Under the Boardwalk

by Amie Denman

  “Can I pick more than one?” he asked.

  “You can have them all,” Gus said, laughing. “I must have eighty dozen cookies ready to go for my three shops.”

  “I hope you sell them all tomorrow,” he said. “On top of good sales for you, it’s great advertising for us.”

  Jack picked up the Lake Breeze Hotel cookie and bit the roof off. He closed his eyes. “Heavenly. It takes me back to the night I met you.”

  “A whopping two weeks ago.”

  When she laughed, her eyes sparkled. Her skin flushed, bringing pink tinges to her creamy milk complexion. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until all his problems disappeared.

  “I’m curious,” she said.

  Jack snapped back to attention. He wondered if his thoughts showed on his face.

  “Which one is your favorite?” she asked.

  He finished off the hotel cookie, the wonderful feeling of sugar rushing through his veins and—temporarily at least—clearing his head.

  “The night skyline.”

  He picked up the cookie, looking at it closely. It had a straight bottom and a gently curving top side. Dark blue icing—the color of the night sky before it got completely dark—contrasted with the white lines and dots representing the lights on the coasters and tall rides that had created a sparkling skyline every night of his life. All winter long, those lights gave him a dose of hope and excitement about the summer that was always coming.

  “Why?” Her voice was soft, almost a caress.

  “It reminds me of something I will never forget. Something good.”

  He swore he saw the hint of tears in her eyes, but he couldn’t imagine what he had said to upset her this time.

  “Me—”

  “Hey! Cookies. Whew, I’m starving.” Mel Preston shoulder-checked Jack and grabbed two cookies off the tray. “Thought you were going to hog them all for a minute there.”

  Gus gave Mel a mock-serious look. “You should wash your hands before eating,” she said.

  “Beautiful lady, I’ve eaten so much dirt in the ten years I’ve worked here, I’ve probably got an acre of garden growing somewhere inside.” He pointed to his abs when he spoke.

  “Augusta Murphy, this is my chief of maintenance, Mel Preston,” Jack said.

  “I’d shake your hand, but you might have noticed how revoltingly filthy I am.”

  “Nice to meet you. And I think I owe you. One of my employees called me a little while ago and said a maintenance man named Mel had fixed our fussy oven at the Last Chance earlier today. Thank you. I was getting desperate.”

  “Boss sent me over there.”

  “Your boss?”

  “Jack.”

  Gus turned to Jack. “I should thank you, too.”

  “Always liked electrical controllers,” Mel continued, wolfing down cookies. “Went to school to be an electrician, but I don’t always do that kind of work here.”

  “What do you usually do?”

  “Whatever the big guy says.”

  “Sounds like a smart decision,” she said. “I’ll be out with sandwiches later. I’m assuming we’re in for a long night.”

  “We are,” Jack said. “But you’re under no obligation to stay. It’s not your problem.”

  Gus drew her eyebrows together and gave Jack a look somewhere between confused and hurt.

  “Not my problem?” she asked.

  “Well, no. It’s nice of you to help... I appreciate it...but—” He wanted to say that Starlight Point was his problem, his responsibility. If anyone was going to be wet, tired, hungry and desperate, it should be him. He should be the one getting no sleep on the night before the season opening, not the woman in front of him who’d provided the only sweet spot in his day so far.

  “Because I’m just a vendor?” she asked.

  What? Where did that come from? She was new this year, so maybe she didn’t know that the lease vendors were practically part of the family.

  Or they had been until desperation made him alienate them.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  “And I’m not staying because it’s an obligation,” she said, her tone walking the line between hot and cold. “Neither are my employees, including your sister, who is serving cookies right now.”

  She spun around and headed for a group of maintenance men with her tray of cookies.

  “Looking forward to those sandwiches,” Mel called after her.

  Mel eyed Jack with a curious expression. “Sometimes I’m a little late to the party when it comes to matters of the...um...heart and all—at least that’s what my ex-wife says—but I think she likes you.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “She was totally immune to my charms, didn’t you notice? The only explanation I can think of is that you got here first. And you’re taller. That always helps.”

  “Our relationship is strictly business,” Jack said.

  “Sure,” Mel answered. He finished off the two cookies in his hand with only two bites each. “Good thing, otherwise you really screwed up.”

  * * *

  IT HAD TO be midnight. It might as well be midnight. Total darkness outside the hotel and total exhaustion between Augusta’s shoulder blades. And tomorrow was opening day. At least guests wouldn’t arrive until ten o’clock. If she hurried home and got right in bed, she might get enough sleep to ensure her survival of the big season opener. And all the days after that? She’d have to figure it out as she went.

  The Lake Breeze Hotel was on the beach at the opposite end of the peninsula from the front parking lot. More than a mile of walking awaited her. The breeze was cool, ruffling her long dark hair. Maybe a walk would relax the tension out of her muscles and help her get to sleep faster.

  Only a few lights dotted the midway. Tomorrow night, it would be ablaze while guests enjoyed the rides and games. Tonight was like Christmas Eve. Dark, but with the hush of anticipation and readiness. She walked quickly, shivering a little, anxious for her warm bed.

  Gus nearly jumped out of her skin when an engine sounded behind her and a headlight bounced up and down, unevenly illuminating the path in front of her. She stepped quickly to the side, afraid she’d be run down and killed, leaving her many employees adrift. Her aunt Augusta would be alone. Again.

  The cart jerked to a stop. Of course. Jack Hamilton. He put the parking brake on, killed the engine and doused the headlight. Jack got out of the cart and faced her in the darkness, blocking her path. His movements were surprisingly strong and deliberate for someone as tired as he had to be. In the darkness of the amusement park midway, it was easy to see him not as her enigmatic and unpredictable employer, but as a man. A man who wore a wet suit and kayaked, a man who stole cookies, a man in a bedraggled suit who’d just put in at least an eighteen-hour day. A man whose dark hair waved away from his face and whose eyes made her want to know the thoughts behind them.

  “I heard you left the hotel a few minutes ago,” he said.

  He was asking about her?

  “Evie told me,” he continued. “I kept an eye out for you, wanted to catch you.”

  He was watching for her? Gus couldn’t decide if that was incredibly sweet or a little spooky.

  “I wanted to give you a ride up front,” he said. Even in the darkness, she could see his teeth flash in a smile.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. You didn’t have to stay this late.”

  “A simple thank-you would do.”

  “Thank you.”

  Without a word, he pulled her against him, his arms strong but tender. Gus was stunned. Jack Hamilton was hugging her? That was definitely his cheek resting against hers, a long day’s worth of stubble grazing her skin. His scent was
all around her, the smell of warm skin in the cool air, a hint of musty water from the hotel pipes. Something about it was perfect and summed up Jack Hamilton to her. As frustrating as he could be, he had this place in his blood.

  What was she doing, letting him hold her this long? This was beyond a friendly thank-you hug. Because it was so late and she was so tired, the sensation was magnified. They were alone on the silent midway. She slipped her arms around his waist, wanting to push him away for being such a jerk, but drawing him closer instead. When was the last time she’d been in a man’s arms like this? It had been too long.

  She would back away in ten seconds, she told herself. Only ten seconds more of this feeling or she’d completely forget what side of the fence she was supposed to be on. She tried reminding herself that this man’s stubbornness was costing her thirty thousand bucks. But his touch felt like a million dollars.

  Fifteen seconds went by. Or twenty. It was hard to keep track. Her feelings were like the cotton candy they sold in bags on the midway. Delicious but delicate. They would melt away in a second.

  Gus released him and stepped back, pushing him away with light fingers.

  “What are you doing, Jack?”

  “Unless I’m dreaming, that was a hug. And it was the best part of my day.”

  “We can’t,” she said.

  “We were.”

  She held her hand up in a stop-the-car gesture. “This was a mistake. It’s late. We’re both giddy and tired.”

  “Didn’t feel like a mistake to me,” Jack said.

  “Hugging the boss is a mistake for me. Tomorrow morning you’re the man who owns all this and I’m just a vendor for the summer.”

  “So?”

  She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but vendors aren’t exactly in the first-class cabins on your ship.”

  Jack blew out a long exasperated breath.

  “Think it’s so great owning all this? Tell you what. I’ll trade you.”

  Gus laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. You love this place. You eat, drink and breathe Starlight Point. You even smell like Starlight Point.”

  Jack gave her a funny look and turned away, facing the long midway ahead of them. His broad back was like a wall in front of her, only the chasing strobes on the coasters visible over his tall frame, his white shirt like a sail on a vast ocean. He stood still for so long she thought he almost forgot she was there.

  “I’d do anything to save Starlight Point,” he said quietly.

  “Save it?” Did Starlight Point need to be rescued? It probably would if Jack continued to treat people like her and Tosha and Bernie the way he had.

  Without answering, Jack got in the driver’s seat. “I’ll take you to your van,” he said, not looking at her.

  She hesitated.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands on the steering wheel.”

  It was almost disappointing, knowing she’d shoved him far enough to preserve whatever working relationship they had. She’d walked away from the delicious feeling of his arms around her. Permanently. She doubted he would ever do that again.

  “I’ve seen your driving,” she said, her tone light in an attempt to chase away the darkness between them. “Keeping your hands on the wheel won’t help.”

  Jack exhaled loudly through his nose and waited.

  Should she get into the cart with a man who ignited her senses but made her want to run for the fire hose? Or add a mile-long walk to a day that had already been a roller coaster? She glanced at the sky, every star reminding her how late it was. She got in the cart.

  “I’m parked in the Star Spiral lot.”

  “I know.”

  “Spying on me?” she asked.

  “You drive a huge pink van with a wedding cake on it.”

  Gus shrugged. “I’m sure I’m not the only one,” she muttered.

  Jack switched on the headlights and slowly drove along the midway. She wanted to ask if the cart went any faster, but the silence was safer. Jack hadn’t said a word since the cart started moving. What would have happened if he’d kissed her? Would she have let him? It was useless to think of it. They’d both be better off forgetting it. For all she knew, Jack already had regrets.

  Jack waved at the security guard in the booth as they drove through the front gate. Her pink van wasn’t hard to spot in the empty parking lot.

  When he parked the cart, Jack grabbed Gus’s hand before she could step out. His other hand slipped to her elbow, gentle pressure insisting she stay for a minute.

  “Thank you for everything you did tonight.”

  She swayed toward him, the darkness and exhaustion taking down her defenses.

  “Just trying to help,” she said. “I can’t fix pipes, so food is my way of helping.”

  “Much appreciated. You have no idea how much.”

  She couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she could guess what she’d find. Lines of pure exhaustion. Probably the same ones she wore. And tomorrow was the beginning of a one-hundred-day marathon. Time to call it a night.

  Almost. She pulled her hand from his and climbed out of the cart, standing just out of his reach.

  “Do you think you’ll get the hotel ready for occupancy tomorrow?”

  “Barely. If we’re lucky. I’m headed back there now, got the midnight crew coming in. They’ll be fresh and ready to go.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not so fresh—apparently I smell like Starlight Point—but I have to be there. I own the place.”

  Gus glanced over his head at the lights on the rides and the coasters. Her breath caught when she realized exactly where she was standing—in the parking lot, right outside the front gates. It was the view she loved. Her view.

  She’d been five years old. Her parents had finally decided she was big enough to go on some of the rides and they’d come across the bay for an outing. Aunt Augusta was with them. It was a long day, a wonderful day. When the park closed, her father had had to carry her out, half-asleep in his arms.

  They’d been parked only a few rows from where she now stood. She remembered looking back at Starlight Point, the white lights on the rides, the twirling lights on the midway carousel just visible through the front gate, the tall lights chasing along the roller coasters. Everything was lit up against a sky the color of her favorite crayon in the box: midnight blue. She knew she would never forget the way she felt in that moment.

  It was the image of Starlight Point she’d carried with her for twenty years. The memory hit her with such force she was glad her face wasn’t visible in the darkness. She swiped at her cheeks.

  Jack’s family had given her that happy day and perpetually joyful memory, but she was all grown up now. She had a business to run, a loan to pay, employees who counted on her. Surrendering to a foolish attraction was not the way to begin the season.

  “I should go,” she said. “Long day tomorrow.”

  “Actually,” Jack said, “it’s just past midnight. Opening day is today.”

  “Happy opening day, Jack.”

  He said nothing, staring at the park instead. He didn’t look like a man who owned an amusement park. That man should be colorfully dressed with a noisemaker in his pocket, a fake handlebar mustache and a hand buzzer for surprises. Jack was dark, somber. Instead of sitting on top of the world, he had the world on his shoulders.

  “When you said ‘save Starlight Point...’” she began.

  Jack didn’t answer; instead he turned the key and let the loud, rattling engine fill the silence.

  Gus gave up, got in her van and pulled out of the narrow parking space. She risked a glance at Jack. He was still in the cart where she’d left him. He owned the place, yet he sat by himself wearing a ruined shirt in a dirty maintenance cart
in the parking lot. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she was sure he was looking at the night skyline of Starlight Point.

  Now that she knew the feel of his arms around her, she had no idea how she was going to resist him all summer.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A THUNDERSTORM JOLTED Jack out of bed at six in the morning. He’d gotten to sleep around three after finally seeing the Lake Breeze project to an end. For now. The fire inspectors would come on Monday, and until then, he had a crew standing by. One pumper, two firefighters. One more expense.

  Autumn was a long way off, but Jack was already thinking of how he would address the pipes. He’d have a crew go through and update all of them. His sisters had always been after their father to restore and renovate the entire hotel, but Ford Hamilton had pursued a different plan—build bigger and better rides to draw larger crowds. Jack wondered if his sisters had a point. Make it more enticing for people to stay right there on the peninsula, and their dollars would stay with them.

  That was a problem for another day. Right now, streaks of lightning cut the early-morning sky and crackled over the Star Spiral and the rest of the skyline.

  Jack saw it all from his modest home on the Old Road. A small strip of land connecting the mainland to the peninsula, the Old Road had been the only way to Starlight Point. But storms and washouts had convinced the city to build the Point Bridge decades ago. Now houses like Jack’s and his parents’ a few doors down were considered an exclusive place to live, with access to the lake, the bay and Starlight Point.

  Jack started the coffeepot and flipped on the television. He was almost afraid to see the weather report. He searched for the local news channel and saw his own face.

  “Starlight Point opens for the season today,” the newscaster said, “under the leadership of the next generation. Jack Hamilton will take over daily operations, replacing his father, Ford Hamilton, who died unexpectedly earlier this spring.”

  They rolled some film footage of maintenance crews working on the new ride about a week ago.

  Jack grimaced as he watched himself on television looking confident and saying, “We’re excited to add the Sea Devil to our list of world-class coasters.” More PR shots followed, showing painting and other prep work. He caught a glimpse of a pink van on the midway in one of the camera angles. He wondered if Gus was awake. Was she watching the news and thinking about him, about last night?