The guy narrows his eyes. He’s built like a bull, with no neck and heavy brow ridges. A nose has been broken in two places. A real, dumb fuck. I curl my hands into fists, ready to back up my words, but the guy must have seen how serious I was, because he shakes himself off.

“Whatever. I don’t need a bitch like you,” he says.

I step forward, ready to show him what happens when he disrespects Ava, but she puts a hand on me.

“James, what are you doing here?” she asks in that sweet voice of hers.

My eyes are on this Ken guy until he shoves his way back into the pub, then I turn to Ava.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I say. “Come on, I’m taking you back home.”

I head back to my car, and Ava follows, tottering on sky high heels. Another thing that’s new. The Ava I love isn’t flashy and provocative. That’s the thing I love about her. She’s like a secret present only someone who’s willing to take the time and effort gets rewarded for.

Once we’re back on the road to the B and B, I start to relax. I like this, Ava by my side, the road stretched out in front of us. The painful feeling in my chest subsides, and I relax my grip on the steering wheel. It’s a pretty, winding road along the beach, and the sea is shimmering in the moonlight. I’m paying more attention to what’s inside the car than out though. Ava’s wearing the scent she’s always worn, something flowery and feminine, and her dress, or let’s face it, shirt, is riding up high on her creamy thigh. How easy would it be to take my hand off the gear stick and move it a few inches to the right?

“James,” Ava says softly, breaking into my thoughts. “Are you, are you mad at me?”

“Not mad, just surprised,” I say. I furrow my brows again. “Do your parents know you’re out this late?”

“I’m not a kid anymore you know,” she protests. “I can do whatever I want.”

She’s right, but that doesn’t pacify the roiling anger I still have in my gut. Seeing another man’s hands on Ava, touching what should be mine, all of it just pissed me off. But I really have no one else to be angry at than myself, which only makes me angrier.

We crest a hill, and the B and B is spread out below us. The lazy gravel driveway, the high tower and fancy stonework, all of it suggesting a stately elegance lay within. At least Bill and Sandra has that going for them. People expect a bit of history, a bit of old charm when they visit a bed and breakfast, and Selkirk House has it in spades. As we drive up though, I start to see signs of wear. Paint is peeling in places, and the grounds need tending too. As in flipping houses, outside appearances matter. They set the stage for what’s inside.

“Thanks for getting me home,” Ava says from the passenger seat.

She’s grown up so much since the last time I saw her. She had just turned eighteen, and had grown up suddenly into a woman. Seeing her made my cock strain against my jeans, and I’d cut my visit short for fear her father would catch on. That was when I made the decision to leave. My feelings were twisted, not right, and I couldn’t trust myself not to act on it. And now, another two years later, and she’d become even more perfect. I’m reminded again why leaving had been the best idea I had.

I turn off the car and face her. The moon is bright, and her eyes shine like emeralds. Her curls, playing in the breeze, frame her gorgeous face. I want to kiss those perfect lips, touch every inch of that soft skin, but I don’t. I can’t do that to her father. What I have for her is wrong, and I know it, even if I feel that way still deep down.

“Ava, you need to be careful. I know those types of men. They’re bad news,” I say instead. “Those idiots don’t deserve you.”

And you do? I question myself. Like hell you do.

“Ken was just drunk.”

“My point exactly. That’s when those bastards are the most dangerous.” I lean in, trying to get her to understand.

Her eyes drop down.

“I should probably get dressed,” she says. She pulls out a pair of leggings from her purse. “Mom’s going to have a heart attack if she sees what I’m wearing.”

My eyes drop down to her breasts, two perfect handfuls barely covered by the scrap of fabric draped over them. She’s not wearing a bra. Damnit. Here I am warning her, when I’m the biggest bastard of them all. I need to put space between us, before I really fucking regret it. My eyes return to her face, and she’s blushing. It takes a titanic force of will to break the connection with her gaze.

“I’m going inside.”

I get out of the car, slamming down on the door harder than I should in my haste. The ornate front doors of the B and B are still unlocked. The inside is as grand as the outside promises, with a gorgeous wooden curved staircase onto the second floor dominating the foyer. The check-in desk sits on the right hand side, and on the left are two French doors leading into a parlor. Bill comes through the door, around the desk and opens his arms.

“James, you made it,” he says. I give the guy a hug. Even though I don’t deserve it, he’s a brother to me. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“You needed me,” I say with a shrug. “I didn’t want to waste any time.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here. Where are your bags?” he says.

“I’ll grab them in a bit. Why don’t you show me around your place? I’ve seen pictures, but this is my first visit I think. Where’s Sandra at?”

“She’s in bed already,” Bill says. He pauses. “I haven’t told her why you’re coming. We’ve talked a little bit about finances and what we’re going to do once the resort gets built, but I didn’t want to worry her too much about it until I get your opinion.”

“Sure thing,” I reply.

“Why don’t we do a quick tour? So you can get an idea of how things stand.”

Bill leads the way into an elegant sitting room across the check-in desk. Sandra had done a good job. Furniture, which look like period pieces, is arranged around the room to provide a cozy spot for guests to retreat to in bad weather. Light floral wallpaper gave the room a bright, airy feel, even with all the wood trim and paneling. We head into the next room. A long table with a coffee dispenser sat against one wall, while smaller tables were arranged around the room. A gorgeous chandelier, possibly new, makes the light dance around the room. The large windows and French doors face out onto the ocean. This must be the dining area. It too was recently wallpapered, and the hardwood floors look like they had been refinished.

“Everything looks good,” I say. “Are you sure you need me?”

“It’s not these rooms that need updating,” he says. “It’s the bedrooms. And the amenities. It would be nice if we could somehow get air conditioning running to the bedrooms, and steady heating too. It always craps out on us at some point during the winter. No clue why. And Sandra has been wanting a new kitchen.”

“I’ll have to go into the basement and see tomorrow,” I say.

Bill continues the tour.

“Here’s the family quarters,” he says, pushing through a heavy wooden door.

There is a definite change between the hotel side and the private side of the B and B. For one thing, the furniture is more modern, and well used. The space is smaller too, and the wallpaper in this area has faded. Bill and Sandra obviously put most of their money into the business. No wonder Bill is worried. Even if the B and B is doing well now, a new resort could cut into that business. It’s important to try and retain as many of their customers as possible while generating new leads.

The kitchen in question that he wanted remodeled is definitely small, made smaller by the dinner table shoved into it. A big industrial fridge dominated one corner. This must be where they cooked meals for the guests, in addition to themselves. Whoever turned Selkirk House from private residence to hotel did so as cheaply as possible by keeping to the existing blueprint. There was no dining area, and no real living room either.

“Think you can work magic in this space?” Bill asks.

“There isn’t a lot of square footage, is there? Beyond that wall, is it all just bedrooms?”

“Yes, that’s right. But as you can see here,” and he opens up one of the doors, “there’s this long narrow room. I think they used to put food for storage or whatever. It’s not insulated at all, nor finished. If we could take down the wall...” he looks hopefully at me. “It would mean everything to Sandra.”

“Then I’ll look into it,” I say to my friend.

“Excellent. Hey I bet you’re pretty tired. Let’s go find you a room. I’d let you stay here, but there’s no room. Unless you want to sleep on the pull out.”

“I’ll take the room Bill. It’ll be good to see what I’m dealing with too.”

We head back through the heavy doors and out to my car. Ava is gone already, though I have no idea where. Maybe through a back door? I take my suitcase while Bill grabs my duffel and together we head back inside. He grabs a key off the hook and heads toward the carved wooden stairs.

“No elevator?” I ask.

“That’s another thing I was hoping you could do for us.”

“Those are tricky and expensive.”

“And Sandra’s back is hurting from having to help all the old people with their luggage. Not to mention that in this day and age, most people can’t climb stairs all that easily.”

We make it up the winding staircase. It wasn’t too difficult for me, but I can see why it would be difficult for a family who had babies and kids, or older folks. We take the left hallway and Bill opens room 208 for me. There’s a heavy armoire in the room, and a grand king size bed. A thick rug was spread out in front of a fireplace, and there was even a small sitting area with an overstuffed chair. This room must have been a library or study at one point, because built in bookshelves lined one wall. The upholstery was done in light blue colors, mimicking the ocean outside, but overall the feel was one of cozy comfort. It was what I would expect out of a B and B. The draftiness however, left something to be desired.

“You can feel it too huh?” Bill says. “We have the heat going, but for some reason, the rooms that face the ocean are always much colder than the rest of the house. I try not to put guests in them. It’s fine right now, but during the busier times of the year... we do get complaints. It would be great if we could have thermostats so everyone can adjust the temperatures to what they need in the rooms.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

“Don’t worry,” he says, lifting up a key. “The room I picked for you is on the other side of the hallway. I just wanted you to see what we needed to do. Maybe get some ideas going in that head of yours for tomorrow when we talk to Sandra.”

Room 207 is definitely warmer, by several degrees. It didn’t have such a great view though. I can see why this is a problem. What’s the point of advertising a seaside B and B if the guests won’t be able to see the sea from their rooms? The view can help increase profits, but not if the guests are freezing to death. Already I’m starting to calculate what we’d need to do, how we could do it so that Bill and Sandra could keep the place open, and whether we’d be able to fit it all in their budget. I’ve never met a client who underestimated how much their budget can cover.

“Thanks for coming,” Bill says to me as he drops down my duffel. “You’re the only one I can trust to help us.”

“That’s what friends are for,” I reply, feeling a rush of guilt again for why I really came. I look away from Bill, pretending to take in the room. I would have visited my friend earlier than this, but it’s far easier to resist temptation when I don’t have it walking around in front of me. Not to mention a lot less painful. “I’ll see you in the morning.”