The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  “Long.” Dad sighs. “What did you get up this evening?”

  I’m beaming with happiness as I tell Dad about surprising Stefi with the Korean BBQ extravaganza. But, as I chatter away, Dad’s face darkens.

  “What?” I finally ask, frowning.

  Dad scratches his ear, seemingly searching for the right words. “You and Stefi appear to be getting… close.”

  “Yeah. I thought you’d be happy about that. I thought you liked her.”

  “I do,” Dad says slowly. “But Cooper, I’m a little worried about you both. Have you two talked about what will happen after you leave?”

  My heart slams uncomfortably and I close my eyes. It’s a question that’s been lingering at the back corner of my mind for a while now. One I’ve chosen to conveniently ignore.

  The silence goes on for a beat too long, and I know that Dad’s waiting on an answer.

  “No,” I admit.

  “You need to think about these things, Coop.” Dad shakes his head. “Once you leave, Stefi’s life will continue here in Montana, and she’ll need all of her focus to get to where she wants to go. She’s got a bright future, that girl, and senior year will be astronomically important for her. She’s applied to Harvard, Yale and Princeton. Did you know that?”

  I nod slowly. Of course, I know that.

  “She’s been working on her college admissions essay all summer,” I say, objecting to what I think he’s getting at. “We do schoolwork together all the time.”

  “And how’s that been going?” Dad’s tone is knowing, but not unkind.

  I open my mouth to respond, but then screw up my nose. “Yeah... Not great. She’s struggling with getting words down on paper. I’ve been trying to help her.”

  “Coop.” Dad’s face is apologetic, which somehow makes this even worse. “I know you have good intentions with Stefi. But have you ever stopped to think that, in your effort to help her, you might be distracting her instead?”

  My stomach churns. For so long, I’ve been trying not to think about what will happen between Stefi and I when the summer is over. But, I will have to face it sometime. And Dad's words make me wonder — we set up our original agreement to help each other out, but now that Stefi’s been able to step outside of her comfort zone, am I still helping? Or am I holding her back?

  And, if I’ve been a distraction to her this summer, how could I possibly ask her to be with me after summer ends? Dating while 1200 miles apart is surely the last thing she needs. Senior year is too important for Stefi. I could never do that to her.

  29

  Cooper

  “Wakey, wakey,” a singsong voice cuts through my troubled dreams.

  I shift groggily, disoriented. I’m exhausted, sleep tugging at my senses to pull me back under. I feel like I barely slept after my conversation with Dad last night.

  “Wake up,” the voice says again. Stefi has the day off, so it can’t be her. It must be Dad. But what could he possibly want so early in the morning?

  “Urgh,” I groan, pulling my pillow over my head. “Too early.”

  “Come on, little bro, get up. It’s, like, 11.”

  I sit up in bed with a start. “Brody.”

  I blink a couple of times, hardly believing what I’m seeing. My older brother is here, at Legacy Inn, resting casually against my door frame. He’s dressed in pristine tennis whites, his hair perfectly coiffed. His yellow eyes are piercing, alert, and he smirks at me as he spoons low-fat vanilla yogurt into his mouth.

  A pang of dread twists my stomach. I did not miss him.

  “Rise and shine.” His white teeth gleam in the sunlight streaming through my window. I wonder for a moment whether I’m still dreaming.

  “What’re you doing here?” I rub my eyes, hard. As I pull my hand away, a familiar twitch jolts through my right eye.

  “I’m here to see you, little bro.” Brody flops on the bed next to me. “And our dearest father, of course.”

  I grimace. Historically, Brody’s relationship with Dad has been as strained as mine. I narrow my eyes skeptically. “You’re telling me that you came to Montana to see Dad voluntarily, instead of making the most of your last summer in LA before college?”

  Brody laughs and raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You got me. I may have felt a teensy bit bad about why you’re in exile. So, I thought I’d drop by. I flew in early this morning. There’s an FBO in Bozeman, so it was easy enough to take the jet. Arnold picked me up there.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. Typical Brody — we haven’t said two words to each other since the party disaster, and now, here he is, with absolutely zero warning.

  “You couldn’t have felt that bad,” I say stiffly. “I haven’t heard from you all summer.”

  “Well.” Brody lazily turns his yellow eyes on me, like our lack of a communication was just a minor inconvenience that he’d played no part in. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “I guess,” I concede, grudgingly. I suppose it was nice of him to think of me. “Does Dad know that you’re here?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care.” Brody waves a dismissive hand, and then yanks the covers off of me. “Hurry up and get dressed, little bro. I’ve reserved the tennis courts for the morning so we can get a workout in.”

  “Don't you mean that you’ve reserved a tennis court?”

  “Don’t be stupid. I booked all of them.” He laughs indulgently and crosses the room, glancing back at me arrogantly before exiting.

  My stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot as I fall back on my bed. This time, I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. But I have to squeeze them shut when my right eye starts to twitch.

  I’d been blissfully ignorant all summer here at Legacy Inn, but Brody’s arrival is a rather abrupt reminder of reality.

  30

  Cooper

  Sweat pours down my face and I hurriedly wipe it away. Brody has always had this somewhat twisted desire to workout, hard, during the hottest months of the summer. And so, here we are, on a blistering early-August afternoon, playing a fiercely energetic game of tennis on a court that could fry an egg in under a minute.

  I pull my baseball cap lower and squint across the net.

  Brody brushes a bead of sweat from the bridge of his nose and then lines up. He bounces the ball before arcing it up and slamming the center of his racquet into the ball. The entire weight of his body propels the rocket that zips across the net and past my ear. I don’t have time to blink, let alone react.

  “Ace! Fifteen — love,” he crows, pumping his fist.

  We’ve been at this for two hours. Brody won the first set and I won the second. The score is currently at five games each in the third, and I’m channeling every ounce of energy into this final set, privately glad that he didn’t suggest playing a full five-set game. All that home cooking and lazing around in the penthouse recently has taken a toll on my fitness levels.

  But, I’m determined not to let him beat me. As brothers, we’ve always been competitive, but this feels like something else. This set matters to me more than ever.

  Like I have something to prove.

  Brody serves up another rocket, but I’m ready this time. I hit it back over the net easily, and a bloom of pride rises in my chest. We volley a bit longer until Brody hits a return that’s out, and we’re back on even footing.

  A few plays later, I break his serve and everything is on the line. All I have to do is win my next service game, and the match is mine.

  We take a water break and I guzzle a full bottle and a half of ice water from Brody’s cooler. It always seemed backwards to me that Brody cares so much about working out in hot weather but allows himself the indulgence of cool refreshments.

  I screw the cap on the bottle and notice Brody’s staring at me. His expression is neutral, but I see the arc of his eyebrow, the whitened knuckles gripping his water bottle. He’s up to something.

  “So, how was your summer of exile?” he asks innocently. �
��You missed a few ragers. Neil Sanderson threw the mother of all parties at his Malibu beach house.”

  He’s trying to get in my head, but I can’t quite figure out his angle. I decide to play it cool.

  I shrug, nonchalant. “I’m over the party scene.” Then, I try to change the subject away from wherever Brody is taking this. “I saw Robbie a few weeks ago. He was playing near here.”

  Brody smirks and picks up his racquet. I grab mine, too, and we resume our places on the court.

  “He mentioned that he saw you,” he calls from across the net. I bounce the ball to serve. “He said you were with a girl. Apparently, she was pretty hot.”

  His comment catches me by surprise and I stumble as I move to serve. Instead of slamming the ball, I lob it clumsily over the net. Brody slices it neatly back, right into the far corner of the court. I don’t reach it in time.

  “Love — 15,” he cheers before continuing in his normal, cocky tone. “So? Who was she? Did you pick up a local for the summer or something?”

  His words get under my skin and I feel flustered. I try to push through and I line the ball up to serve.

  I hit the net. Twice.

  Brody’s point.

  He smirks from his side of the court, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised.

  “It’s not like that,” I say through gritted teeth.

  My adrenaline is spiking and I slam a new ball at him. Hard.

  But Brody just laughs, jumps out of the way and returns it seamlessly. “Easy there, I’m just asking!”

  “Well, don’t.” I whack the ball again.

  Brody’s eyes widen slightly. His expression becomes a knowing sneer. “You LIKE her.”

  “What?” I demand. I’m so caught off guard that the ball whizzes past my head again. Another point to Brody.

  I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him knowing anything about Stefi or how I feel about her. What we have is special and he’ll only diminish it. Try to make our relationship seem stupid or something. Like he always does.

  “Look at you, little Coop. Picked up a Montana local for the summer, then falling for her. How adorable.” He’s openly jeering at me now. “Love — forty, by the way. Break point.”

  I kick my tennis shoe against my racquet, my blood heating up. “Shut up, Brody.”

  “Relaxxxx,” he purrs. “Come on, we both know that you’re not actually serious about her. I probably would’ve done the same thing. A summer distraction was a good thing for you. Just what you needed before you come back to the big leagues.”

  I grit my teeth and whack the ball again, mildly wishing that I could whack something else. “It’s not like that.”

  “Of course it is, and there’s no shame in that.” Brody’s mouth stretches into a wide, cat-like smile, his white teeth almost blinding. “Lila was asking about you recently, you know.”

  Lila? Please.

  That was a total non-starter, we were over before we began. I haven’t heard from her all summer — it was like the moment I stepped on the plane for Montana, she disappeared into thin air. The first I heard from her was a couple of days ago, when she texted to say that she missed me before promptly asking if I could get her tickets to a Vogue fashion show event my mom’s company was sponsoring. I hadn’t even bothered responding.

  “I don’t care about Lila, we never really dated. And the second I wasn’t useful to her, she apparently lost interest.”

  Brody laughs, a grating, false sound. “Get real, little brother. That’s how our world works. We’re held together by who we know, and what we can do for one another. You’ve been out of the game for too long.”

  “I don’t care about the game!” I holler, surprising us both. We Monroes don’t do public outbursts, but there is so much fury coursing my body that I can’t help it. Brody rolls his eyes and hits the ball but I don’t even bother trying to return it. Instead, I take a deep, calming breath, and attempt to bring my voice to a reasonable level. “Speaking of which, you win that one. Six all.”

  Brody’s perfectly manicured eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. “Wow, Coop. This summer in prison has gotten to you. Don’t worry, you’ll soon be back where you belong.”

  Belong. The word bothers me.

  I never felt like I truly belonged with my friends at home in LA. But I don’t belong in Montana either... not really. It’s not like I could live with Dad — this summer is the longest time we’ve spent together in years.

  And even if I could stay here in Montana, would anyone really want me here? Stefi has the most important year of her life ahead of her, and I’d never forgive myself if I got in the way of that.

  Dad’s right. I need to think about this, about us. I need to make sure I’m putting Stefi’s future before my own feelings. Even if it means letting her go.

  She deserves the best. And maybe the best isn’t me.

  I lose the next game, and Brody goes on to win the match.

  31

  Stefi

  I run a brush through my hair and then tuck the loose strands behind my ears. I can’t keep the excited smile from my lips. I’m going back to the penthouse.

  I’ve just enjoyed two wonderful days off of work. The first day, Anaya and I spent the entire morning and afternoon at the beach. And yesterday, my parents dropped by for a surprise visit, bringing me the SAT prep books I’d asked for weeks ago. Apparently, they hadn’t had time to come before. When they’d asked how my studies were going, I’d smiled at them feebly, trying steadfastly to ignore the gnawing guilt in my stomach.

  I have so much work to catch up on when I finally finish this essay. The essay I still haven’t written.

  But, even though I had fun on my days off, I found myself itching to get back to the penthouse. Back to Cooper.

  I’ve missed seeing him. A lot.

  I’m aware that we don’t have much time left. Though I still have no idea what will happen after the summer, I’m determined to make the most of every minute with him.

  I pull absentmindedly on the ends of my hair, satisfied with keeping it down. Cooper once said that he likes when I wear my hair long and loose. And I like how it feels when he runs his fingers through it.

  I shiver, excited to see him, hug him, kiss him.

  After quickly applying some mascara and lip gloss, I’m ready to go. I hope that he’s awake. These days, by the time I arrive at work, he’s already up. Sometimes he’s even brewed coffee for us — now that he knows how to work the machine.

  I chuckle at the memory of my first day working in the penthouse, when I taught Cooper how to use the coffee machine. Part of him has changed this summer. He seems more confident now, more sure of who he is. And proud of it.

  After spending this time with Cooper, I feel more confident, too.

  I love that we’ve made each other better.

  I jog to the penthouse and enter the lobby, waving at the security guard. It’s an older man today, one I don’t know. I dash into the elevator and select the penthouse floor, my heart racing. By the time I’m climbing the stairs in the penthouse, I’m practically vibrating with happiness.

  And there he is.

  Cooper stands with his back to me in the open French doors leading to the rooftop patio. He’s basking in the morning sunshine, shirtless — as usual — and wearing a pair of black sweatpants. His hair is sticking up in every direction.

  I run up behind him and wrap my arms around his warm torso, snuggling my face into his bare back. He smells like pine body soap, a new scent.

  “Agh!” He practically jumps out of his skin.

  I laugh, hugging him tight. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just missed you.”

  He laughs a throaty laugh and spins around to face me.

  The world lurches sideways.

  I’m staring into the face of a boy who looks exactly like Cooper.

  But it isn’t Cooper.

  I squeak and jump backwards, pinning my arms by my sides.

  The b
oy laughs and his yellow eyes flash. “Seems we’ve scared each other. I’m—”

  “Brody,” I whisper.

  “In the flesh.” He grins, pleased. “I assume that Cooper has told you all about me?”

  I nod, shifting from foot to foot. I try to avoid Brody’s unsettling gaze, but I can’t help but sneak a couple glances his way. At first sight, Brody Monroe looks identical to his little brother — save for the eyes. But the more I look at him, the more differences I see between them. Brody’s grin is predatory where Cooper’s is cheeky. His arched eyebrows are arrogant where Cooper’s are playful. His tone is cool and chilly where Cooper’s is warm as sunshine.

  Brody scans me up and down, like he’s casually assessing my value. “So, you’re my little brother’s latest.”

  It isn’t a question, and that puts me off all the more. “Excuse me?”

  “His summer fling.”

  Brody’s words are cutting, designed to put me in my place. My eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape, but finding none.

  “We’ve been seeing each other, yes.” I struggle to keep my voice even.

  “Seeing each other,” Brody repeats, his eyes flickering upward. “Typical Cooper. Not putting a label on anything.”

  I frown and run the pad of my thumb absentmindedly over my fingernails. I think I know what Brody’s getting at, but Cooper’s not a player, I’m sure of it. Plus, knowing what Cooper’s told me about Brody this summer, I’m hesitant to believe his version of the story in the first place.

  I set my chin and level a firm gaze at Brody. “Cooper’s a great person. I’ve loved getting to know him this summer.”

  Brody laughs again. “Oh! He’s pulled out all the stops, has he? Turned on the charm?”