The Goodbye Guy (The Men of Lakeside)

by Natasha Moore

  Before she could sit down, before she could remember what he’d said, Rachel was practically tackled from behind. “I can’t believe you’re here!” Rachel immediately recognized the high-pitched voice of the other owner of The Coffee Mug.

  “Sue. Hi.” Rachel turned and self-consciously returned the hug. “The place looks great.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “No, I’m talking about the full house.” Every table was occupied and there were over half a dozen people in line to place orders. Her colorful design might have brought some people in originally, but what Lisa and Sue had built here since then had nothing to do with her.

  “Yeah, the customers keep us busy.”

  “Which is how you want it.”

  “Of course it is.” Sue waved to Beckett. “Hey, great idea to get your new place featured as part of Rachel’s show. You can’t buy publicity like that.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention The Coffee Mug,” Rachel promised, surprising herself. “I’ll arrange to film in here sometime.”

  “Seriously? That’s awesome. Thanks, Rachel. Really.”

  Lisa called out that their sandwiches were ready but Sue told them to sit, and she brought their baskets over. As she sat, her back to the wall, Rachel noticed they were drawing the attention of the other customers. A few pulled out their cell phones. No doubt more photos would show up on social media any time now. Guess she didn’t need to create any drama right now to get the news spreading.

  “Hope you don’t mind your picture all over Facebook and Instagram,” Rachel told him, nodding her head toward the upright cell phones.

  Beckett glanced around. “How do you stand it?”

  “Necessary evil. Try to keep smiling.”

  He glared as he looked around the room.

  “I can picture the captions now,” Rachel said. “Is the owner of the next Rachel Touch project unhappy before the work even begins? Are Beckett Colburn and Rachel Bradford fighting already? You might regret that growly look on your face when it shows up on everyone’s phones and they start sharing all over the world.”

  …

  Growly?

  “All right, I don’t need to hear any more.” Beckett pasted a fake smile on his face and glanced around at all the people he knew. Rachel was right. The rumor mill in Lakeside was notorious. Ginny would tell him to embrace the attention.

  Rachel lived with this kind of attention all the time. One would think she actually enjoyed it. He glanced at her bright eyes and natural smile. He couldn’t forget she worked in “reality” TV. She was a talented actress as well as a designer. Beck couldn’t imagine cameras in his face all the time, strangers thinking they were entitled to get their noses up in his business, zero privacy. Her life, her career depended on cameras and nosy people. It was the definition of hell to him.

  “Once the crew gets here cameras will be following us around all the time.” Rachel went on.

  What the…? “Is that normal? I thought they just filmed the renovation property.”

  “They film in different locations all the time. Even more so for this episode. The whole point is to build the buzz.”

  Beck felt mighty growly at the moment. Buzz. He was tired of that word already. “I thought the whole fucking point was to design my bar.”

  “Careful.” Rachel put her hand over his, and he hated the exciting thrill that traveled through his body at her touch. “Camera phones pick up audio, too.”

  He leaned close so she could hear his whisper. Was that smoky vanilla scent Rachel, or a coffee they were brewing? “I hate this already.”

  “Why do you hate cameras so much?” Her voice was low and slow, almost seductive. “Do you have something to hide?”

  He might have actually growled. “Are you looking to dig up dirt?”

  She met him halfway across the tiny table. Her lips were shiny, her lashes lush. “Would I find something buried there if I did?”

  He should have known she was in Lakeside for more than her design skills. He didn’t doubt she’d do anything she could to stir up shit for her show. “I don’t have anything more to hide than you do. Just think, if there’d been a camera in the fire station that night, whose actions would have caused the most buzz?”

  She snatched her hand back and it pissed him off that he missed her touch. “But there was no camera there that night, was there? Nothing but your lies to create plenty of buzz all over town.”

  Clear the air.

  “I’m sorry, all right? I was a kid. We were both kids. I was stupid but I was tired of you always acting like you were better than everyone else in the whole damn school.”

  “Sh,” she reminded him again. “I’m sorry, too. But it doesn’t matter how young or old someone is. When you’re laughed at, it hurts. I hit back in the only way I knew how. But I was mad at myself, too.”

  “For the things you yelled at me?”

  “At the time I was mad at myself for getting into a situation where anyone could laugh at me in the first place.”

  “Why were you there? Why did you break into the fire station to pole dance?”

  “Is that what you think? I was there on a dare.”

  “Perfect Rachel Bradford took a dare? To break the law?”

  “I didn’t break in. Lucy’s dad was a fireman. She knew where the extra key was stashed.” She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “The same place you still keep it.”

  Beck wondered how many people in Lakeside had known where that key was. “Not anymore.”

  “And what were you doing there that night? Your family didn’t own the building yet.”

  He tightened his jaw as he saw the sly gleam in her eye. What was she getting at?

  “Were you trespassing, Beckett?”

  Again? Already she was looking for more gossip? “My family kept an eye on the place. I was cleaning the showroom. Saw you tiptoeing around the building. Thought I’d see what kind of trouble you were getting into.” He cleared his throat. “Then I saw you swinging around that pole.” He lowered his voice again, the picture in his mind as clear now as it was then. “I was eighteen. I had no idea how to react.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “You could have left.”

  His voice came out on a raspy whisper, almost sounding as if he were flirting. “No way in hell.” Wouldn’t have been possible even if it had crossed his mind.

  Their eyes met, as he remembered just yesterday when she was sprawled in front of him, her hands around that pole again. Was she thinking of both nights? Did her body feel the same attraction his did?

  She huffed. “You could have kept your mouth shut.”

  He’d been a kid with poor impulse control. “And keep to myself the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me?” Yeah, if he was an upstanding guy like Davis, he probably would have kept the memory for his nighttime dreams, but once he started to tell the story, it got better and better as the words spewed out of his mouth. “I’ll apologize one more time.”

  She nodded and answered his smile with one of her own. “You’re right. We’ve spent enough time on that night. I accept your apology. Still, I hope the story doesn’t come out while we’re here.”

  He would have thought that story would go viral real fast. “Oh, come on. How’s it going to come out?”

  “Anyone taking a picture of us right now could caption it with Is Rachel still stripping for Beckett?”

  Shit. Guess that wouldn’t be the image she wanted spread to her fans. “No one else remembers it.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  Lisa appeared at the table. “Is something wrong with the food? The coffee? You guys haven’t eaten more than a bite.”

  They leaned back away from each other and their eyes met guiltily before they looked up at her. Rachel sent her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, we got to talking.”


  “Old times,” Beck added.

  “Well, get to eating,” Lisa commanded, her hands on her hips. “Doesn’t look good for business when customers leave so much food on their plates.”

  Sue shouted out from behind the counter, “Browbeating the customers isn’t good for business, either.”

  The people around them chuckled. All the phones were down and conversations hummed around them. Sue and Lisa left them alone again.

  They ate in a surprisingly companionable silence for a few moments, then Beck pushed his cup back. Might as well get this next thing over and done with. He had a bad feeling about it, but Holly wanted it with all her heart. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

  Rachel raised her brows. “Asking me out again? If you keep that up, rumors will fly that we’re dating.”

  Beck let out a bark of a laugh, even though he was hit with a split-second wish that life was simple and they could have a date like normal people. “A Colburn and a Bradford? Yeah, I can imagine the captions on those photos.”

  “Don’t worry, I have no intention of dating you.”

  “I have no intention of asking you out on a date.”

  She pushed her chair back. “Glad that’s settled. I have to work on design ideas for you tonight, remember? What could be more important than that?”

  “Holly.”

  “Okay…”

  “She’s still begging me to invite you for dinner. She’s so damn proud of her bedroom and she wants to show it off.” But that would be the total of Holly’s exposure to Rachel and her life spent in front of the camera.

  Rachel hesitantly lifted a shoulder. “I got the requisite dinner with the family out of the way last night, thank goodness, so I guess I’m free tonight. I’d love to see Holly’s room.”

  He felt more pleasure than was reasonable when she accepted. “Great. She’ll be so happy.”

  Rachel worried her lower lip between her teeth, and he couldn’t help but wonder again how she tasted. “Holly said your wife died?”

  “Crystal and I were never married, but she was Holly’s mom, yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, Beckett. Really.”

  He didn’t want to talk about Crystal, but if he didn’t offer up some information on how she died, people always asked more questions. “No one expects women to die from childbirth anymore.”

  Before Rachel could respond, two women who’d been enjoying their lunch at a nearby table hesitantly approached their table. “We love your show,” one of them said. “Could we take a selfie with you?”

  “Sure.” They crowded around her and she smiled into the cell phone. Beck hated posing for selfies, even though Holly loved them. He couldn’t imagine Rachel was enjoying it, but from the way she was laughing and talking with the women, maybe she was having a ball. Or she was a really good actress.

  “Here, let me take the picture for you,” Beck offered. It was easier. Quicker. Before he knew it, half the café came over to get a picture with Rachel.

  No way could he live like that every day, having complete strangers approach, interrupt, expect to be given everything they demanded. Those couple of weeks at the first bar he worked in had taught him that. But if Rachel could keep smiling as her lunch waited, he could take pictures to hurry things along.

  After they finally were able to finish their food, Rachel told Beckett she was going back to her room at the inn and start working on design ideas. “I should have a good start by dinnertime. I can run them by you tonight.”

  “I’ll show you my ideas, too. Pop thought I wasn’t working on the design, but I have been.” He knew what he wanted. She knew nothing about bars, designing them or running them. He had to get back in control.

  “I’d love to see them.” But by the tone of her voice, he could tell she was just humoring him. She didn’t think his ideas, for his place, would be any good.

  And if their ideas were vastly different, and she wanted to ignore all of his because she was a famous designer and he was muscle for a local junkyard, they were going to have a fight on their hands.

  Chapter Four

  Rachel was more nervous than she should have been about going to Beckett’s. They’d seemed to have arrived at some sort of truce, so that wasn’t what was causing the nerves. This might have been the first time a Bradford was invited to dinner at a Colburn’s, but that didn’t make her anxious, either. It must have been because of Holly.

  Rachel wasn’t comfortable around children. Ethan was six years younger than her, so she’d already been in school when he was born, and they had a nanny so her mother could serve on all the boards of various charities in the area. Most of Rachel’s friends were childless, or if they’d had children, they’d drifted away over the years. She’d never even babysat as a teen.

  Design work was her passion. When she wasn’t filming, she was researching trends, new fabrics, and experimenting with color combinations. Playing with different yarn shades and knit patterns was as much work-related as it was stress relief. Conversations during rare lunches with friends still revolved around work. She dated occasionally, but she wasn’t willing to split her time between men and her career. Work was her life, and she was happy that way.

  Children didn’t fit anywhere. Rachel couldn’t begin to know how to relate.

  But when Holly opened the door to the ranch-style house, her face glowed as she greeted Rachel, and she couldn’t help but return her huge smile. Maybe it would be okay.

  “I’m so glad you could come for dinner. Come in. Dad’s grabbing Mocha because he forgot to ask you if you like dogs or are allergic to dogs or if you’re scared of them maybe. My friend, Chloe, got bit by her aunt’s German Shepherd once and so she’s scared of any kind of dog, but that’s understandable, so we don’t judge. So do you?”

  Rachel blinked, struggling to follow the gush of words. “Um. Yes, I like dogs, but I’m not around them much. I’m not allergic as far as I know and thankfully, I’ve never been bitten, so I’m not afraid of friendly dogs, but I would never judge. And I would never go up to an unfamiliar dog.”

  Holly nodded. “That was Chloe’s mistake.”

  “So where’re your dad and your dog hiding?” Rachel wondered what kind of dog Beckett Colburn owned. The German Shepherd Holly mentioned came to mind. Maybe a black Lab or a Husky. Something big and strong, to go with a big, strong guy with those sexy tattoos.

  Before Holly could respond, Rachel heard sharp yipping and the scrabble of nails on hardwood. As a brown ball of fluff dashed around the sofa, Beck called out the dog’s name. He ran from the hallway as Mocha reached Rachel’s feet and the barking grew more excited. Two dark button eyes looked up at her as the dog’s whole body wriggled.

  Rachel looked up from the dog to the man. Beckett grinned. “She got away from me.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. She likes dogs.”

  Rachel couldn’t resist squatting down and reaching out her hand so the little dog could sniff her. Beckett crossed the floor and stopped in front of her.

  Rachel looked up at him. “Somehow I thought you’d have a bigger dog.”

  “Mocha fits our family perfectly.”

  Family. Beckett had his own little family. That couldn’t be a tiny shot of envy pinching her stomach.

  As Rachel glanced around the living room, she could see it was well lived-in. Nothing pretentious or exclusively for guests. The cushions of the gray sectional sofa appeared just saggy enough to show they’d been used a lot. Probably while Beckett cuddled up with his daughter to watch the wide-screen mounted on the wall.

  There were shoes kicked off in the middle of the floor and papers strewn on the coffee table. Several small colorful balls rested on the floor, obviously toys for the dog. The pictures on the walls were all family photos, most of Holly at various ages. Rachel found herself stepping up to take a closer look at a wide-eyed baby swaddled in a
lemon yellow blanket.

  “Come see my room,” Holly said, grabbing her hand. Beckett’s daughter was no longer that sweet little baby, but the excited young girl was adorable, too.

  “Hol, give her a chance to settle in.”

  “It’s okay.” When Holly took her hand, Rachel realized she was actually looking forward to seeing the room.

  Holly tugged her down the narrow hallway. Her room was the last door on the right. “Dad helped me with the hard work, but I told him what I wanted it to look like.”

  Rachel squeezed her hand. “I think that’s the hard work.” She glanced over her shoulder at Beckett, who was following them. He grinned again.

  No. No. His grin wasn’t supposed to make her feel warm inside. We’re enemies, remember?

  Holly opened her door with a flourish. “Ta da!”

  Multi-colored tulip-and-butterfly borders were stenciled along the top of the wall and at chair-rail height. The walls were painted the same lemon yellow as in the baby picture on the living room wall. A fluffy rug in the shape of a butterfly in every color of the rainbow sat in the middle of the floor.

  “I helped paint the walls,” Holly told her. “Dad did all the tulips and butterflies. All of them. There were a lot!”

  “I can tell you love yellow.”

  “It’s my favorite color.” Holly jumped up and flopped across her white four-poster bed. Were all little girls this rambunctious? Rachel didn’t remember being that way. Phoebe wouldn’t have allowed it if she was. “Grandma made the quilt for me.”

  Quilted squares of tulips and butterflies were separated by strips of yellow calico and surrounded by a border of lavender fabric. “Your grandmother does lovely work.”

  “She loves me.” Holly jumped up and whirled around, her arms stretched out. “What do you think? I never could have done it if I hadn’t seen your show. Thank you, Rachel. Thank you. Thank you. I love my room.”

  Beckett leaned over Rachel’s shoulder—how did she not know he was that close? “Yeah, thanks, Rachel.”