But he’d think about that later, after this deal was all wrapped up.
Jonathan smelled coffee and followed the scent through the swinging doors from the front parlor into the dining room, with its two large farmhouse tables and a sideboard holding a pot of coffee.
“Hello?” he called out.
He heard running water and pushed through another door into the kitchen. Laura was at the sink, earbuds in, head bopping to a beat and lips mouthing lyrics to a song he couldn’t hear. Even first thing in the morning, no makeup on, hair in a messy ponytail, the woman was gorgeous. He could stand here watching her lip-synch all day long.
Somehow, though, he doubted she’d appreciate that, so he cleared his throat. Her eyes flew open as she pivoted away from the sink, water dripping from her hands to the yellowed linoleum floor.
“Oh, hey.” She pulled out her earbuds.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No worries,” she said, stacking a plate on a full drying rack. “Just cleaning up.”
“No dishwasher?” he asked, looking around the dated kitchen, again not feeling particularly surprised.
She sighed. “We have one, but it stopped working a few months ago, when Gram got really sick. Whenever I try to use it, it backs up into the sink and sprays dirty water from that thingy,” she said, pointing to the air gap cover at the corner of the sink, “onto the floor.”
“Want me to take a look?”
She gave him a skeptical glance, her eyes raking pointedly over his suit and tie. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll get around to calling a plumber one of these days.”
Her quick dismissal of his handyman skills irritated him, although he knew that had he been almost any other associate from his firm, her assessment probably would have been spot-on.
“Do you have time to go over the list of documents I need from you?” he asked. His voice came out gruffer, more demanding, than he would have liked.
She pursed her lips. “Uh, not really. Not right now. Emma’s going to get up any minute, and we’re pretty much flat-out busy all day.”
He blinked. Was she serious? “All day?”
“We’ve got a playdate in the morning, and then I’m meeting someone for lunch.”
“What about after lunch? I can’t draw up the letter of intent to purchase until I have a better idea of exactly what we’re looking at here.”
She shook her head. “I have some work to do this afternoon.”
“But I need those documents to get started on my work.”
She shrugged. “So give me the list. I’ll see if I can find them when I have time.”
“This is time sensitive,” he pressed. “When can you get to it?”
“I don’t know!” she burst out, then immediately added, in a significantly calmer voice, “This was all a big surprise to me, so I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to help you. Maybe it would be best for you to come back when my mom’s back in town.”
No way was he heading back to Boston without putting this deal to bed, or at least making some good headway toward that end. His job—his whole future—was on the line. “Laura, look, I’m sorry for springing this on you. I understand it’s a hassle. Whenever you have time to get to it will be fine.”
She studied him, lips once again pressed into a thin line. “Okay.”
He held up his briefcase. “You mind if I set up shop in the dining room?” If he couldn’t work on the document review for this deal, there was plenty of other work he could do.
She shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”
He went into the dining room. She followed him, watching him take his laptop and a couple of file folders out of his briefcase.
“Help yourself to coffee,” she said. “It’s fresh.”
“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup, then looked at her. “You want any?”
“Already had some.”
He put the pot down. “Okay.”
He sat and shuffled some papers around. He felt awkward. This was an inn, but it was also her home, and he felt like a graceless jerk who’d bumbled his way in.
“There’s cereal, if you want it,” she said. “Or toast.”
“I don’t usually eat breakfast unless I run first.”
“You run every day?” she asked.
Jonathan nodded. “Usually, yeah. Weekends, I mix it up. Add some high-intensity weight training at the gym.”
She gave a mock shudder.
“What’s wrong with weight training?”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it was my ex. You’d think he’d joined the Marines, the way he went on about his weight lifting regimen.”
He laughed. A lot of the guys at the gym were like that. They took themselves—and their workouts—way too seriously.
“If it helps,” he said conspiratorially, “I like running better.”
Her eyes skimmed over his business attire again, although this time they were teasing rather than dismissive. “Well, then, I hope you brought a change of clothes.”
The swinging doors into the dining room opened, and Laura’s daughter—even cuter than she’d been the night before—pushed her way in.
Her eyes went huge when she saw him. “You’re here! You’re still here!” the little girl exclaimed.
“Honey, this is Mr. Jonathan. He’ll be staying at the inn with us for a few days.”
Emma came right up to him and did a pirouette. She was a slight kid, small and lean, but scrappy somehow. Feisty and full of energy. She reminded him of his sister’s dog when they were growing up—a Chihuahua named Tiny Mouse.
“Do you like to dance, Mr. Jonafin?”
“Um...sometimes.” He couldn’t help it, his eyes flicked to Laura when he answered.
“I love to dance.” Emma did another twirl.
“Do you like dogs?” he asked her.
“Dogs are cute!”
“Ever seen a Chihuahua?”
She scrunched up her face in confusion. “A chi-who-wa?”
He pulled out his phone, tapped the dog breed into Google, found a picture and showed it to her.
“Ohhhhhhh,” she sighed. “I love her! She’s so cute!”
“I had a dog like that growing up. Want to know her name?”
Emma bobbed up and down, nodding.
He grinned. “Her name was Tiny Mouse. We called her Tiny.”
“Tiny! ’Cause she’s little and cute!”
“You kind of remind me of her,” he said.
Emma’s eyes went big again. “I do?”
He nodded solemnly. “You do.”
“Because I’m little and cute?”
He reached out, bopped her lightly on the nose. “Exactly.”
She beamed. “What do you like better, Mr. Jonafin? Macaroni or spaghetti?”
“Hmm.” He pretended to think for a moment. “Spaghetti. With meatballs.”
“Just like Yankee Doodle, Mom!”
“I thought Yankee Doodle liked macaroni,” Laura said.
“Nooooo.” Emma shook her head emphatically. “Spaghetti. Definitely spaghetti.”
Jonathan raised an eyebrow at Laura. She smiled and gave him a helpless shrug.
Emma tugged on his hand. “Can I sing ‘Yankee Doodle’ for you, Mr. Jonafin? I really wanna sing ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
“What are you waiting for, Tiny?” He rubbed his hands together in a show of anticipation. “Let’s hear it.”
* * *
“Was it weird?” Chloe asked. “Having him there overnight?”
Laura and Chloe were sitting on the patio at Half Shell, the high-end seafood restaurant Chloe and her brother, Brett, had inherited when their parents died. It was lunchtime, but since it was only mid-April, it was still the off-season, and the restaurant wasn
’t open for business. They were there to talk about the new website Laura was building for Half Shell, which they’d discussed over a couple of burgers that Brett had whipped up while giving Emma an age-appropriate “cooking lesson” in the kitchen. These so-called lessons usually entailed Brett doing the cooking and Emma licking spoons.
Half Shell was located right on the harbor, and although there was still a chill in the air, the sky was dazzlingly clear, the water a slow-churning blue gray. Sailboats and motorboats and even a few commercial fishing boats bobbed in the harbor. Seagulls sculled and screamed overhead. The green light at the end of the jetty flashed faithfully, and Laura chewed on her lip, still trying to reconcile the guy who’d pushed her to find his documents with the one who’d come up with a silly nickname for Emma.
“Was it weird having a guest at The Sea Glass Inn?” Laura parroted back at Chloe. “Um, you do realize that’s what the inn is for, right? Having people stay over?”
“Yes, but not during the off-season. He could be an ax murderer for all you know!”
Laura shook her head in amusement. “He’s not an ax murderer.”
“That’s what they said about Ted Bundy.”
“Also not an ax murderer, Chlo.”
Chloe plucked at the large vintage brooch on her jacket, her expression earnest and a little bit concerned. “You get what I’m saying, though, right?”
Laura smiled at her friend reassuringly. “I do, but it wasn’t weird—aside from him not knowing what to do with the fact that I’m a Christian and wanting me to fetch him all kinds of documents at the drop of a hat. But otherwise he’s perfectly nice, and great with Emma.”
Chloe gaped at her. “You let him spend time with Emma?”
“I didn’t leave my four-year-old daughter with some random stranger, if that’s what you’re asking. But when he came downstairs to get coffee this morning, he let her sing ‘Yankee Doodle’ to him seventeen times.”
Chloe’s eyes bugged out. “He did?”
Laura took a sip of water to hide her smile. “He did.”
“Wow. He looked so...businesslike last night. I wouldn’t have guessed he liked kids.”
“I know, right?” Laura giggled. He had looked a little helpless and panicky by the end of Emma’s protracted serenade. Laura had finally taken pity on the man and told her daughter that they had to let “Mr. Jonafin” get on with his day.
“You still good with me taking the squirt to that movie this afternoon?” Chloe asked.
“Sure. It’ll give me a chance to do as my mother wanted me to do and ‘show our guest around a little.’” Laura put those last few words in air quotes.
Chloe gave her friend a long look.
“What?”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“I don’t dislike him,” Laura said slowly.
“But...?”
Laura pushed a strand of dark hair back from her face. “But he represents a client who wants to tear down the inn. So, forgive me if I’m not exactly jumping for joy that he’s a decent conversationalist.”
“Not bad to look at, either.”
Laura threw her friend the stink eye. “Chloe...”
Her friend laughed and held up her hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“Do whatever you want. He’s a workaholic just like my dad and Conrad. He came downstairs this morning in a suit and tie and asked to set up his laptop in the dining room. He’s been sitting there ever since. There’s no way I’d ever get involved with a guy like him.”
Chloe grimaced. “He put on a suit and tie to work remotely from your dining room?”
“Yes! That’s what I’m saying! Workaholic with a capital W.” She took another sip of her water. “Oh, and he does ‘high-intensity weight training,’ just like Conrad.” She rolled her eyes.
Chloe laughed. “Well, that does it, then! Weight training? He’s completely off the table.”
“So off the table.”
Chloe sighed. “‘Yankee Doodle,’ though. That’s kind of endearing.”
Laura smirked. “And Ted Bundy just seemed like such a nice young man.”
They both burst out laughing.
Chapter Three
Jonathan looked up from his computer when Laura breezed into the dining room after lunch. She looked relaxed and happy in jeans and a purple cashmere sweater, and she smelled like citrus and coconuts. He felt stupid about it, like an unsophisticated schoolboy, but he found the scent delightful.
“Got time to talk about those documents now?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t, sorry.” She sat next to him, took out her laptop and set it up on the table. As it was booting up, she turned and caught him staring. “Am I disturbing you?”
He gave his head a quick shake. “It’s your inn.”
She watched her computer screen for a second, then turned back to him and gave him an assessing look. “You have a video conference or something?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“What’s with the suit?”
He looked down at himself. Before she’d reappeared, he’d taken off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of his chair, loosened his tie and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, although he supposed he still looked pretty formal to someone like her, who seemed to live in jeans. “Oh. I think better when I’m wearing it. Puts me in the right mind-set for work.”
She nodded and focused on her screen. He glanced at her screen, too. It looked like she was coding something in HTML. “What are you working on?” he asked.
“Building a website for my friend Chloe’s restaurant.”
“You’re a web designer?”
She shook her head. “Hardly. But I’ve picked up a few things here and there. I’m hoping to make a little extra money to pay for some repairs on the inn.”
“The roof?” he asked.
“How’d you know?”
“The water mark on the ceiling in my room.”
Laura groaned. “Another one? Great.”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” he said.
She sighed. “I knew things were bad already. I just need a little more time to get my ducks in a row.”
“After the sale, you won’t need to worry about any of it. You’ll be rolling in dough.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s what everyone cares about.”
He spread his hands. “Hey, there are plenty of people out there who’d be happy to have a little cushion.”
“And you know all about living paycheck to paycheck, right, Mr. BMW?”
He was irritated by her assumptions about him again. He’d worked hard to get where he was today. He’d hustled for handyman work as a high school and college kid to pay for his room, board and textbooks at SUNY Albany. Then he’d taken a couple of years off between college and law school, living at home and working on his uncle’s construction crew to save enough money to get through Harvard Law without racking up an obscene amount of debt. “I didn’t grow up with money, you know.”
She arched an eyebrow. “No?”
“No.”
She studied him for a second. “Well, I did. And it’s not everything it’s cracked up to be.”
They both turned their attention to their computers, but it wasn’t long before he found himself trying to engage her in conversation again. “So, did you study computer science in school?”
“I was more interested in English and journalism back then. But I didn’t finish college.”
That caught Jonathan off guard. The thought of not finishing college was almost inconceivable to him, given what it had symbolized in his life: a ticket away from both his father and all the kids who’d bullied him because of the rumors about his dad.
“You didn’t finish college?” he repeate
d incredulously. “Why not?” He saw a flash of defiance fly across her face and immediately regretted his tone.
“You have noticed the little person who trails around after me, right? Small, brown hair, likes to sing ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
He grinned. “Yes, she’s hard to miss.”
“Well, I got married, then left school when I got pregnant.”
“You must have been really young.”
She crossed her arms warily over her chest. “I was twenty.”
“Young,” he repeated. “How come you didn’t go back after she was born?”
“Hard to go back to school in Boston when you live on Cape Cod.” She still looked guarded.
“Where’d you go?” he asked.
“Boston University.”
“You could have transferred,” he said.
“Yes, because I had tons of free time in between caring for my newborn baby, my grandmother and the inn. Plus dealing with the divorce.”
He winced. “I’m not trying to criticize. Just trying to understand.”
Laura sighed. “When you figure it out, let me know, okay? Because I’ve been trying to understand what happened for years now, and I still can’t get my head around it.”
He tried to go back to his own work, but he couldn’t focus. “Your ex. He’s not very involved?”
“More like he’s not involved at all. He hasn’t even met Emma in person, you know.”
“What?” He felt something hot and fierce tear through him, outraged on her behalf. “How is that even possible?”
She shrugged. “He cheated on me with one of his law firm partners while we were still married. She got transferred to the West Coast before Emma was born and—poof—he was gone.”
Jonathan scraped a hand down his face. “You’re better off without him. You know that, right?”
Her lips quirked up, almost as though she was trying not to laugh at him. “I know.”
Something uncomfortable occurred to him. “He was a lawyer?”
“I was wondering if you’d catch that.” There was more of that secret amusement in her eyes.
Falling for the Innkeeper Page 3