Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Sorry,” I offered gruffly, not wanting her to feel awkward or embarrassed. “That’s not why I came… I didn’t mean…” I held back a curse at my lack of restraint.

  “Don’t.” We both flinched at the harshness of her tone. Her flushed face turned even redder as a tiny hand came up to press on her lips. “It’s fine. You should probably go.”

  Dread was like an ice-cold bucket of water over my head.

  This wasn’t what I wanted.

  I wanted her to feel safe and instead, I was driving her farther away.

  “Laurel…”

  “It’s been a long day. And then the fire… I just—” She broke off with a sigh. “I should go to bed before I do any more damage.”

  I listened to her reason, but the only thing I saw was the damage I’d done. Somehow.

  Maybe she needed a night—a night to realize that sleeping with me would’ve only made this more complicated for her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, nodding to the smoke-stained fireplace. “I’ll clean everything up and make a note not to use the fireplace anymore.”

  My body tensed, revolting against her quick recovery—like she had too much practice dealing with disappointment. I hated that masking hurt had become a habit for her.

  And I hated that I was the reason for that hurt.

  Especially when I’d only been trying to do the right thing.

  She turned and I had no choice but to follow her to the door.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said with a small voice, folding her arms across her chest.

  It was a clear ‘goodbye.’

  Shit.

  I didn’t want to leave her right now—right when she looked like she was so tempted to fall apart. But I’d already pushed too much.

  And it was becoming pretty fucking clear I’d pushed too far.

  Grabbing my keys from the counter, I paused in front of her, ignoring the pull that felt stronger than gravity to kiss the sorrow from her face.

  “I’ll see you at Roasters, then?”

  She opened the door, the rush of cool air making her shiver as she murmured, “Goodnight, Eli.”

  I took another long look at her and made a short, simple promise to her and to Larry.

  I would do whatever it took to make her whole again… even if that meant letting her walk away.

  Walk away from Roasters.

  Walk away from Carmel Cove.

  Walk away from me.

  “Goodnight,” I rasped.

  I stepped out into the night and, when the door closed behind me, I made a promise to myself that yes, I’d let her walk away… but not before I did ever goddamn thing in my power to keep her here. Where she belonged.

  With me.

  Laurel

  You’re a strong bean.

  My hand flinched on the doorknob to Roasters as the words stretched the stitches which held my heart in one piece.

  Dust crunched under my heels as I stepped inside and sucked in a breath.

  I was on my way to meet with Mr. Ross and finalize the details of my grandfather’s will, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming here first.

  Two days since I’d been inside and the damage hit me all over again, only now, it wasn’t just the torn down plaster, but the pipes that ran like rusty veins through the walls were pulled out in pieces.

  Roasters was on the operating table and needed a heart transplant.

  Too bad there wasn’t much left of my stitched-together organ to offer… especially after Friday night.

  This was what happened when you held grief inside. It ate away at everything behind the scenes, slowly damaging the structure and integrity behind the façade. The only way to fix it was to take down the walls, rip out what could end up destroying you, and hope to survive with what was left.

  There wasn’t much left, but I was determined to walk away a survivor. A strong bean.

  Now more than ever.

  Especially when those forty-eight hours dragged into an eternity since I’d last seen Eli, his six-foot, soot-covered muscles strung up on lust, and turmoil raging in his eyes.

  And since I’d watched him walk away.

  My lungs constricted, the pain of him pulling back just as sharp and unexpected as it had been that night. There were sparks and heat and smoke—and that was all before I almost burned the house down.

  I wanted him. I’d wanted him to stay. For me.

  But that moment when I’d come so close to actually losing the house, that moment when he was standing in front of me, the only thing I knew was that if I didn’t kiss him then, I’d lose that, too.

  He wasn’t mine. In fact, I hardly knew him. But I didn’t want to lose him.

  Through ember-infected air, I’d stared up at the man who was always there. In my thoughts. In my dreams. In front of me. And I wanted him no matter what happened. No matter what it could cost me. I wanted him.

  And the threat of losing one more thing drove me to embrace that. It drove me to feel… to want… to give into something that couldn’t be lost or water-damaged or stolen or burned. It drove me to sink into the warmth rising in my chest. A feeling that couldn’t be ignored like the tide that had finally reached the shore.

  It drove me to him.

  So, I latched on and took whatever he was willing to give, clinging to him like a buoy in a storm. It felt so good to not hold back, to not crush down and box up my emotions before they got the best of me.

  What I didn’t realize was how much it would hurt to watch him walk away from them. From me.

  I didn’t realize it would hurt like a loss.

  Of course, he couldn’t want me. I was Larry’s granddaughter and the one ruining the legacy of this town. I didn’t blame him for his reasons. I couldn’t. I knew he retreated out of respect because that’s who he was: the man who took care of things and never took anything for himself. Still, that small reticence flipped my switch from on to off.

  Closed off, to be exact.

  So, he’d left with his chivalrous shield intact and I recognized the familiar, lesson-learned gash in my chest. There was nothing for me here in Carmel Cove.

  “Mornin’, Little Laurel,” Mick greeted me with a half-grin, jarring me from my thoughts.

  The man’s warmth and kindness were just as imposing as his stature; I would miss him.

  My stunted smile relaxed seeing he was the only one here at the moment. “Morning, Mick.” I stepped toward him. “I just thought I’d stop in… see how everything was going… how was your weekend?”

  His head half-cocked to the side, assessing but not interrogating me. “Pretty good. I had to finish up a few woodworking projects,” he offered, running over one of the studs inside the exposed wall, before adding at my intrigued expression, “I do custom wood pieces on the side. Mostly decorative stuff, but I enjoy it.”

  He followed the line of the beam up to the ceiling. “Made one for here. Not sure where it got off to in all the commotion though.” He paused. “Keep meanin’ to ask Eli.”

  I flinched. The man with all the answers.

  Except when it came to me.

  He left me dangling like a question mark. At the end of sorrow. At the end of memories. At the end of desire. “Where… is everyone?”

  He eyed me knowingly and my spine straightened. “Miles is taking care of another job and Eli is on his way. Ash needed his help real quick over at the restaurant; he’s opening this coming weekend.” He paused and knocked on one of the pipes. “And then, George should be here today to get all this back together.”

  “It can be fixed?” I turned to him.

  He couldn’t hide his surprise, wondering how Eli hadn’t told me. Between the marinara, the fire, and the earth-shattering orgasm that had led to a soul-crushing separation, I’d forgotten to ask about the plumber’s assessment.

  Mick nodded. “It’s goin’ to take a bit, but he says he can get everything back in shape,” he informed me. “And if George says he can do it, he can do it.�
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  Relief washed over me.

  “Good.” I gave him a faulty smile.

  “You okay?” He looked at me with concern.

  “Yeah,” I assured him with a nod. “I have to get going though. I have a meeting with the lawyer.”

  “Oh.” He looked to the door. “You don’t want to wait for Eli?”

  “No.” The word was too quick to be anything but questionable.

  “Alright,” he drawled. “Will we see you later?”

  I began to move to the door, turning over my shoulder as I answered, “Probably not. Once I have everything signed, I need to start getting in touch with real estate agents and get that process started.”

  I winced, hating to see how my words appeared to so easily wound a man who looked unwoundable.

  “Hey, Laurel…”

  I paused, looking back to my Friendly Giant.

  “We’re all family here,” he said unexpectedly, emotion overwhelming his form. “We’re all heartbroken. We’re all grievin’. But when you go through somethin’ like this, the best thing… hell, the only thing you can do is lean on your family. So, if there’s anythin’ we can do—”

  “Thank you.” With a shaking hand, I reached for the doorknob, a single tear landing on the old brass.

  “I’ll let Eli know you stopped by.”

  My steps hesitated as I opened the door. “You don’t have to, Mick. I’m fine.”

  I regretted the words as soon as I said them. They were a lie and Eli would know it.

  He knew the ‘right’ thing had been a mistake the moment he apologized.

  I turned and began to walk toward the end of the block. Mr. Ross’ office was just across the street. I crossed my arms, protecting myself from the multitude of warm, caring smiles that greeted me during the short walk.

  This meeting felt like the beginning of the end. The moment I would set in motion the severance from my past.

  But instead of striding confidently through the entrance, I hesitated.

  Pausing to look over Ocean Avenue to the coffee shop nestled across the way. I had to admit I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he’d said Roasters was too far gone and the building couldn’t be saved.

  Maybe if it wasn’t too far gone, neither was I.

  My tether to this place was fragile and thready. A weak pulse that could be obliterated by the slightest pressure.

  But it was still alive. Beating. Strengthening. Fighting with every breath.

  My skin prickled with sudden warmth and I caught the burning gaze and wind-whipped hair of the man in the eye of my hurricane of heartache. I shivered.

  I was convinced I wanted to give this place up.

  But it didn’t want to give up on me.

  And from Eli’s expression, neither did he.

  “That’s it?”

  I jumped as Aunt Jackie’s shrill question cut through whatever else Mr. Ross was about to say. He’d just finished elaborating all the details of my grandfather’s last will which, as I already knew, bequeathed to me the coffee shop and the house, while leaving my aunt with some of his stocks and bonds, and more investment-oriented possessions.

  Something I expected her to be pleased with, though she appeared anything but.

  Narrow eyes glittered with iridescent irritation as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, making sure to flatten the wrinkles on her designer skirt. The break in her composure didn’t fit with her porcelain put-together persona.

  “Were you expecting something different?” Mr. Ross drawled with an unabashed elevated eyebrow at why one of the richest women in the greater San Francisco area was complaining because she’d received more money instead of a rundown coffee shop and a house of similar constitution.

  Two structures she’d never had any interest in until this very moment.

  “No,” she said crisply, folding her hands in her lap and shooting him a tight smile from lips that looked to have been enhanced since I last saw her two weeks ago. “It’s just that Laurel doesn’t live here, and she doesn’t really want the coffee shop, do you, dear?”

  She assumed my confirmation and continued, “If she did, she wouldn’t have moved away. You don’t want this place, isn’t that right, Laurel?”

  My tongue felt like it was digging through sand trying to answer her.

  She was right. Wasn’t she?

  But the way she said it… the way she asked… the property was probably worth millions, and she probably wanted to cash in, I surmised. Or maybe she thought they could sell it to some big coffee chain.

  Both careless possibilities triggered a defensiveness… a possessiveness… inside me that had been dormant until this moment, and now, all I instinctively wanted was to deny it. I wanted to hold on to everything and never let go if letting it go meant letting it go to her.

  “See, Mr. Ross,” she said with a voice too saccharine to be anything but cancerous. “I was just hoping to take one thing off my niece’s plate during this difficult time.”

  Aunt Jackie had never been the emotional or full of feeling type of person, and both Mr. Ross and I knew it. In fact, I was sure the Range Rover she’d parked outside had more concern for the environment than she did for others.

  Gavin’s mouth thinned. “Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do. This is what Mr. Ocean decided and put in his will; it’s up to Laurel if she wants to sell everything or not.”

  I winced. In my defense, he’d revealed my intention to sell.

  But it was my intention, so how could I be mad?

  Jackie’s eyes perked up and her attention snapped to me. “I knew this would be too difficult for you, dear.” She patted my hand like she could beat my resignation in deeper. “So, you’re going to sell them then?”

  “I was… I was planning on selling them, yes,” I admitted with much less resolve than I expected of myself.

  “Of course, if it’s too much right now, you could always hold off on selling for a little while,” Mr. Ross interjected, partially because he didn’t want my aunt to get what she wanted, and because he was still a part of this community—a community that wanted Roasters to remain in my care.

  “It’s not,” I insisted firmly, my back straightening against the worn wood back of the chair as they pulled me in opposite directions. “But thank you both for your concern.”

  My aunt tensed briefly beside me before her lips turned up with a smile more acidic than accepting. Mr. Ross nodded and laid a few sheets of paper in front of each of us, topping them with a pen, and indicating where we needed to sign.

  The next minute or so passed in awkward silence as what was left to my pap’s name was divided between us. My aunt’s assessing stare crawled over my skin as Mr. Ross handed me a manila envelope with the deeds to both buildings inside… like I now had something that belonged to her.

  When I rose, her arm linked through mine like a snake coiling around me, claiming my immediate attention.

  “Laurel, dear, we should talk,” she murmured, barely glaring at the lawyer before angling and ushering me through the door into the hall.

  “Aunt Jackie—”

  “Please, let me speak.” It wasn’t a request as she continued, “I know you don’t want this, Laurel. You left it once before and it was selfish of my father to dump it back on you now.”

  I tensed.

  “I will be more than happy to buy the coffee shop—even the house from you for a generous price.” She patted my arm as though she were doing me the greatest of favors. “How does that sound?”

  Like the very last thing I was interested in.

  “Why do you want it?” I turned the tables on her. “You walked away from it, too.”

  Her eyes flashed with something desperate before it instantaneously disappeared. “I did. But that was a long time ago before I was in the position I am now,” she said with such conviction that if I hadn’t been so skeptical of absolutely everything in this town, I would’ve believed her. “There wasn’t much I could do for you whe
n my brother—your parents died.” You could’ve not taken my cousin out of my life, I bit back the argument. “But I can at least alleviate this burden off of your shoulders.”

  It made no sense. She’d never wanted anything to do with the coffee shop—not growing up and definitely not after she married. And the house? Sure, it was worth a hefty sum because of the location alone, but that was nothing, I was sure, compared to the worth of her and her husband’s properties, let alone the revenue that the golf club probably brought in.

  “And what do you want to do with it?”

  She shrugged, flustered. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s so old, it’s probably not worth repairing anyway. But it’s not something you should be worrying about. Just let me take care of it.”

  Not something worth repairing.

  Wrong.

  She was wrong.

  And I’d sell my soul before I sold this business back to her.

  I untangled my arm from hers and stood firmly. “I appreciate that, Aunt Jackie.” I braced myself. “But, as of right now, I don’t plan on selling Roasters. If it’s going to stay in the family, it’s going to stay with me.”

  She couldn’t have been as shocked as I was by my own words.

  Even if it was a show—a lie—to put her off. I’d told someone I wanted to stay at the moment when I had every reason to go.

  Clearing her throat, she forced a smile to her face as she stood poised like a scorpion ready to strike. “I’m sure it’s hard to let it go, but we both know that’s what you want. You know where to find me when you change your mind.”

  Shuffling her designer bag to her other arm, she stalked by me. The door barely shut behind her before I heard her on the phone with my uncle Rich.

  Her strange behavior was forgotten when I stepped outside and directly into the line of sight of the too-handsome contractor on his phone outside Roasters. Hand on his hip and a scowl on his face, whatever news he heard wasn’t good—but it was also forgotten when he saw me.

  Wood-burnt eyes rained sparks down my body, and the tingle that started in my lips spread much lower, a familiar ache settling deep in my stomach.

  He didn’t want me.

  At least, not enough…

  We stared at each other across the road. A chasm of expectations and longing separating us with no bridge in sight.