“Hear, hear!” Mason fist-bumped Charley, who blushed. “It would be great PR for the island, and we’d be helping people in the process.”
“One problem solved.” Elliott unhooked his stare from Rebel’s before he got choked up too. “How ’bout forming a coalition so island business owners have more leverage and bargaining power?”
Everyone went quiet, listening.
“If they organized and ordered from the same vendors and suppliers, they could negotiate better prices.” He stressed the word they, since he wouldn’t be included in the venture.
Mason seemed impressed. “Sounds like a great idea.”
“I’m in.” Charley held up her glass. “Briley, give them the short version of our new business plan.”
Briley looked uncomfortable. When she finally looked up, her eyes darted to Spence, then cut away just as quickly. Ah. Little brother either wasn’t aware of Briley’s interest, or he wasn’t telling Elliott everything.
“Charley and I are working on a long-term plan to expand our menu, so we need to cut costs without cutting quality.” Briley spoke to everyone, making eye contact with everyone except Spence.
“Then we need someone to take charge, and I was thinking . . .” Elliott zeroed in on Mason. “Mason, you’d be a good choice.”
Before Mason could respond, Trace spoke up. “No offense to Mason, but this gig is perfect for you, Thing One.” He leaned around Elliott and looked at Rebel. “What do you think, Rebel?”
All heads turned to her, putting her square in the spotlight.
“I . . .” She stared down at her folded hands, picking her words carefully, obviously not wanting to give up his secret. “Elliott makes solid business decisions, so I trust his judgment if he thinks Mason should take charge. As long as he’s doing what makes him happy, I’m all for it.”
What makes him happy? Good question. One he’d been asking himself a lot lately.
And for the life of him, he wasn’t so sure of the answer anymore.
Chapter Twenty
#DEJAVUISABITCH
After two more days of hard work with the campers and two late nights in bed, Rebel pushed Elliott out of the shower when he tried to get in with her.
“We’re late. The campers are waiting for us.” She shut the shower door and squirted soap into her palm.
“I had Charley send coffee and doughnuts over to the garage. They’ll be fine,” Elliott said. “We’ll get there quicker if we shower together.”
Rebel lathered up her body, then cracked the shower door. She didn’t say a word. Just let his smoky, lust-filled gaze drift over her soapy skin.
She lifted a brow. “That’s my point.” She closed the door again.
Elliott grabbed it before it shut. He rolled it open, pulled her into a kiss that turned the insides of her eyelids white while he massaged one sudsy breast into an aching mound, then smacked her bottom with an open palm and stepped away.
“I’ll go to Spence’s and shower.” Elliott—in all of his six-feet-plus alpha glory—actually sounded pouty.
Which caused a wonderful flutter to take flight in her stomach.
She was in love.
Head over heels, one hundred percent, crazy in love. Okay, she’d never stopped loving Elliott, but that love had grown deeper until she couldn’t imagine a life without him.
How was she going to pick up the pieces of her heart and move on once she went back to Portland and he went back to San Francisco? They might be living on the same coast, but their worlds were in separate universes, and there was no way she could assimilate into his.
And after the way his family had warmed up to her, it was going to destroy her all over again to leave both Elliott and the rest of the Remingtons. So she’d started trying to put up emotional walls.
Like the veterans she worked with.
Impossible with Elliott’s effort to feed the homeless as a veritable tribute to her.
She finished drying her hair and got dressed, just as a text dinged her phone. It was from Elliott.
Take your time. I texted Jax and he said the campers are busy helping him pick out a name for his dragonfly while they all scarf down doughnuts and coffee.
Rebel laughed out loud. A few weeks ago, Elliott would’ve smarted off by comparing the dragonfly’s intelligence to Jax’s. Now Elliott acted like a big brother.
She took Rem outside, leading him around to the back lawn so he had plenty of options to mark as his own. Then she headed for the back entrance that led into the kitchen.
She stopped. A whole new kind of pain vibrated through her.
The back entrance was for family.
Once upon a time, she’d been expected to use that entrance. Walking through that door was symbolic in so many ways that it made her heart fill with sadness.
She took a deep, satisfying breath and tugged it open. The delectable aroma of freshly baked sweets spilled out along with the clatter of pots and pans.
“Sit.” She gave Rem the command to stay put just inside the back door.
“Hey!” Charley waved Rebel in.
She pulled out a stool at the counter where Charley was glazing a pan of doughnuts.
“Coffee? Doughnut?” Charley wiped her hands on a towel.
“Both. Your doughnuts could win a Nobel Peace Prize.”
Charley dished up a doughnut and set a cup in front of Rebel, pouring liquid heaven into it.
“Oh. God.” Rebel let the bold brew roll over her tongue.
“I’m the only restaurateur on the island who serves it. No one else can land a contract with the coffee company.” Charley winked. “Helps to have connections. Plus, my family back in Seattle knows I’d organize picket lines in front of their building for the rest of eternity if they dared sell beans to anyone else in Angel Fire Falls.” She went back to glazing.
“Do you miss Seattle?” Rebel let the cup hover at her lips.
“Sometimes, but I came here to get away from . . .” She paused. “Toxic people. I didn’t think I’d stay on the island forever, but this opportunity opened up, and I took it. I’m definitely happier here than I was in Seattle.”
Rebel swirled the caramel-colored liquid around in her cup, taking stock of what was waiting for her back in Portland. Besides a lot of acquaintances she couldn’t really call friends because she’d kept them at arm’s length for fear she’d accidentally say too much about her mother’s accident, there wasn’t much left in Portland. No toxic people making it easy for her to leave for good. No one at all, in fact.
The commercial property on sale for a rock-bottom price was the only pull Portland had on her. It was her one and only chance to open her own training facility. But the one and only chance she had at love wasn’t in Portland.
“So how is it being back on the island?” Charley asked.
“It’s been good.” Great, actually. “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.” Or how much she’d missed Elliott.
“But you’re still ready to go home as soon as the camp is over.” It wasn’t a question. Charley was sizing up the situation, obviously looking out for her cousin. She just didn’t know that Elliott was just as ready to leave as Rebel.
Rebel’s heart beat at an odd rhythm.
Truth was, she wasn’t all that ready to leave Angel Fire Falls or the resort or the Remington family. And especially not Elliott. But she had to. There was no commercial training facility for sale on the island. No training facility at all, and she’d never be able to afford to build one herself. Even if she could come up with the money, Elliott wouldn’t be on the island, so what would be the point?
“Be back in a sec. I need cinnamon and sugar.” Charley tossed the hand towel over a shoulder and disappeared into the pantry.
Rebel picked up the doughnut and took a big, mouthwatering bite. And realized she’d literally bitten off more than she could chew. Her mouth was so stuffed that the warm chocolate smeared around her lips and dribbled down her chin.
She sw
iped at her mouth, which only smeared the warm glaze more. She stood and looked around for a napkin. A towel. Anything.
With the doughnut still in her hand, she hurried toward the shelves near the back door in search of something to wipe her mouth.
The door swung open, and Elliott stepped inside. With Mr. Collins right behind him.
She froze, doughnut in hand. Mouth full. Face chocolatey.
Dear Lord.
Elliott’s expression blanked as he took her in.
She covered her mouth with the back of her free hand to offer a morning greeting. “Wourn-ing.”
Awesome. She wasn’t just a dog whisperer anymore. She could add Scooby-Doo imitations to her résumé.
Elliott’s blank expression turned to worry, and Rem moved from his spot by the back door to lean heavily against Elliott’s side.
He grabbed a roll of paper towels off the shelf, tore it open, and held up a few sheets. “Mr. Collins came in on the first ferry this morning.”
She chewed, swallowed ten thousand calories of heaven, and snatched the paper towel from Elliott’s fingers to wipe her mouth. “I, um, didn’t realize you’d be here today, Mr. Collins.”
“Obviously,” Collins said flatly.
Déjà vu was an even bigger bitch than karma.
Charley reemerged from the pantry. “Hey.”
“Charlotte, can you get Mr. Collins a cup of coffee and a pastry?” When any of the Remingtons called their cousin by her given name, it was serious.
Charley’s hesitation was invisible to anyone who didn’t know the Remingtons. She waved Collins to the stool Rebel had just vacated. “Have a seat, Mr. Collins.”
“We’ll be right back.” Elliott took Rebel’s elbow and all but hauled her outside.
Rem followed, getting more agitated.
As soon as the back door swung shut, Elliott said, “I fucked up.”
“What happened? You’re scaring me.” The shrill tone in her voice made Rem whine. Honestly, she was surprised the dog wasn’t the only one who could hear the high pitch.
Elliott pinched the bridge of his nose. “I invited Collins. The camp was going so well, I thought it would be a good time to start doing interviews.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and wouldn’t look at her. “I wanted him to see us . . .” He closed his eyes. “I wanted him to see you working with the campers in person.”
“Good idea.” She bent to look up at Elliott, making him meet her gaze. “And?”
“After I got dressed at Spence’s, I stopped in at the garage. Collins was there with a couple of journalists who have cameras.” He rubbed his jaw as though what he was about to say was painful. “Several of the dogs aren’t feeling well.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no, NO!
Collins showing up was one thing. But pictures and videos didn’t lie, and this wasn’t going to end well.
She took off at a dead run for the garage.
Elliott’s dad was from the generation who didn’t keep a cell attached at the hip. So Elliott sent an SOS text to his brothers and Lily asking them to find Dad to help with damage control ASAP. Then he stuck his head in the door and told Collins to meet him at the garage when he’d finished breakfast. Elliott didn’t wait for him. He wanted to get to Rebel so she wouldn’t have to face the cameras alone.
When he got to the garage, a few of the veterans loitered out front with their dogs, which seemed fine.
Elliott found everyone else inside. Rebel knelt in front of Simba, feeling his nose. “When did this start?”
“He wasn’t his usual chipper self this morning, but he didn’t seem that bad until a half hour ago,” the veteran said.
She lay flat on her stomach, eye level with Simba. He wouldn’t lift his head.
Just as Collins walked in, she moved on to Harley. Same thing. As she moved to the next sick service dog, one of the reporters motioned to her cameraman to roll tape by twirling her finger in a circle.
Collins crossed his arms and stewed.
Quietly, Elliott stepped in front of the camera, blocking its view of Rebel. “This is private property, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait outside until we’re ready.”
When they didn’t budge but glanced at Collins, Elliott said, “Or you can leave the premises entirely. Your choice.” His voice was low and lethal. He didn’t particularly care about impressing Collins or Down Home Dog Food at the moment. Call him a caveman, but his biggest concern was protecting his woman.
Reluctantly, the journalists and their crews obliged.
Elliott stayed right on their heels to escort them to the door. Only to run headlong into Mick and a woman Elliott didn’t recognize. She was dressed like a runway model and had the figure of a pinup centerfold. Mick’s usual since he’d sworn off marriage and was still making three different alimony payments.
Here they all were. How nice.
“What are you doing here?” Elliott said to Mick through gritted teeth.
“Nice to see you too after all these months,” Mick said. “This is Candy.”
She gave Elliott an airy smile that said her body might be a twelve and a half but her brain was much less impressive. Then she offered her hand to Elliott for a shake. When he tried to let go, her grasp linger a fraction longer than appropriate.
Of course her name was Candy. What else would it be?
Mick leaned in. “You said a potential big client would be here, so I came to make sure you don’t lose your spot at the firm by helping you close this deal.”
Blood pounded in Elliott’s ears. “The firm is shorthanded, and you’re here? You know damn good and well I can handle closing a client on my own.”
“You’re welcome, by the way.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Your family’s resort was all booked up. Must not be doing as poorly as you led me to believe. So a better question is, what are you still doing here?”
Before Elliott could explain that the resort was booked up because of the potential new client, his dad walked in. “What’s up, son?”
Christ.
Mick introduced himself. “You must be Elliott’s dad. I’m his boss.”
His dad frowned and gave Elliott a questioning look.
Panic flashed through him. “Dad, I owe you an apology, but I’ll have to explain later. Right now we’ve got a garage full of sick dogs. Can you call Dr. Shaw and ask if he’ll make an emergency house call?” He turned to Mick. “Sit tight, and you’ll get an explanation too.” Elliott went to Rebel, who was prostrate on the floor in front of another dog. “Dad’s calling Dr. Shaw.”
Defeat dimmed her eyes, and he helped her to her feet. “I separated the dogs that seem fine and sent them outside. Maybe these didn’t get vaccinated for Bordetella.” She motioned to the lethargic canines lying around the garage.
Collins, obviously tired of waiting for answers, stalked over. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Mr. Collins, do you have the dogs’ shot records?” Rebel asked. “They were never forwarded to us.”
“I have no idea where the shot records are,” Collins huffed. “They were housed at a penitentiary, remember?”
Oh, Elliott remembered all right.
“What’s wrong with them?” Collins snapped.
The tone in his voice as he spoke to Rebel made the hair on Elliott’s arms stand up, and he eased closer to her.
“I think they’re coming down with kennel cough,” she said.
Collins looked down his nose at her like she was stupid. “None of them are coughing.”
“Not yet,” Rebel said. “But they will.”
“How will this affect the camp?” Collins demanded. “We’ve got a lot of money invested in this event.”
“I understand, sir.” Rebel’s voice was controlled, but a thread of desperation caused the slightest shake. “But the dogs will need to rest for several days while they’re taking antibiotics. The boot camp was already on an intensive schedule that I would’ve never agreed to had I been the original trainer in cha
rge.” She gave Elliott an apologetic stare. “Now we’ll need to push the campers’ graduation date out at least a week. Or cancel it before we’re finished, because the dogs won’t be able to train until they’re well.”
Collins scoffed in a way that had the back of Elliott’s neck prickling. “You told me the camp was going well.” He glared at Elliott. “I came here with reporters.”
“It was going well,” Elliott said. “This is a new development.”
“Then I’ll need your word that you and the Remington will keep the camp going for as long as it takes, or it will be a disaster for all of us,” Collins barked, his voice rising.
“Hold up.” Mick joined them, obviously eavesdropping. “I need you back in San Francisco.”
Mick’s date glided over in her platform heels and wrapped a hand around his arm. “I’m Candy.” She inserted herself into the conversation, obviously not having enough sense to know it wasn’t the right time.
She smiled at Elliott. Then she offered her hand to Collins. When she did the same to Rebel, Candy’s eyes roamed over Rebel’s work clothes.
With an uncertain expression, Rebel reached out to take Candy’s hand, who recoiled slightly. Candy shook with the tips of her manicured fingers like she was afraid to touch Rebel.
Then Candy brushed off her hand.
At Rebel’s sharp intake of breath, Elliott fell silent. She looked over Candy’s impeccable appearance, smoothing a palm over her hair. The tremor in Rebel’s hand told him how self-conscious she was. When she looked down at her fleece jacket and jeans and her eyes widened in horror at the dog hair coating her front from lying prostrate while checking on the sick dogs, Elliott ground his teeth into dust.
“The Remington assured my company that your resort would deliver the results we were looking for,” Collins huffed at Elliott. “I’m holding you personally responsible to see this through until those results are achieved.”
Shit.
“I’m sure, as one of the best financial managers in the country, you have your reasons for spending valuable time on a dog show instead of watching the Dow like a hawk so you can actually do your job and make brilliant trades for our clients,” Mick interrupted. “Meanwhile, we’re bleeding accounts at a firm that you now own a share of, so you need to wrap this up and get back to work, or your partnership is history.”
Dare Me Again Page 24