Audrey’s Inn

by Aycart, Elle

  “That’s great, man. She was lucky.”

  Very lucky. In Massachusetts and in Texas. Be that as it may, she had pled guilty to identity theft. Once Audrey Fleming had been declared dead and her will read, it’d turned out that Nicky was the sole beneficiary anyway. That, of course, didn’t exempt her from being guilty of felonies, but it had made a world of difference to Nicky’s state of mind.

  Audrey’s Inn, to Con’s surprise, hadn’t really belonged to Audrey, who several days before the kidnapping, had started processing its donation to the town. She’d have lost tons of money on the transaction, as the donation proposal only asked for the town to take on her bank loans, but she’d insisted it was only right. After the whole debacle and once the police started investigating, Adrian had told the authorities that the inn belonged to the town, which technically was true, and they had turned a blind eye. Several days ago, while in Texas, Nicky had received a call from the mayor, telling her the town had decided to reverse the donation, if she was willing to take on the bank loans again. Nicky had happily agreed, and they were going to sign the papers this afternoon.

  The OGs’ doing, probably. Audrey’s Inn was very rentable, and the mayor wasn’t one to let a good deal pass by.

  “Hello, strangers,” he heard, taking him out of his reverie.

  Adrian and Rachel came their way. After hugging him, Rachel went to Nicky and Adrian stayed with Mike and Con.

  “All good?” Adrian asked, shaking Con’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Con said, slapping him on the back. Then he turned to Mike. “He’s the main reason why Nicky is on probation and not behind bars.”

  Adrian shrugged. “I just spoke with a few people who owed me favors. It helped that the Feds have been salivating after Andy Trat and his men for a long time.”

  “You saved my woman. Now I’m indebted to you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

  Adrian had not only gotten the authorities to offer her the deal that had kept her out of jail, but Connor also had proof that Adrian had bent the truth, declaring under oath he knew who Nicky was and that she had been working with him to get the Trat men.

  He must have gotten some shit for that, but he hadn’t said anything. Mike kept insisting Rachel was rubbing off on Adrian, and he was right.

  “Connor, what is this?” Rachel hollered, lifting Nicky’s hand—the one with the engagement ring.

  “We’re getting married.” With the depositions and statements to the police, it had taken this long to go shopping with her for a ring. “And we’re having a baby.”

  The OGs cheered and clapped. Everybody congratulated them, even the OGs, who had known for a whole month and obviously kept their mouths shut.

  Greta produced a bottle of champagne and a big Tupperware bowl from the picnic basket. “The champagne was for the arrival of Audrey’s ashes, but I’m sure neither she nor her grandma would begrudge us using it to celebrate this great news too.” Then she turned to the tombstone. “We have a surprise for you both, dear Audreys. We brought you pudding. I’m sure it’s not half as good as the ones you made, but we did check a couple of YouTube tutorials and your friend Nicky explained over the phone what she remembered of the recipe.”

  So that was what that hourlong conversation between the OGs and Nicky several days ago had been all about. Shredded chicken pudding, if he recalled correctly. Kudos to the grannies, they kept quiet about the contents of the pudding, so no one was alarmed. They all sat down—the OGs on their portable chairs, the rest on a blanket on the ground.

  “How did he propose?” Greta asked. “I hope it was romantic.”

  Con and Nicky looked at each other and smiled. He loved the complicity. “It was very romantic,” she answered. “Right in our line.” Then she diverted their attention. “We bought the ring in Texas. By the way, Matt sends his regards.”

  “Your bra?” Wilma asked.

  “Yes, my bra,” she replied, chuckling.

  All and all, everybody had taken quite well to finding out that Audrey wasn’t Audrey. Con’s father hadn’t been too thrilled, much less since she had a rap sheet. Tough shit. Con didn’t give a flying flip.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Wilma said, rummaging in her purse and producing the pieces of a shattered cell phone. “The dirty old man inside my phone is dead. The new cell that Rachel got me is normal, so I thought we should give him a proper burial.”

  Mike threw a warning stare at Rachel.

  “What?” she mouthed and then whispered. “Don’t worry. I won’t let my little brother do any sexting with Wilma’s new cell.”

  If the OGs heard her, they ignored her words.

  “He was appalling, but I’ll miss Alfred,” Wilma sighed.

  “I’ll miss him too,” Rebecca added. “He was so sneaky. He’d attack whenever you least expected it.”

  “Grandma…” Mike started.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Rachel said. “I already tried to explain to them the dirty old man inside their cell was a computer algorithm, but it didn’t stick.”

  “I think Wilma is right. Let’s bury him,” Greta seconded. “It’s only fair.”

  They buried the damn thing, and the OGs even gave a eulogy, after which everyone finished the champagne and ate the weird pudding the grannies had brought. Nicky had been right; it wasn’t half bad. Con rested his head on Nicky’s lap and closed his eyes while she ran her fingers through his hair. He felt so damn happy, so frigging content. He turned his head and kissed her stomach. She wasn’t showing yet, but he’d already been talking to their baby.

  He’d started IRP, a therapy for his PTSD nightmares, hoping he’d become less of a frigging menace. He’d had many nightmares since the kidnapping, he was sure, but he didn’t remember much because he’d slept through them. There had been one episode when he hadn’t, though. He’d been back in that hellhole, being flayed. He’d woken up screaming, ready to pounce on someone, his body on fire from the pain, already sending his brain into overdrive. It had taken some moments for him to realize he wasn’t dreaming anymore. By then Nicky had been standing by the bed, holding a tray.

  “Are you okay?” he’d asked. “Did I do something to you?”

  She’d shaken her head, and relief had flooded him.

  “What are you doing there with the tray? Did you have to use it again?”

  She’d cocked her head, this time giving him attitude. “No, but I’ll bash your face in without hesitation if you dare run out on me again because of this.”

  His heart had still been pounding, and he’d been short of breath, but he’d broken into chuckles. He’d walked to her and kissed her. “I already told you. Not going anywhere, baby girl.”

  She’d nodded and thrown herself into his arms.

  The tray was still in their room, though. As a warning for him not to run away, she’d said. He didn’t need the warning. He couldn’t have walked away from her even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t. He needed her to fucking breathe. Nothing made sense without her. He’d rather die than leave her.

  Suddenly there was a beep from a cell. Mike, Con, Rachel, and Adrian reached for their phones.

  Nicky broke into giggles. “You’re all suffering from nomophobia.”

  “What’s that?” Rachel asked.

  “‘Nomo’ comes from ‘no mobile phone,’ plus phobia. Fear of being without a cell. Of not being in touch.” At everyone’s stunned face, she shrugged. “Audrey had lots of phobias—not this one, but many. I’m an expert.”

  Mike snorted. “Ha. Fear of the OGs getting into trouble, that’s what we have.”

  “No OGphobia, then,” Rachel added, chuckling.

  Probably. Con was getting it too, because nowadays he was always packing, like Mike said.

  “Wait,” Mike said, “the message is from Kyra.”

  Suddenly Sam came running toward then, waving and happily squeaking. Kyra was walking behind her, smiling.

  “What the heck?” Mike said, getting up to receive his wife and
daughter. “You’re supposed to be on tour.” He lifted his daughter in his arms and then hugged Kyra. “What are you doing here? I was going to fly out to you in two days.”

  “We had an unexpected cancellation. Sam and I missed you, so here we are.”

  Mike looked ecstatic. “Fantastic. Today there’s fireworks in honor of Alden’s founding. You know what that means, Sam?”

  The girl lifted her arms in victory. “Yay! We’ll be setting off fireworks with Grandpa Dan!”

  Mike and his girls sat down, and the picnic continued until the picnic basket was empty.

  When the OGs suggested going back to town, everyone assented. They gathered the chairs, the basket, and the blanket, and after saying goodbye to Audreys one and two, they walked to the cemetery front gate, where their rides were parked. The OGmobile was there too.

  Nicky was walking toward Con’s car when Wilma handed her a helmet. “You drive,” she said.

  Nicky looked conflicted. “I don’t think it’s my place—”

  “Nonsense,” Greta interrupted, pushing her toward the OGmobile. “You deserve that place. Right, Rebecca?”

  Mike’s grandma nodded.

  Nicky smiled, trying to hide her tears and not succeeding. Once they were all wearing helmets and glasses and were on the motorcycle, Wilma lifted her hand. “I’ve got an idea.” There was a man leaving the cemetery and she hollered to him. “Let’s get a picture. All of us.”

  “The OGs and the future OGs together?” Rachel asked, looking excited.

  The grannies nodded. “Such a great idea,” Greta said, handing her cell to the man. “Could you please take a picture of us?”

  The OGmobile hardly seated four, and they were ten. It didn’t matter. Sam climbed on top of her great-grandma. Connor stood by Nicky. Adrian and Rachel stood by Wilma. Mike and Kyra hugged behind the sidecar.

  “Okay, guys,” Greta said. “You know what you need to do. One… two… three!”

  And they all yelled, “LOLOOOO!”

  * * *

  “It’s good to be back home,” Nicky said, leaning on Con’s chest and looking at the night sky, illuminated by fireworks. They were on the terrace, laying in a hammock, Nicky between Con’s legs.

  Connor kissed her on her shoulder, both his hands on her tummy. “So this is home, not Texas?”

  She nodded. Surprisingly enough, this town felt more like home to her than Texas. Except for Matt, there was nothing in Houston but her past. Alden was her future. She placed her hands over Con’s. “Boy or girl?”

  “What?”

  “Our baby. What do you prefer, boy or girl?”

  “Don’t care. I’ll be happy either way.”

  Connor had been amazing. A trooper. Nothing had fazed him. He’d gone to the cops with her, even tried to shift the blame onto himself. And about the baby—she still couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted Connor wanted it. He was already talking to it, bonding with it. He was going to be a phenomenal dad.

  “You?” he asked. “Any preferences?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. I plan on having a lot of kids, so I’m pretty sure I’ll get a potpourri.”

  His chuckle reverberated through her body. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

  “Of course, baby. Are you opposed?”

  “No,” he whispered against her ear. “We’ll have as many kids as you want. I’d rather stay in the single digits, though.”

  She laughed. She’d been goading him, but she’d grown up in a family that disintegrated all too soon. If it weren’t for Matt, she’d have been completely alone. She wanted a big family. It was good to know Con felt the same way.

  They watched the fireworks in silence for a while until Con spoke again, “What do you want to do now that everything has been cleared up? Running this place was Audrey’s dream. You bought it because of her, but you don’t have to run it forever.”

  “I like it here, Con. I want to stay.” She turned her head and studied his face. “You don’t want to stay?” Maybe he would prefer to start fresh somewhere where no one knew him. Sooner or later, people would see his back.

  “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

  “Great. Alden then. At the inn. I’m going to need someone to help me run it. A gardener, a handyman, someone to run outdoor activities.”

  “So, a house elf,” he stated.

  “Nah, I’m very particular about my house elf. I’d rather keep him subjugated in my bed.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her in his arms. “You got it, baby girl.”

  About the Author

  After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances.

  Keep in touch with Elle by visiting her at

  elleaycart.blogspot.com

  Also by Elle Aycart

  The Bowen Series:

  More than Meets the Ink

  Heavy Issues

  Inked Ever After

  To the Max

  Heavy Secrets

  Jacked Up

  Hard Limits

  The OGs Series:

  Deep Down

  Grease Babe

  Audrey’s Inn

  Doomsday Preppers:

  Starting Point

  Sky’s the Limit