by Aycart, Elle
Rachel took care of the introductions, but there was no way in hell Audrey was going to remember all the names, so she just smiled and politely nodded.
“I didn’t understand the reason why we moved the meetings from the library to here, but I totally get it now,” some middle-aged lady said—Penny, Audrey thought her name was.
“I’m sorry. We’re normally much quieter,” Audrey explained.
“Don’t apologize. This is so much fun,” the lady said, flagging Suzy. “What do you say, margaritas for everyone?”
The nods were unanimous.
Christy rolled her eyes. “We’ll never agree on a book, then.”
“These meetings are always a bit… unorthodox, as in raunchy, and that was when we were in the library and weren’t allowed to booze. Imagine how it’s going to be here,” Rachel told Audrey. “The books are fun to read, but in my opinion the best part is sharing with the ladies. Laugh therapy, believe me.”
They could sign her up, then. Audrey’s life was short on laughs.
“My husband calls our meetings CC—clits and chicks,” the girl Rachel had introduced as Annie Bowen said.
“I think we should change the name to the Sci-Fi book club,” Holly muttered. “Never in my whole life have I met such fantastic male specimens as the ones in these books. I’m pretty sure they don’t exist. Yeah, yeah,” she continued, pointing at Kyra, Christy, Annie, and Rachel. “I know you disagree, but I believe the endorphins of being in love make you hallucinate.”
The girls gave her pitying looks. “You’ll get your chance yet. You’ll change your mind,” Kyra said.
Holly didn’t seem convinced. Neither were some of the older women. She turned to Audrey. “Do you have an e-reader?”
At her shake of the head, Rachel said, “I gave my old one to my grandmother, but you can borrow one from the library.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll ask around,” Audrey said. She remembered seeing Red with one. Maybe she could borrow it from time to time. Audrey herself had a tablet; maybe she could work with that.
“If you have a boyfriend, this club will ruin him for you,” Holly told her.
“No boyfriend,” Audrey replied with a smile.
“Stick with book boyfriends, then!”
After two rounds of margaritas and much discussion, they still hadn’t settled on a book, but it looked like the winner was going to be either a romance about a special forces officer or one about a famous rock star. They’d been through vampires, werewolves, kinky millionaires, stepbrothers (which to Audrey sounded much kinkier), motorcycle club studs, officers of the law, outlaws, cowboys, doctors, lawyers, professional athletes, and shapeshifter aliens—which, again, kinky much? But they told her not to worry; they’d cover the same categories again soon enough.
God only knew how long they would have been hanging out if husbands or significant others hadn’t come to pick them up. The sheriff and Mike, Audrey recognized.
“Those are two of the Bowens. That’s Cole,” Holly explained, gesturing at the guy who walked to Christy. “And that’s Max, Annie’s husband.” The brothers were similar in looks, although Max looked more easygoing that his brother. Both were gorgeous and went straight to kiss their wives.
“If you girls are going to start boozing here on a regular basis, I’m going to start attending the meetings myself,” Max said, glancing at the pool deck full of men. “Packing.”
“You and me both, my friend,” Mike muttered while Cole and Adrian nodded. The girls just waved them off.
“So nice,” one of the old ladies said. “My husband not only wouldn’t bother to guard me; he’d probably pay someone to take me away.”
“And wouldn’t that be great, huh?” Penny interjected.
The old lady’s eyes gleamed. “Totally.”
As everyone burst into laughter, Audrey saw Red flagging her over, so she made her excuses and went to her chef.
“We got a group reservation for a late lunch,” Red said. “I’ll need some help.”
After apologizing to the book club members, Audrey headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t a great culinary asset on the best of days, but with two margaritas in her, she was a downright menace.
By the time they got out of that mess—successfully, thank God—things had calmed down outdoors. With some hours of sunlight to spare, Audrey headed toward the small cottage located between the lakeshore and the inn building. She and her roommate had discussed using it as living quarters. Pudding was supposed to remodel it; she was a crack at DIY. Now it was up to Audrey’s precarious skills to make the space habitable again. So far she’d ripped down layer after layer of wallpaper like there was no tomorrow. Hopefully she’d be ready to put up a new one sometime this century.
She was engrossed with her pet project when she realized Suzy was knocking on the open door. “Boss, there’s a delivery for you at reception. They need your signature.”
She nodded and, cleaning her hands with a rag, left the cottage. She must have been there several hours, because it was getting dark. “What is it?”
“Looks like a present.”
A present?
When she arrived at reception, she saw a delivery guy holding a bento box. Osaka, the name of the best Japanese restaurant in Boston, was on it. He also had a black paper bag. “Audrey Fleming?” the guy asked.
After she signed, he gave her a card, the two-decker bento box and the bag.
“Who is it from?” Suzy asked as Audrey peeked into the bag and saw her quilt. “Do you have a secret admire we don’t know about?”
Audrey didn’t need to open the card to know who it was from, but she did nevertheless.
Thanks for loaning this to me. Enjoy dinner. Con.
Suzy had been wrong. It wasn’t a present. It was a very polite, very expensive brush-off.
* * *
Con had finished tending to the rose bed and he was stretching his muscles, ready to leave, when he heard someone clearing her throat behind him.
“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious,” Audrey said. She was again wrapped in that quilt, her pajamas peeking out from underneath, a basket in her hand.
“My pleasure,” he answered curtly, not sure if she was pissed or not.
“So you know, mister, that was a cop-out. Not what we’d agreed.”
Pissed? “I told you dinner would be on me. It was.”
Her sigh was loud. Okay, she wasn’t pissed, she was annoyed. Disappointed, maybe? Yeah, hopeful thinking much? “Dinner was actually the least important part of it,” she complained.
“What was important, then?” he asked, genuinely confused. ‘Speaking woman’ had never been his forte, but nowadays, what little skill he’d had had gone bye-bye.
“Dressing for the evening. Getting away from this inn. Driving away. Eating somewhere not here. Chitchatting. Watching people.”
“Sounds like all the important bits included being away from here.” Not being with him. He wasn’t sure if he felt angry or relieved about that. Well, he knew. It was both.
She waved it off. “Ignore me. I’m grumpy in the morning. The earlier I wake up, the grumpier I am. Setting the alarm for crazy times to make sure I catch you doesn’t help matters. Thanks for returning the quilt,” she added.
“My pleasure.” He totally lied. He would have preferred to keep it, but as things stood, he was scared he’d end up jerking off in it. There were some limits that shouldn’t be crossed. He had to maintain his self-respect. “You didn’t have to wake up at three to tell me that. What’s in there?” he asked, pointing at the basket.
“Food. Let’s eat,” she said, walking toward the spot where they’d lain last time. “Your grandmother was here for the painting class. She told me you aren’t eating much. She ordered me to feed you. Now, I can’t vouch for any of the contents. I prepared them four hours ago. Do you want to sit on the grass, or do you prefer the dock?”
“You shouldn’t have bothered. I don’t feel like eating.”
“Dock it is, then,” she stated, sitting down on the planks. From the basket appeared sandwiches, cold cuts, and a mozzarella-tomato salad. “I’m not the best of cooks, so I only did the sandwiches. Red prepared the rest.”
He wasn’t hungry, but he found himself eating. Until now, food had tasted as appetizing as cardboard to him. He’d chow down a protein bar whenever he couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. Or to appease his grandma, but he had to force himself to swallow it every time.
“Business is booming, I heard,” he said, picking up a slice of tomato with mozzarella on top. It tasted good. He grabbed a sandwich and took a bite.
“Your grandmother and her friends are solely responsible for it.”
“And the Bottoms Up girls,” he added. At her quizzical stare, he explained, “This is a small town. You can’t have all the red-blooded males disappear and expect no one to notice. Someone got a call, and Mike’s gym emptied faster than it would have for a terrorist threat.”
She laughed that throaty, sexy laugh of hers. “That could also have been the OGs’ doing. I found out the senior self-defense class is before the girls’ class. The OGs might have suggested a stunt like that.”
He pondered for a second. Yeah, it was possible.
“The old ladies went to Florida not long ago, to a senior resort full of fun activities,” she continued. “Now they’re talking about organizing some of those activities here. They asked how I would feel about planting a palm tree. For palm climbing. They said it’s very popular.”
“Who the fuck is going climb a palm? Not the OGs, I hope.”
“Apparently scantily dressed hunks. I’m supposed to hire those too. Or maybe the OGs will find them for me. Not sure on that point.”
No wonder Connor had heard them talking so fondly of the Eternal Sun resort. “Are they behind these? Did they suggest you get them?” he asked, pointing at the Jet Ski and the pedal boats. Those had “OG” written all over them.
“Oh, no. Believe it or not, those were my and my roommate’s idea. When we were planning to open this place, we thought the location was a big plus. We had to capitalize on it. I hoped to have them for the grand opening, but I lacked the funds. Why would the OGs be interested?”
He sighed and lay back, already munching on his second sandwich. “They have this little thing going, a so-called bucket list. Until recently, they’d been checking off items. It drove Mike and Rachel nuts. Now that I’m on watch, I understand why.”
“I didn’t think about that.” She lay back too. “We could maybe put an age limit on rentals.”
He laughed. “Oh, that would only encourage them. So you planned on opening this place with your roommate. Where is she now?”
Audrey grew somber. “She died. In an accidental fire.”
“Sorry.” She was looking at the sky. He could almost swear her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“She loved this place too. Probably from hearing so much about it.”
“Why didn’t you visit before now? Or did you?” He was seldom in Alden, but he believed Greta would have told him if she’d met Audrey’s granddaughter.
“I wanted to come ready to do up the inn. We used to check Alden’s FB page, though. Hilarious.”
“Most of the pics? Taken by the OGs,” he muttered. “Especially the ones out of focus. They have issues with their smartphones.”
“Open,” she said, placing a grape against his lips. “I was informed I had to feed you all the food groups.”
He thought about telling her that tomatoes were technically a fruit, but he kept his trap shut. He liked having her feed him. Too much. “We’re still missing dessert.”
“Desserts aren’t a food group,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Sure they are. The very tip of the pyramid.” Man, look at him. Chitchatting. And having a ball while he was at it.
She snorted. “You’ve been in the desert too long. Your chart isn’t being used anymore.”
“You’re the one who said I was an enslaved elf at the mercy of my master’s good heart for food and basic commodities.”
“I forgot to tell you that if an enslaved elf receives a piece of clothing from his master, he’s freed. Remember the quilt? You’re free, my friend,” she said in a sweet voice that melted his insides.
“I returned it, remember?” He let that slip before he realized what he was implying. He wouldn’t mind being enslaved by her, dependent for basic necessities. Like food. Or sex. Man, he was losing his marbles.
“Open up,” she said, sounding as if she hadn’t heard him. “So you know, this is a big sacrifice for me.” He turned to her in time to watch her take a bite from a chocolate bonbon. Then she extended her hand, offering the rest to him. His brain was still stuck at the sight of her lips dripping chocolate. Before he could react, she ran out of patience. “What? You don’t want it now that I took a bite? Suit yourself.”
As she was pulling back her hand, he grabbed it. He wanted to lick her lips clean, strip her naked, paint her nipples with the melted core of the bonbon, and suck at them until they were pointy and shiny and clean and she was whimpering and begging to be taken.
But he didn’t do any of that. He just brought her hand to his lips and took the bonbon. Then he forced himself to look away, every muscle in his body bulging from the tension. If he let go of his self-control, he was going to lose it.
“You’re high maintenance, buddy. I say you still owe me a dinner. A dinner out, the two of us together, in a restaurant,” she specified, covering all her bases, totally oblivious to his lecherous thoughts. Jeez, if he had his way, she’d be spread-eagled and debauched right here on the dock.
He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his desire. For many months, his cock had been as MIA as his sanity. It would rather shrivel and retreat into himself than come out to play. Now all Audrey had to do was lie beside him and here the motherfucker was, so hard he could barely think. “I’m shitty company. You’d be better off eating alone.”
“Bull. Shit,” she enunciated. “You’re great company.”
“Sure, as long as I don’t flip and become a raging psycho.” If that happened before, after, or while he was fucking her—it was anybody’s guess. He was a ticking bomb, and he would do well to remember it. Spending time with her was a fucking dangerous game. He should stand up and leave. Too bad he couldn’t.
“You aren’t a raging psycho,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Then she reached for him and covered his hand with hers, giving it a light squeeze.
And he thought he couldn’t move before. Ha! Now it was a total impossibility. He was frozen, feeling her touch all over his body like a warm, soft caress. Hopefully she was looking up into the sky so she wouldn’t notice the pole tenting his sweatpants.
Just as fast as her hand had covered his, she released him.
The silence was charged, but for the life of him he couldn’t think what to say to break it. Thank fuck she finally came to the rescue. “I thought you didn’t hear a thing I told you last time about wizards and Muggles.”
What? He struggled to think with all his blood pooling in his crotch. Ah, the elves. “I listened. And I did some research online. Those house elves are truly pitiful creatures. And Hogwarts is a scary place.”
She proceeded to explain about secret chambers and corridors and whatnot.
He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he closed his eyes for a second, only to wake up after four hours, alone and covered by that quilt again.
On his way to Greta’s, he realized he had a message on his cellphone.
Our dates always end with you falling asleep on me. Should I start taking it personally? It was signed with a smiley face.
Yes, she should take it personally. Very personally. With her, he could relax enough to fall asleep. To eat. Heck, even to chitchat and laugh.
He was in so much shit.
Chapter Five
Audrey glanced around the cottage. Okay, time to see how bad she was at
DIY.
She’d emptied her bank accounts. Cashed in her savings and her retirement fund. Maxed her credit cards. Borrowed money from banks and less savory sources. All to open this place. And yet she’d been short on funds. Too bad the cottage hadn’t made the cut of what was a priority, so its fate had been left to her and her skills.
The floors were old but in good condition, so they got to stay. She’d painted the ceilings. The wiring would have to be updated, but she’d get someone to do that later. It would probably involve a lot of conduit and wouldn’t look that nice, but she wasn’t going for nice. Cheap was the key word.
The old layers of wallpaper were all gone, and she’d prepped the walls for a new one. She was mixing the glue when she heard a knock on the door.
“So this is why you need a handyman?” It was Connor, leaning on the doorframe.
She glanced at her watch. A bit after seven o’clock. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it too early for your visits? House elves are rarely visible in the evening.”
He laughed, his body shaking, his arms bulging across his chest. Jeez, the guy was gorgeous. She’d seen him plenty of times, but the impression he made on her was always the same. He took her breath away. His dark blond hair had been getting blonder lately—from the summer sun, she assumed, though she almost never saw him during daylight—and his big brown eyes, which normally were hostile and narrowed, were now simply amused. One look at him and she got tingles even under her fingernails. Jesus, she shouldn’t have touched him the other day. It had just made things worse.
“You need fertilizer and other stuff for the garden, so I ordered it. You insisted that the products be delivered here, and the nursery doesn’t deliver at night.” Thank God, because that was probably the only thing that made him accede to her demands to handle the billing. She was already indebted to him for keeping her garden in top shape; the least she could do was pay for whatever shit was needed. And in no way had she given up on paying him for his labor, either. She was going to talk to Greta and work something out. “Not to mention the grass needed cutting, and that can’t be done at three a.m. now that you have guests.”