The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  Delia spins, an enormous smile on her face. “It’s a lovely party, isn’t it?”

  “I think some wires were crossed.”

  “How so, my dear?” Delia fiddles with her cowboy hat and waves distractedly at people across the room.

  “I was told I would be the only student photographer at the Inn this summer.”

  Delia nods her head and focuses on me, grabbing my hand. “Ah yes. We’ve been busy with the Welcome Bash. Your friend was a last-minute hire. I bet you’re excited to have him here!”

  Friend?

  “He called a few days ago,” Delia says, either not noticing or completely ignoring the disappointed expression on my face. “And I thought, wouldn’t that just be perfect? We’ve been wanting to take new photos of the Inn, and this way you don’t have the burden of doing it all yourself.”

  I stand straight and force a smile. “It’s definitely not a burden for me. I plan to become a photographer once I’m finished high school. This is exactly the sort of task I—”

  “You sound so professional already!” Delia laughs. “There’s time for work when you’re older. When you’re an adult.”

  “But—”

  Delia gestures wildly across the room, almost swatting some unsuspecting staff member in the face. “You should be having fun! Work, yes, but we don’t want you miserable while you’re here. The Inn is a place to work, but it’s also a place to play.”

  It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, and as always, the words bother me. People are always telling me that — I’m young, I should have fun. But there’s no time for that, not when I have a prime opportunity on my hands. I can have fun once I’m successful.

  Delia then stands straight, looking around. “And look at that, fate intervenes once again!”

  To my horror, she grabs Jonathan’s wrist as he walks through the crowd. He and one of the Edendale students — Bree, I believe — are cutting across the room with plates piled high with food.

  Delia grabs the plate from Jonathan and hands it to Bree. Grief flitters across his face as he watches his beloved food disappear.

  “I bet you’re excited to get to work with a friend from school,” Delia says. “And I want you both to enjoy yourselves, to really let loose. This is a night of celebration. So dance together and have fun!”

  Delia pushes us together and I raise my hands to stop us bumping into each other. In one seamless movement, Jonathan grabs my hands and starts doing an awkward jig. Not bothering to look at the car accident she just caused, Delia floats away, carrying Bree off to places unknown.

  “Did you hear that? She said the ‘F’ word.” Jonathan leans in. “Fun. Are queens even allowed to have fun?”

  Jonathan is surprisingly light on his feet, but I’m no slouch. I match him step for step. “You dance well,” I say. “Must be hard to balance with your extremely big head.”

  Without warning, Jonathan spins me, and just before I crash into the couple dancing next to us, he pulls me back into his arms. “Would you look at that? I saved you again.”

  I glare as he takes my other hand. There’s an insane friction between our palms, threatening to push us far apart as soon as the song is over.

  “Always the hero,” I say sarcastically. “So, I have a question I’m just dying to ask.”

  “Look, if you’re asking me out—”

  “No,” I say immediately. “Never that.”

  “Too bad. In the right light, you’re almost cute.”

  I keep my expression neutral. “I’m just wondering how it feels to not be attached to a soccer ball? Disorienting? Lonely, perhaps?”

  I see what I think is a hint of a smile, but before his face breaks, he dips me. He drops me so low to the ground it feels like I’m falling. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the Queen feels threatened. Her throne of photography is being challenged by a humble commoner.”

  I snort. It’s decidedly unfeminine.

  Not that I care how feminine Jonathan thinks I am.

  "You’re not humble, golden boy,” I snap. “And threatened? By you? You wouldn’t last a day working as my assistant.”

  Jonathan spins me again. This time, he sends me careening into the food table —

  And then pulls me back just before I take flight over the appetizers.

  “Didn’t think a Queen would need an assistant,” he says.

  I’m close to him now, one of my hands resting on his surprisingly strong shoulder. “Assistants are the best part about being a queen,” I say. “Do you know what the second-best part is?”

  His hand slides over my hip and onto my lower back. “What’s that?”

  “When your assistant can’t keep up, you get to take their head.” I stare deep into his eyes. “But don’t worry. I’ll let you live.”

  The music slows and he pulls me close. Our footsteps mirror each other. We’re surprisingly in sync for two people who hate each other so much.

  “Don’t take it easy on me, Your Majesty.” His voice is low. “I think you’ll find I’m quite the competitor.”

  We stare into each other’s eyes, both refusing to look away as the world stops around us.

  Whoever breaks first, loses.

  And there’s no way I’m letting Jonathan break me.

  13

  Kiara

  There’s a loud shatter as someone accidentally drops a plate.

  Jonathan and I look towards the crashing at the same moment.

  He releases me, and without a second glance, heads towards the tables where the Edendale students are devouring appys. “See you around.”

  Everyone mingles, enjoying themselves. Music pumps through the speakers, people dance and laugh. I stand silently in the middle of the floor, still shaking off whatever just happened with Jonathan.

  What was that crazy feeling?

  Did he feel it too?

  No. Couldn’t be anything. Just hunger, probably.

  I meander to the food table and load a plate with Chef Fernando’s mac and cheese bites, some veggies, and a piece of lasagna before heading to an almost-empty table. Almost empty, except for Bree.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “It’s a free country,” Bree says, not unkindly.

  I take a seat and attack my lasagna with the ferocity of a starving coyote. I’m shoving the pasta in my mouth so fast that I’m probably wearing tomato sauce as lipstick, but I don’t care.

  “Kiara, right?” Bree asks, looking decidedly bored. “What do you think of the Inn so far?”

  I shrug, wiping my face with a napkin. “Cabin’s cute, bugs aren’t bad, Delia’s a character.”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Bree says, chuckling. She looks out over the room, her next words an afterthought. “I don’t know where my parents found her, but she’s sure made a difference. They don’t talk about it much, but we were struggling for a bit before she came along.”

  Bree’s parents own the Inn. From what I’ve heard, they’re flashy people, often on the road promoting the Inn or one of their other businesses.

  Bree and I don’t talk much at school. While I’m usually hanging out with the artsy kids, Bree floats from group to group, getting along with everyone. With her rose-gold hair and bright blue eyes, she’s effortlessly beautiful. And she’s got a wild streak — I’ve heard she’s skipped school almost as much as she’s attended — but she’s able to charm her way into or out of most situations pretty easily.

  Now, she seems distracted, looking around the room indignantly. We exchange a couple more words and then fall into a comfortable silence, which suits me as I’m too busy sulking.

  This job was everything to me, the perfect summer opportunity to build up my portfolio for next year. And now, I just feel trapped and hopeless, thanks to fricking Jonathan.

  Even a mountain of cheesy pasta can’t improve my mood. I capture another few shots of the group having a good time, then leave.

  I follow the path back towards the cabins, my distress transfor
ming into stubborn determination. So Jonathan and I will both be photographers this summer. That doesn’t mean we have to work closely together. If anything, it’s an opportunity to shine, to showcase my skills compared to someone who has no clue what he’s doing. Maybe this will push me to work harder, to take the best possible photos here at the Inn.

  It’s pitch black when I reach our little cabin community. The lights from the gravel path cast shadows across the area, and the cabin windows are dark. The hulking, black shapes look haunted in the darkness. Anything could be hiding here.

  I shiver, then immediately chide myself for playing on childhood fears of the dark.

  Still…

  They are creepy.

  I climb the steps to my cabin and the wood creaks under my foot.

  Suddenly, something large scurries out from around the corner of my cabin.

  I shriek.

  It’s a bear!

  No.

  It’s a…

  It’s a…

  It’s a Jonathan.

  I swear so loud that people on the other side of the state cover their ears.

  Of course he’s here. Why couldn’t I have a little time to myself? A little time away from him?

  Jonathan makes a face and rubs his ear. “Way to deafen the entire Inn, Garcia.”

  I’m both relieved and angry that he’s not a bear. Relieved, because of obvious reasons. Angry, because it would’ve been better to be eaten by a bear than scared by Jonathan.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Well, if someone wasn’t so busy sneaking around our cabins at night, I wouldn’t need to deafen anyone. What’re you doing anyway? Checking to make sure your precious soccer jersey isn’t being ruined by the fresh mountain air?”

  Jonathan rolls his eyes so dramatically that I can see the move through the darkness.

  “It’s not really any of your business, is it?” He hops up the steps to his cabin, located next to mine. Of course. Delia’s done an excellent job throwing Jonathan into my life at every opportunity.

  His voice is mocking. “So we get to be photo buddies this summer. Should be fun. Maybe I can show you a thing or two?”

  Is he joking? My anger flares up again as I face him head on.

  “Listen here, golden boy. I am here for one reason and one reason only. I’m building up my portfolio so I can get out of that stinking pile of a town as soon as we graduate next year. I need this job for my future and nothing will distract me from that. Including your snide remarks, immature comments, and stupid questions.”

  I climb the steps to my cabin, finishing with: “Stay out of my way this summer, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  With that, I turn on my heel and slam the door shut behind me.

  My heart is racing and I’m out of breath. He may have hurt me long ago, but I won’t let him get to me now.

  Not again.

  14

  Jonathan

  Kiara the Queen slams the door, retreating to her throne room.

  Someone’s having a bad day.

  Unbeknownst to Kiara, I came back to my cabin to put my camera away after devouring about a thousand mac and cheese bites. I also wanted some fresh air after the intense moment we shared when dancing. Of course, Delia would pick me out in a crowd to throw us together.

  Kiara has this unnerving way of seeing through me, like she knows something about me that I don’t even know myself. During the dance, I wanted her to feel as uncomfortable as she makes me feel. I taunted her. Teased her. Spun her dangerously close to both people and food. But she gave everything back and more; completely unshakeable.

  Then our eyes met and something indescribable shot through me.

  I brush off the memory. When I got back here, I was going to crawl under her cabin to grab the soccer ball when I noticed that one window was slightly open. I shut it from the outside to keep the bugs out, and that’s when her shriek almost killed me.

  If I’d known it was her cabin, I would’ve opened the window wider.

  Our rivalry goes too far back, the roots are too deep, for me not to mess with her a little.

  I smile and follow the path back towards the Inn. It’s not surprising that Kiara’s only here to make progress towards her future. She’s always had a one-track mind.

  And it’s paid off, hasn’t it? She’s a talented photographer, her skills are miles ahead of what I could ever hope to accomplish. I told her I was a great competitor, but deep down I know that next to her, I’ll look like a complete fraud.

  “Can I do this?” I ask the sky for what feels like the millionth time today. And for the millionth time, the sky doesn’t have an answer.

  The lights from the Inn get closer, and the happy chatter and laughter get louder. This is what I want. Working here at the Inn this summer feels right. But whether I have the skills and ability to be a photographer? To be determined.

  Should I give up? Maybe I should just go to Momentum — scratch this whole photography thing and go back to soccer.

  It isn’t too late. I can hop on a bus tonight and get to Momentum by midday tomorrow. I can live the life my parents have so carefully planned out for me. I called the camp a couple of days ago to let them know I wouldn’t be coming. They sounded surprised. Surely they’d take me if I showed up just a day late?

  I kick a stone and watch it bounce into the darkness. That is what everyone wants and expects of me. My parents and closest friends think I’m already there. I can go back to being “Star Midfielder” and “MVP”. The boy who’s the “best” at everything. The one everyone is counting on to go to a big college on a full-ride soccer scholarship.

  Funny enough, Kiara might be the only person in my life without these expectations of me. My family and friends, even strangers in the street, all expect the best of me. Kiara is the one person who doesn’t. If anything, she blatantly believes I can’t do it. She’s set the bar so low, it’s lying on the ground.

  I blow out a puff of air, like I’ve been holding my breath for far too long. An odd sense of freedom and relaxation sweeps through me as I consider staying here.

  The music is loud, and people are laughing on the balcony above me.

  I close my eyes and smile. It feels like my first genuine smile in a very long time.

  If I’m not the best here, will anyone care?

  15

  Kiara

  Warm sunlight streams through the windows and the birds chirp outside. This is what it must feel like to be a princess in a fairy tale. I stretch out in my bed, pleasantly surprised by the good night’s sleep.

  This princess has to roll up her sleeves and get to work.

  I hop out of bed and throw on my jean shorts and a top. I tie my wavy hair into a messy bun, pulling out a few strands to frame my face in an attempt to look “classy”. After applying copious amounts of sunscreen and bug spray, I stroll over to the Inn for breakfast.

  The guests arrive today, with the first expected in just a few minutes.

  I find my way to the event room, which is buzzing with energy. Delia and Vin stand in the midst of the chaos. Delia is animatedly tapping her clipboard and adjusting her cowboy hat while Vin gestures about the room.

  I’m about to ask where I can get breakfast when I spot a few staffers filing out of a door at the far end of the room. Dodging the chairs and tables set up all around, I head over and find a sign labeled “Staff Room”.

  A smile crosses my face as I enter. Big windows fill one wall of the staff room and there are several tables and chairs set up for meals. In one corner, a couple of old couches and shelves with various books and board games invite people to sit back and relax. “Only on their breaks, of course!” I imagine in Delia’s voice.

  “Good morning!” Fernando’s voice booms behind me as he enters from what I assume is the kitchen. “You’re Kiara — one of the photographers?”

  “What gave me away?” I smile and tap my camera. Fernando’s a large, cheery man with a big smile and light eyes. His dark hair is tie
d into a bun under his chef’s hat.

  Fernando laughs.

  Noah, one of the Edendale High kids, walks into the room. He heads for the food table, clearing up some empty trays. Noah is one of those kids that everyone knows about, but no one actually knows. I’ve heard he has like 2 part-time jobs during the year aside from his schoolwork. Despite being the school’s mystery guy, he’s always happy to lend a hand.

  “You’d better get your breakfast quick. Noah’s on a mission this morning.” Fernando gives Noah a wink. Noah, with a bagel clenched between his teeth, smiles and ducks out with the empty trays.

  "Looks like a couple of bagels survived his mission," I say. The food table is filled with amazing options, but there’s something missing. I keep my voice quiet, not wanting to impose. “Do you happen to have any avocado?”

  Fernando turns around and marches back into the kitchen. I stand for a moment, wondering if my avocado request might’ve somehow insulted his innate chef-ness. He returns and hands me a perfectly ripe avocado. “I’ve never tried avocado on a bagel before.”

  I grab a bagel. “Let me make one for you, it’s my favorite.”

  Fernando shows me into the kitchen and I put together his bagel with cream cheese, avocado, and tomato. It’s a staple for weekends when my mom is at work and we happen to have an avocado in the house.

  After sprinkling salt and pepper on top, I pass the plate to Fernando. He takes a big bite and smiles.

  “Wonderful. We might need to add this to the menu for the season,” he says.

  My cheeks flush red. I enjoy cooking and trying out new recipes — if we have any ingredients in the house. But to have something I made — however simple — complimented by a chef? That’s something I never would have expected.

  “You know where to find me if you need the recipe,” I say, winking, before I make up my own bagel. “Thanks Fernando!”

  I follow the buzz of energy out of the Inn and into the garden, happy to see that I’m getting better at finding my way through this place. I take another bite of my bagel and head to the lake. It’s the perfect spot to wait for guests.