10.

 

Two days later, and my new life has begun as the official proprietor of Rose Cottage Bed & Breakfast. “You’ve got everything you need?” I check with my first guests. “There’s a paperback library in the lounge and beach towels in the hall closet, along with some picnic chairs.”

“We’re all set,” Mrs. Peterson reassures me. “We’ve done this so many years, we’ve got our routine down cold. Isn’t that right, Harold?”

Her husband chuckles. “Ten summers now. Don’t you worry about us.”

“Well, take some brownies for the beach.” I thrust a tupperware container at them, still anxious. “And just let me know if you want anything baked special for breakfast.”

Mrs. Peterson laughs. “You’re going to spoil us, I can tell.”

She takes the brownies and tucks them in her beach bag, then waves as they set off, ambling towards the beach. A friendly couple in their seventies, the Petersons have been dream guests so far: content to sit on their sun porch, drink tea, and take the occasional trip to the beach or town. The other guests have been just as easy to manage: the Keller family arrived complete with two rambunctious seven year-olds, and barely take the time to grab a plate of muffins from the breakfast table before striking out for the day, their minivan loaded with beach toys and sporting goods. They return every night, the kids traipsing sand through the front door as they yawn and head for bed.

I don’t want to jinx it so soon, but everything seems to be going to plan. The only problem is my appointment book is still half-empty. Carina promised to reach out to her PR contacts, but besides sending the website link to every travel blog I can think of, I’m not sure what to do to bring in more people. With my parents in full force to bring me back to New York, I need the B&B to be a success more than ever, if for no other reason than to prove them wrong.

I’m invested now. I want so badly for this to work, to do Nana proud.

The main line in the office rings, so I hurry through and pick up the phone. “Rose Cottage Bed and Breakfast, Noelle speaking,” I say brightly.

“Wow, you sound so official!” Lexi’s voice comes.

“Hey!” I exclaim happily. “How are you?”

“Waiting for you to return my calls,” she complains. “I’ve left you like, five messages.”

“I’m sorry! I’m avoiding everything from a New York number right now,” I admit. I take a seat at the desk, swiveling on the old chair. “My parents are on a major mission to tell me I’m screwing up my entire life.”

“Yeah, about that…” Lexi sounds guilty. “They called me, wanting to recruit me.”

“Recruit you? For what?”

“I think they’re planning an intervention.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding me!”

“Nope. They called some of the other associates, too. And I think they’re trying to fly your sister and her family back over? Don’t say you heard it from me,” she adds quickly. “I mean, I think what you’re doing is crazy, but not like an actual mental break.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Better than fine. You should come down for a visit,” I suggest, “stay the weekend, see the town. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so relaxing and fun. You’ll see, I’m doing the right thing.”

“How about next year?” Lexi sighs. “I’d love to, babe, but Harper is still busting my balls. There’s no way I can get away from work.”

“See, this is why I left! Do you know what I did on the weekend?” I ask her. “I spent the morning baking, then went to the beach, and read a book out on the back porch while the sun set.”

Lexi groans enviously. “But aren’t you getting bored out of your mind?” she asks. “No adrenaline, no challenge?”

“There’s challenge enough for me here,” I reassure her. “Besides, you know I never loved that lifestyle. You thrive off stress, but it always just made me break out in hives.”

“Well… You don’t sound like you’re having a breakdown,” she admits. “But if a strange man tries to bundle you in the back of a van, it’s your parents hiring some guy to de-program you.”

I laugh, just as the other line lights up, flashing red on the switchboard. “There’s another call, I need to take it. But you really should come visit,” I add. “You need a break.”

“I need a promotion,” Lexi corrects me, laughing. “But you take care, OK?”

“Talk soon,” I promise, before hanging up and switching to the other line. “Hello?” I ask, forgetting my official “phone answering” script.

There’s a pause. “Is this Rose Cottage?” a female voice asks, clipped and disapproving.

“Yes, the bed and breakfast,” I hurriedly explain. “Noelle speaking, how may I help you?”

“This is Bunny Vanderberg.” She announces it, like I’m supposed to know what that means.

There’s a long pause.

“Are you booked as a guest with us?” I ask, frantically flipping pages in the appointment book. I’m sure I would have remembered a name like that.

“No. I’m with Classic Southern Travel,” she sounds even more miffed. “We have a last-minute opening in our next small-town issue, and I saw your press release. You are open, and available to guests, are you not?”

“Yes, of course.” My mind races. Classic Southern Travel is a major magazine with the older, luxury travel set. My mom has a subscription, and loves poring over all the classic Antebellum hotels they feature—if she ever got a day off. “We’d love to be featured. That would be amazing!”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she sniffs. “Of course, I’ll need to tour the property, and make sure it lives up to our high standards.”

“Of course,” I echo, eager. “When would you like to come? I can make room for you whenever suits.”

“I’ll be in the area tomorrow,” she says.

I pause. “So soon?”

“Will that be a problem?” she demands. “Your release said you had just reopened. ‘The perfect small town experience,’” she quotes.

“No problem!” I yelp. “We’re ready for you. I’ll prepare our best room. You won’t regret it,” I promise.

“Hmmm. We’ll see about that.”

She hangs up without another word, leaving my head spinning. A reviewer from a major magazine, arriving tomorrow? Suddenly, all the jobs I thought could wait come rushing back to haunt me. The broken roof tiles, the overgrown yard… Other guests might be happy with some fresh-baked goods, but Bunny Vanderberg sounds like she demands nothing but the best.

What am I going to do?

I quickly dial the number Juliet gave me for her contractor brother-in-law, Ryland, and explain my situation. “Sure, I’ll be right over,” he says. “I’ve got some time today.”

“Thank you!” I cry, relieved. “Whatever you can do will be a huge help.”

 

Twenty minutes later, a tall, dark-haired man shows up on my doorstep with a toolbox—and some familiar faces in tow. “Juliet, Emerson!” I greet them, surprised. “And…” I stop. It’s the petite girl from the diner that day.

Ash’s sister.

“Tegan,” she reminds me, with a pixieish grin. “Ryland’s my better half, so when I heard you needed some help…”

“Wow, thanks. You’re all being so nice and helpful, I can’t believe it.” I blink. “When I locked my keys in my apartment in New York, all my neighbors ignored me sitting in the hallway for hours.”

“Well, we’re family here.” Juliet smiles. “Literally!”

“So where do you want me?” Ryland asks. I show them the crumbling portion of the roof, and where I didn’t risk climbing to paint the trim. Soon, he and Emerson are up a ladder, hammering and painting, and all sorts besides.

Ryland strips off his shirt and mops his brow.

“Not bad, huh?” Tegan says, catching me looking. I blush. Between him and Emerson, there’s no shortage of muscles and dark-eyed charm.

“Do you guys have something in the water here?” I ask, half-joking.

She and Juliet laugh. “We don’t complain. Anyway, what can we do to help?” Juliet turns to look at the house.

“You don’t have to do that,” I protest.

“We want to,” Tegan insists. “You need everything to be perfect for this Buffy woman.”

“Bunny,” I correct her. “And if you really mean it…”

We leave the men to their sweaty labor and head back inside. Juliet offers to go over the books for me, so I show her to the office files, then get to work with Tegan cleaning out the best room in the house. Nana and Kayla left everything spotless, but I don’t want to take any chances, so I strip the bed again and remake it with crisp new sheets, while Tegan polishes every surface in the room until it’s gleaming.

“Ash never told me how you guys met,” Tegan says, pausing to push her choppy bangs back from her face.

“It was a party, in New York,” I say vaguely. Just thinking about Ash makes me flush again: remembering my drunken paint-splattered proposition, and how he couldn’t run away fast enough.

“My brother, at a party? That doesn’t sound like him.” Tegan giggles.

“It was a charity fundraiser thing.” I pause, picturing him in that highway bandit mask, his dark eyes glittering under the city lights. “A masquerade.”

“Fun!” Tegan squirts Windex at the mirror. “He’s so mysterious all the time, I don’t know anything about his life. I never meet any of his friends. Or girlfriends.”

She shoots me a sideways look. I focus on making perfect hospital corners.

“What about you?” Tegan tries a different track. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” I reply, casual. “I never had the time.”

“But you do now,” Tegan presses, still watching me. “That’s why you moved here, right? So you could relax, smell the roses, enjoy the life out of the rat race…”

“How do you know all that?” I ask, surprised.

She grins. “I’m very intuitive. And I got Juliet to spill,” she adds.

I relax. “It’s true. Although I didn’t figure on Bunny Vanderberg showing up to cast judgment on the place quite so soon.” I stand back and study the room: perfect. “Should we do the other rooms, too?” I ask, worried. “She might go snooping around.”

“Someone with a name like Bunny is definitely going to go snooping,” Tegan agrees. “Let’s play it safe.”

We move on to the rest of the guest suites. Luckily, the Petersons and Kellers are all out for the day, so they’re not around for our whirlwind cleaning mission. I scrub the already-clean bathroom floors until they’re shining, and Tegan sets fresh-cut flowers in every room.

We take a break, gulping icy lemonade in the kitchen. Tegan gets a text alert on her phone and checks it. Her face lights up. “Dex’s new single is in the Top Ten!”

“Dex?”

“Brother number two, you met him the other day.” Tegan explains, quickly tapping out a text. “Tall, dark, tattoos. He’s in The Reckless.”

“I’ve heard of them!” I exclaim. Even in my work-obsessed bubble, I know that they’re a pretty major rock band. “That’s amazing.”

“He pretends to be so over it,” Tegan smirks, “but I know he’s just itching to get that number one spot again.”

“So it’s just the three of you?” I ask, curious to learn more about Ash’s past.

“Four. The other one, Blake, is out in LA,” she explains. “But you’ve probably seen him glowering at you on a billboard somewhere. ‘Judgement Day is coming,’” she says dramatically. It takes me a moment to recognize the slogan from a big movie that’s just come out. There was a billboard right opposite my office, I would see him every day going into work.

“Wow, your parents must be insufferable,” I laugh, “bragging to all their friends about their famous kids.”

Tegan’s smile slips. “Actually, they passed away, about ten years ago,” she says quietly.

My stomach drops. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” I start to apologize, but she shakes her head.

“It’s fine, really. You weren’t to know.”

“Still, I feel terrible. I can’t believe Ash didn’t tell me.”

Tegan gives me a curious look. “When would he have done that?”

She doesn’t know about our night together, so I quickly cover. “Oh, I’m sure we were talking about our family sometime, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Tegan shrugs. “It was hardest on him, I think. He had to take care of us all, keep a roof over our heads. Not exactly the ideal plan when you’re just out of school.” She gives me a reluctant smile, then checks her phone again. “I’m just going to call my friend Zoey. I’ll be right back!”

She heads out to the yard, but I stay a moment, leaning against the kitchen counter, deep in thought. I can’t believe I didn’t know that about Ash, but somehow, it makes sense to me: the way he acts so serious, as if the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders.

Because for the longest time, it was.

What did he go through? I wonder, trying to imagine. But I can’t, I’ve always had my parents there; always known there was a safety net if I ever fell. Sure, they bring their own burden of expectation, but I never once doubted somebody would be there to help me out when things got rough. But for Ash, there had been no net, just three younger siblings, all depending on him. Is this what pushed him to be so successful, gave him that ambitious drive?

There’s so much more than I realized, lurking beneath his polished surface. He likes to act like he has it all together, the world running in perfect control. His family is grown now, and thriving, but still, Ash seems wound tight enough to break.

Except for that night in the city, when he was totally fun-loving and relaxed.

I sigh. It’s still all way too confusing. I don’t think I’m any closer to figuring him out. And he’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me to try.

The doorbell rings. “Just a minute,” I call, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans and going to open the door.

I stop dead. Ash is standing on the doorstep. “Someone called about a wrench?” he says, holding up the tool.

My mind goes blank. He’s dressed casually for a change: a plain black T-shirt and dark wash jeans that hug him just right. He’s even got some stubble on that strong jaw of his, and he looks sexy as hell. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that drunken night, and I wonder if he can tell we’ve just been talking about him.

Don’t be ridiculous. Say something!

“I didn’t think I’d throw such a wrench in the works,” he adds, with a teasing smile.

I blink. Relaxed, wise-cracking Ash was definitely not what I was expecting.

“Wow, that fell flat,” Ash says wryly. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

“No, it was.” I recover the power of speech and smile. “Maybe don’t quit for that stand-up career anytime soon.”

“Damn, I was all set to take this show on the road.” Ash looks around. “I hear you’ve got a guest of honor coming.”

I nod. “Classic Southern Travel.”

He whistles. “That’s a big deal.”

“Tell me about it!” My voice must reveal my panic, because he flashes me a reassuring grin.

“Don’t worry, they love this kind of quaint folksy place. You’ll do great.”

“Umm, thanks.” I pause, confused. This guy changes moods so quickly I could get whiplash. One minute he’s joking with me, the next, he can’t get away fast enough.

As if remembering our last encounter, Ash’s smile turns awkward. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other day. I know I left in a hurry, I just didn’t think… Well, I didn’t want you doing anything you’d regret. What with the beer, and the head injury… I know you weren’t thinking straight.”

Thought didn’t really come into it – try pure lust. I feel a flush just at the memory of how I threw myself at him.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I reply breezily, trying to cover my embarrassment. “It happens all the time. Once I got a concussion, and nearly signed up for pole dancing classes.”

“Really?” he quirks an eyebrow at me.

“What do you think?” I shoot back.

He laughs. “I don’t know. You’re pretty unpredictable.”

Our eyes lock, and for a split-second, I feel the heat surge between us. Then Ryland rounds the corner, hoisting a bucket of something. “You brought it?” he asks, seeing Ash.

“Right here.” Ash holds up the wrench.

“Great, we’re just up on the roof.”

Ash gives me a quick smile. “Duty calls.”

I pull myself together. “Thanks for coming,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

“It's the neighborly thing to do,” he quips, then heads around back – giving me a front-row seat of just how well his jeans fit.

Suddenly, the day has gotten a whole lot more complicated.

 

Even with Ash proving a constant distraction, I manage to keep it together for the rest of the day. The guys finish the roof work, and then we all pitch in doing a lightning-fast revamp of the sprawling, overgrown yard: mowing the lawn, cleaning up the patio furniture, and tidying the borders. Even the Petersons help out when they get back from their afternoon walk: Harold turns out to have an eye for wildflowers, while Pamela insists on helping me weed the flower beds.

“But you’re guests,” I protest. “You should be enjoying yourselves!”

“We are,” she chuckles, tugging on a pair of gardening gloves. “Besides, you don’t know the difference between an azalea and an aspidistra.”

I pause weeding, glancing over to where Ash is revving up an ancient mower I found in the old shed. He works with crisp, precise movements; his body taut and capable. All afternoon, I’ve been painfully aware of his presence: chatting with the other guys, or teasing his little sister. He’s seemed relaxed, and perfectly at ease, but he still looks away fast whenever our eyes meet.

“Quite the view,” Mrs. Peterson remarks.

“Hmm?” I pretend I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about, and turn back to work. By the end of the day, I’ve never been so tired—or felt so grateful and blessed. “You guys…” I say, looking around at the spotless, lush yard. The house looks like something straight from a magazine, especially in the hazy rose light of dusk. “I can’t believe everyone helped out like this! I really don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll buy the first round at Jimmy’s.” Juliet hugs me with a grin.

“Done! Meet you there?” I ask. “I need to jump in the shower.”

And have a moment to collect myself.

The others head out, so I quickly clean up and pull on a pretty summer dress. I even pull back my hair and add a touch of lipgloss. Not because I want Ash to notice, I tell myself. But because it’s summer. And I’m feeling good, and…

Liar.

I pop my head into the lounge to check on the Petersons, reading happily in front of the fireplace with their tea. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“We’re all set,” Harold beams. “These scones are just perfection.”

“Don’t you look nice,” Pam adds. “Hot date?”

I blush. “Just a casual drink with everyone.” I quickly head out before they can quiz me anymore, but by the time I reach the bar, I’m surprised to find there are butterflies in my stomach.

Ash says he doesn’t want anything to happen, but still, I can’t get him out of my mind.

The chemistry between us was real. Is real. So why is he fighting this so hard?

The bar is still empty when I arrive, and a clutter of friendly laughter and conversation greets me from the back alcove, where Ryland and Juliet are facing off in a pool game while the others watch.

I pause a moment, happy. I’ve been in Beachwood Bay only a few days, but already it feels like I’m one of the gang. They’ve all been so welcoming, I can’t get over it.

Tegan sees me, and waves me over. “What have I missed?” I ask, joining them.

“Just a whole lot of trash-talk.” She grins. “Juliet is kicking his ass.”

“Never underestimate a woman,” Juliet crows, lining up a shot and sinking it perfectly.

“Maybe I’m letting you win,” Ryland retorts with an easy smile.

“Sure, let me win that ten bucks, if it makes you feel better.” Juliet sashays to make her next shot.

“Beer?” A voice at my elbow makes me jump. It’s Ash, standing way too close, offering me a cold drink.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s safe?” I answer, my heart beating faster.

He smiles, and I swear I could forget my own name. “Just as long as you don’t go climbing any tall ladders.”

I take the bottle, and gulp a long, cold sip. I need to cool down, and fast.

“Thanks again for helping out,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I really appreciate it.”

“Sure, it’s no problem.” Ash takes a sip of his own beer and leans against the wall beside me, watching the game. “You know, I’m surprised there aren’t more hotels or motels in town. It’s a great family destination.”

“Nana always said it was the best-kept secret on the coast.” I smile. “She spent most of her life here. Dad was always trying to get her to move to the city, but she wouldn’t think of it.”

“I guess there’s something about this town.” Ash looks around. “My family seem to have adopted it as their second home. First Dex, then Tegan…”

“Just wait, you’ll be next,” I grin.

He chuckles. “I don’t know about that. My offices would probably fall into anarchy if I left them to their own devices.”

“I can just imagine them now,” I tease him. “Taking lunch breaks away from their desks. Leaving the office at 6:00 p.m. Not working Sundays.”

“Madness,” he agrees, his eyes flashing with mirth.

Our eyes lock, and those butterflies return; a swooping beat of anticipation. That delicious connection, heat and bright glitter in my veins.

“Look at you two, getting friendly.” Tegan appears beside us, looking pleased. “I figured you’d hit it off. Ash, you know Noelle is a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, I knew that.” Ash looks at her indulgently.

“Was, really,” I correct them. “I’m only licensed in the state of New York, so I guess all my skills are useless here.”

“Still, you must be really smart to get through law school,” Tegan continues. She’s got a determined glint in her eye. “And ambitious too.”

“Um, sure.” I’m not sure where she’s going with this.

Tegan looks back and forth between us, smiling. “I told you about that cute Italian place we found down the coast, right, Ash? You should take Noelle, you guys would have fun.”

“Tegan—” Ash tries to interrupt her, but Tegan talks over him.

“And don’t give me that bullshit about being too busy with work, because you’re on vacation here. And so is she, kind of. It’s perfect!”

She looks at us expectantly, and I can’t help it: I feel my hopes rise too. Sure, a set-up is cheesy, but if it gets Ash to relax around me a little, I’ll take it.

But he clearly doesn’t see it that way. “Drop it, Tegan.” He says, warning her.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, look at her.” Tegan displays her hands like a TV model showing off the big prize. “She’s awesome, you’re not too bad yourself. What’s the big deal with just—”

“I said drop it!” Ash’s voice echoes; everyone turns to watch, but Ash doesn’t notice.

“I’m not interested in taking her to dinner, or a movie, or any other place, OK?” Ash tells his sister sharply. “So in the future, just keep your ideas about my personal life to yourself!”

Tegan gapes, shocked. There’s silence as his words sink in.

Rejection slices deep through my chest.

“I should go,” I say quietly. Ash turns. His eyes widen, like he’s realizing for the first time that I’m standing there. I heard everything.

“Noelle—“ he starts, looking guilty.

“I have a big day tomorrow.” I cut him off, forcing a bright smile. “I need to finish up at the house. Thanks again for your help, everyone!”

The group looks awkward as hell, and I don’t blame them after Ash’s outburst. Quickly, I grab my purse and hurry out of the bar, before anyone can say another word.

I feel so humiliated. Our night together in New York was the best night of my life. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before, and I thought there was a possibility it could happen here too—the way he looks at me, the moments he actually lets his guard down and relaxes.

But Ash couldn’t be clearer, he doesn’t want anything more to do with me, not romantically at least. And I’ve been too blind to take a hint.

Not anymore.