A Lot Like Love

by Jennifer Snow

  “Bad,” she said simply. “And Wes Sharrun had the nerve to try to guilt me into renovating.” “Guilt” may be a strong word. He’d simply suggested she think about it. But she did feel guilty, and it was partly his fault.

  Her friends exchanged looks.

  “What?” she asked, biting into a chocolate pastry. The combination of cocoa and sugar made her eyes close as she savored the burst of flavor dancing on her tongue.

  “Wes was here?” Whitney asked.

  “A few hours ago.”

  The two women stared at her as though waiting for her to elaborate.

  “Well, how was seeing him again?” Jessica asked, tying her dark, wavy hair back from her face as the early-evening breeze off the ocean picked up.

  Sarah waved a hand. “I see him all the time on Facebook. It was no different.”

  Except that it was totally different. Her former crush was no longer a cute athlete who she’d tutored for two years and never had a chance with, given he and Kelly were the school’s famous couple. Now he was a hot-as-hell business owner, widower, and single dad. One who had encouraged her to invest a ton of her savings into restoring an old family property she wanted nothing to do with.

  “That’s a lie,” Whitney said, sipping her wine.

  “That was a schoolgirl crush I had on him years ago. And I’ve totally forgiven him for the incident that we’re never to discuss.” Maybe telling her friends what had happened that night years ago or her revenge fantasies since then was a bad idea.

  “Okay, we’ll pretend to buy that,” Whitney said, kicking her feet free of her sandals and folding her long legs under her on the chair. At five foot nine and 120 pounds soaking wet, her blond bombshell of a best friend had missed her calling as a fashion model. Instead, she was head of marketing and tourism at the mayor’s office in town.

  “So, what do you plan to do?” Jessica asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.

  “So many hotel chains have been after this amazing location for years; you could reach out to one of them,” Whitney said.

  “Grandma always said no to their offers.”

  “She loved this place,” Whitney said softly. “Even if keeping it wasn’t in her best interest.”

  Sarah heard her friend’s unvoiced warning. Would she be repeating her grandmother’s mistake if she kept it and renovated in the hope of saving it?

  “How was the funeral?” Jessica asked, changing the subject as she reached out to squeeze Sarah’s hand.

  The comforting gesture was something she hadn’t realized she’d needed. The last few days had been busy with the funeral and will, and she really hadn’t had time to mourn the loss. “Nice. Private. The way Grandma would have wanted it.”

  Her grandmother spent her life opening her door to strangers, but her heart had been reserved for family. She always knew everything about everyone within minutes of meeting them. People loved to open up to Dove, but the older woman had always kept her own secrets close to her chest.

  “Everyone’s gone already?” Jessica asked.

  Sarah nodded. “We did manage to get a family photo before they left, though.” Unlocking her cell phone screen with her thumbprint, she flicked to the photo and handed the phone to Jessica.

  “Aww…this is a nice one,” she said, tilting the phone so Whitney could see. She squinted, peering closer. “Who’s the guy in the background?”

  Whitney dragged her finger and thumb across the screen to enlarge the view of the beach. “Isn’t that the old guy who lives down near south pier? He’s always out there on the beach with his metal detector. I’ve never seen him around here before, though.”

  “He doesn’t have a metal detector here,” Sarah said, looking at the photo. She hadn’t even noticed him on that side of the beach that day.

  “Friend of your grandma’s, maybe?” Jessica suggested.

  Sarah shrugged, taking the phone back. “Maybe. He didn’t talk to us.” Most likely just a stranger strolling the beach that morning. She could crop him out if she decided to frame the picture.

  “Did your grandmother leave a note or anything, explaining this?” Whitney asked, gesturing around them.

  Sarah nodded, reaching into her pocket for the ambiguous five-word sticky note she’d been trying to figure out all day and handed it to Whitney.

  “A Post-it? That’s it?” she asked.

  “Grandma kept things brief,” Sarah said, gulping her wine.

  “You’ll know what to do,” Jessica read over Whitney’s shoulder. They looked at her. “Do you?”

  “Nope. Other than selling it, what else can I do?” She checked her phone. She’d left three messages for her boss, who was now ignoring her calls, and Sarah recognized the power move that said she was on thin ice. “I really need to get back to L.A.”

  “Have you heard about your promotion yet?” Whitney asked.

  “Not yet. Being here isn’t exactly helping.” She bit her lip. Her boss was a workaholic. She never took time off and didn’t love the fact that she was expected to give her staff holiday time. This time off was the first “vacation” Sarah had taken in four years. She loved her job at Digital Strategies, where she worked developing new apps for long-distance communication and teleconferencing. And with the promotion, she’d be working directly under the VP of development, a position she’d been busting her butt for, hoping it would give her more freedom and flexibility to work on projects she was passionate about.

  “Staying in town for a while wouldn’t be so bad. We love having you here.” Jessica nodded. “And you can help us plan Whitney’s wedding.”

  As one of the bridesmaids, Sarah would be heavily involved in her friend’s big day…if Whitney ever committed to a date. A year since she’d gotten engaged, Whitney turned a shade paler whenever anyone asked when the big day would be.

  Like now.

  “Do we have a date yet?” she asked.

  Whitney squirmed on the chair. “We’re getting closer to nailing down a day…” She sipped her wine.

  “So…fall?” Jessica asked.

  “Maybe fall…maybe next spring,” Whitney said, unfolding her legs and sitting forward on her chair. “Right now, we’re dealing with Sarah’s dilemma.”

  Sarah suspected Whitney had good reason for putting them off, and she respected her friend’s privacy, so she shot Jessica a look that said, Let it go for now.

  Her cell chimed with a new notification, and she dove for it.

  But she frowned, seeing the Facebook message. “It’s a Facebook message from Wes.”

  I’ve attached the quote for renovations based on the inspection we did months ago. Let me know what you think.

  “It’s a quote for renovations,” she told her friends.

  “How much?” Whitney asked.

  Sarah lowered the phone and shook her head in disbelief. “You know, that guy has a lot of nerve just assuming I’ll do what he wants. I told him I didn’t know what I planned to do yet.”

  “How much?” Whitney repeated, sending her a look that suggested her past grudge was showing.

  Sarah sighed as she skipped the list of things needing repairs and found the price at the bottom. She squinted to look at the dollar amount. “Could that be right?” She’d estimated at least double what he was quoting. She quickly responded, asking Wes if there was a mistake.

  Seconds later came his reply: Incentive pricing to give the inn a second chance.

  She sighed.

  “What did he say?” Jessica asked.

  Sarah showed her friends the message.

  “Well, the price to fix this place up couldn’t possibly be better, and you could work from here, right?” Jessica said.

  Her office did do most of their work remotely with just weekly meetings or pitch presentations in the office… Sarah stared a
t the old house. Could she do it? Obviously her friends wanted her to, but putting her own life on hold didn’t exactly appeal to her. But then neither did seeing a historic building and her grandmother’s legacy disappear.

  “I think I need more wine for this decision,” Sarah said, picking up the bottle. Three drops trickled out.

  “Is there any in the cellar?” Whitney asked.

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “I’d totally forgotten about the cellar. Let’s go check.” They stood and followed her inside. “I feel like I should ask you to sign waivers before entering,” she said, stepping over a loose floorboard in the entryway. “Be careful on the stairs.” She hit the light on the wall above the curving, concrete stairwell heading down to the cellar. The dim lighting and low ceiling made her shiver.

  “This is creepy at night,” Jessica said, echoing her thoughts.

  “It’s kinda Phantom of the Opera-ish,” Whitney said. “You could totally use this staircase in pics for the sale brochure.”

  They reached the big wooden crescent-shaped door with its iron ring handle. When they were kids, the cellar used to make the best hiding place. She hadn’t been down there in years, though, and it was no doubt just a castle for spiders and mice by now. She shivered at the thought as she pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”

  “Grab the ring,” Jessica told Whitney.

  “On three…”

  They pulled, and this time the door flew open.

  Sarah entered, feeling along the wall until her hand hit the switch. As the space illuminated, her breath caught. Wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor wine racks were full of dusty bottles.

  “Holy shit,” Whitney said, entering. She approached a rack and picked up a bottle, then blew the dust away. “This is a 1987 merlot.” She picked up another one. “This one is from ’79.”

  “These are all vintage, too,” Jessica said from the other side of the rack. “There has to be thousands of dollars’ worth of wine down here.”

  “Everything is organized by type…and date.” Unexplainable excitement rose in Sarah’s chest as she continued scanning the rows of liquid gold.

  Jessica rejoined them, a bottle of wine in each hand. “I think this is a sign.”

  Sarah shook her head. “You think everything is a sign.”

  “This cellar would be an amazing draw for a potential buyer, if they could get past the deteriorating exterior,” Whitney said, then held up her hands in defense of Sarah’s look. “Just sayin’.”

  Sarah released a deep breath as she stood in the middle of the cellar. This cellar was a treasure, and the price to renovate was reasonable. She’d make the money back after the sale. And she didn’t really need to be on-site to do her job. She could drive into the city whenever necessary…

  Whitney and Jessica continued to stare at her expectantly.

  Sarah sighed. “Fine, Grandma—you win. Here goes nothing,” she said, taking her cell phone from her pocket. Opening the message from Wes, she typed quickly before she could change her mind: When can you start?

  Chapter Four

  There were worse ways to wake up in the morning.

  Maybe she was still dreaming. Sarah blinked several times, but the sight of Wes’s six-pack abs was real outside the bedroom window.

  Those certainly hadn’t been there in high school.

  He’d always been athletically built, but more lean and cut from a young metabolism and all the cardio playing football. This new muscular body was the product of his hard, laborious days. A tanned chest and the hint of oblique muscles appearing at the top of his jeans were almost enough for her to forgive the unmerciful hammering he was doing at… She rolled to look at the clock on the bedside table.

  Ten fifteen?

  Shit.

  She sat up quickly. Too quickly. Her head throbbed, the pounding inside her brain keeping time with the pounding against the roof. Too much wine the night before.

  The muffled sound of her cell phone ringing coming from somewhere among the bedsheets and pillows, her boss’s ringtone, had her moving all her electronics off the bed to try to locate the phone. She’d been awake until two a.m. working on the proposal for SmartTech Kids. Their new potential client needed an app aimed at kids and teens, and if Sarah had a shot at the promotion, she needed to push herself beyond her comfort zone of telecommunications and show her boss she could handle different kinds of accounts.

  Finding the cell phone, she took a deep breath and tried to sound as wide awake as possible as she answered. “Gail! Hi!”

  “Is there no cell service out there?”

  Her boss’s chilly tone made her shiver. “So sorry, Gail. Yesterday was…eventful.” She’d spare her the details; Gail wasn’t one for water cooler chitchat. Her employees’ personal lives were of zero interest. Sarah knew absolutely nothing about her boss besides her hard-nosed business persona. She’d never met a spouse at any of the corporate events the company held, there were no family photos in her boss’s office, and her expensive suits were always pet-fur-free, so Sarah could only assume the company was Gail’s life. Unless there was a goldfish or something…

  “I received your email last night with the revisions to the first proposal…”

  Sarah held her breath. These revisions were the fourth round that her boss had requested. She was running out of ideas for ways to design the kid app the company was looking for. Not having kids, it was difficult for her to determine what they’d even use an app for in the first place. So far, she’d focused on practicality—a messaging system to connect with friends, a safety GPS locating system…but the company wanted the app to appeal to kids, not necessarily to their parents.

  “It’s still not wowing me,” she said.

  Not much wowed Gail. Almost impossible to impress, but there was such a sense of accomplishment and pride to be had whenever Sarah was able to garner any kind of praise from the woman. “I’m still coming up with ideas.”

  “You’re thinking with your adult head. You need to think like a kid. What did you wish you had an app for when you were ten years old?”

  To beam her out of Blue Moon Bay. Same thing she’d like an app for right now.

  She repressed a sigh. Staying upbeat was the only acceptable attitude with Gail’s critiques. “You’re right. Absolutely. I’ll work on it again today.”

  “Here at the office? I’ll meet you there for a brainstorming session.”

  Sarah cringed. The last brainstorming session had been sixteen hours long, and they hadn’t even ordered in food. Her desperation for sustenance had somehow miraculously led to an idea Gail was happy enough with. Obviously her creativity thrived on survival mode. “I’ve actually hit a snag. Nothing too serious,” she said quickly. “Just something I need to deal with for my grandmother’s estate…I’ll need another day here.”

  Silence.

  Gail always gave employees time to revise their final answer. “I mean, not a full day, of course.” It was already after ten. “I’m sure I can wrap this up and be back in L.A. in a few hours.”

  “I’ll expect you at the office around four.”

  She better hope not to hit traffic on the way back into the city. “Thank you so much for understanding, Gail. And I’ll work on the—”

  Silence. Gail had hung up.

  Tossing the bedsheets aside, Sarah ran to shut the blinds (after another peek at Wes’s body). She could ogle him, but there was no way he was seeing her first thing in the morning.

  Hurrying into the bathroom, she undressed, turned on the shower, and stepped into the spray. She quickly lathered her hair and ran the soap over her body.

  Think like a kid…

  What would a kid want to do with an app? Play games? There were enough of those available already. The design she had so far could already post photos and videos to the internet. What else did kids do with techn
ology?

  She was coming up blank, and she needed something new to offer, otherwise she’d be at the office with Gail that evening until sunrise tomorrow morning.

  Come on, Sarah! Think!

  Freezing-cold water hit her back, and her breath caught in her chest. She scurried away from the stream, grabbing the curtain to use as a barrier from the spray. She slipped on the wet, soapy bathtub floor and clutched the fabric frantically, causing the rod to come loose from the wall.

  What the hell?

  She cranked the tap higher and tentatively reached a hand forward.

  Still cold.

  Shaving her legs would have to wait, even though it really couldn’t, but she needed to wash the suds out of her hair at least. She hung the suction-cup rod back in place; then, taking a deep breath and summoning all the courage she could muster, she ducked her head under the freezing water.

  Her breath came in a succession of short gasps as the drops cascaded down her back. Dancing from one foot to the other, she struggled to stay beneath the stream, but fear of hypothermia had her shutting off the taps within seconds. Goose bumps, the size of golf balls, appeared on her skin, despite the sweltering heat in the un-air-conditioned bathroom.

  Shivering, she wrapped her towel around herself and slid her feet into a pair of slippers.

  Her hair, soapy and flat to her head, the strands dripping down her back, she rushed downstairs and out onto the front deck. Making her way to the side of the house, she stopped when Wes’s ladder came into view, propped against the side.

  “Wes!” Damn, this was embarrassing. It might have been better to let him catch her in her pajamas, but she needed to finish her shower and hit the road as soon as possible. “Wes!” she called louder over the hammering.

  He stopped and bent his head lower beneath the awning to see her. “Good morning.”

  “Nope. Not even close,” she muttered. She gripped the towel tighter at the top of her breasts with one hand and tried to yank it lower with the other, suddenly aware of how small it was. A warm ocean breeze blew across her legs, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d shaved them.