Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4)

by Gemma Brocato

  “Gaby, I—”

  Footsteps pounded on the hardwood stairs. Mal’s shoulders drew up toward her ears as she waited for the crash she knew was coming. The picture on the wall jumped when Gaby slammed her bedroom door.

  Malin tunneled her fingers through her short hair, ruining the sleek look she’d spent twenty minutes with a flat iron to achieve. She patted the dislodged strands back into place, tucked a lock behind her ear, and regarded the money scattered over the table. A couple of bills had fluttered to the floor, and she stooped to pick them up. She gathered the rest of the money, without tallying how much Gaby was carrying around with her, and neatened the stack. With a fistful of cash, she gazed thoughtfully at Gaby’s book bag. Pulling the sack toward her, she tucked Gaby’s bills back into the bag and zipped it shut.

  * * * *

  The aroma of garlic, onions, and red sauce wafted into her face a mere instant before the chink of flatware on plates and Italian café music caressed her ears. She’d arranged to meet Noah at one of her favorite restaurants in Granite Pointe, Amico’s Trattoria. The food was sublime and she could always manage to find a low-carb option on the menu. She waved at Noah as she crossed the room. A smile lit his face. Dimples popped into his cheeks as he stood to greet her.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said.

  “Worth the wait. You look terrific.” He put a hand to her cheek an instant before his lips descended to hers and lingered for a moment. Whoa! Everything in her, except her lips, froze at his impetuous gesture.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes danced. “Thought I’d get the good night kiss out of the way so things didn’t get weird or awkward after dinner.”

  “Oh.” His comment threw her. His unexpected move was weird and awkward. Noah’s out of the blue action moved flirting to a whole new level.

  He leaned over again and kissed her cheek. A completely non-electric press of his lips to her skin. Her lack of a physical response to the attractive man surprised her. Gunnar’s kiss had tripped her stomach into a loop-de-loop roll. Heat flashed into her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you,” Noah said, his tone held apology and some other underlying emotion Mal couldn’t identify. He pulled a chair away from the table before continuing. “I meant this to be a date, Malin. Maybe you didn’t.”

  Mal slid onto the fiddle-backed chair. Her words to Gaby pinged around her head. “No, I mean yes, I did think this is a date.”

  “Great. We’re on the same page then.” Noah busied himself, arranging his napkin in his lap. He took a sip of water.

  Stiff silence stretched between them.

  Mal aligned the bottom of her fork with her knife then adjusted the position of her water goblet. She cast about for an ice-breaker. Why was it so easy to banter with him in the shop? Away from the hustle and bustle of work, when they should be able to flirt to their hearts content, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

  “Um,” she began, “How are things at Laurel Glen? Now that you’ve reopened for business, I mean.”

  Relief flooded his face. “Good. Great. Everything is going very well. It’s not even tourist season and we’re at sixty-five percent occupied. The owners are happy.”

  “So the remodel is over? I heard there were still some projects left.”

  “In a resort of this size and repute, there are always projects. Clientele at a starred facility like The Glen expect the finest accommodations, the newest cutting edge toys in their rooms.” He leaned forward. “The days when we could stick a Bose sound dock in a room and call it luxury are long gone.”

  “What? I love my system. I paid way too much for it, but I justify the expense by using it every day in the shop. How is that not luxurious?”

  Noah laughed, the sound ringing out over the clatter of utensils on plates. “Malin, the kind of guests who stay at the Laurel Glen could own the Bose company and they’d want something different. Always looking for the next best thing.”

  “You’re right. I’ve planned a few weddings there, and it’s top shelf all the way. I have one coming up soon. The Aubrey-Smith wedding.”

  “Ah, yes. I had a run-in with the monster-of-the-bride this afternoon. The wedding is in March, but she informed me the azaleas along the driveway had better be in bloom. Azaleas do not bloom in March, at least not in this part of the country. I could not get her to understand that the management of Laurel Glen can’t order Mother Nature around.”

  Laughter threatened to burst out of Mal’s mouth, and she put a hand over her lips to hold it back. “Only the best for her little princess.”

  “I give the marriage about three months before it starts unraveling. I met with the happy couple a few months ago. It didn’t strike me as a match made in heaven. More like something made in the boardroom.”

  Mal concurred, but she kept those thoughts to herself. It wouldn’t do to have word get back to Mrs. A.S. that she’d been gossiping about her darling Ashleigh.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’d like to think young love can win the day.” Oh, jeez. Had she really just uttered that line of bullshit? She dropped her head into her hand, emitting a soft groan. She lifted her gaze to find laughter in his eyes.

  “Yeah, you did just say that.” Identical divots creased into his cheeks when he grinned at her. He was apparently a mind reader, in addition to being an incurable flirt.

  Mal let her hand flop to the table, palm up. “I do believe in love. Don’t you? I mean, you must. Your family is bursting at the seams with it.”

  Clouds filtered through his shinning blue eyes. He speared his fingers through his wavy brown-black hair, an agitated gesture. She’d struck some kind of nerve. Silence stretched between them before Noah huffed out a breath and dropped his hand to hers, stroking his forefinger across the sensitive skin on her wrist.

  “Yeah, we are a tight knit group. Lately, though, I can’t help being jealous of my siblings. My brothers and sister have all found happiness with someone. An individual so right for them, it’s like only now are they complete people. Unfortunately, that special person eludes me.”

  They were speaking about love, and Noah’s tone bordered on sad. Mal’s heart pinged uncomfortably, and she twisted her hand to lace their fingers together. Curious. The electricity she’d found in Gunnar’s touch was absent in Noah’s. She gave his a companionable squeeze before withdrawing under the guise of taking a drink.

  He grunted out an abbreviated laugh. “Sorry, that sounds awful and overly needy, doesn’t it?”

  Not any more pathetic than her lusting after Gunnar when she was out with this nice man. She liked Noah, but the man she wanted was his polar opposite. And not just in the looks department. “Everyone wants to have someone. That’s human nature. We aren’t meant to be solitary creatures.”

  “Yeah, but the thing is...I am happy. I have a great family, an exciting, challenging job, and I have Colby. It should be enough.”

  “Colby is your son, right? Jem told me he is seven and sharp as a tack.”

  Noah’s face lit up. “He’s eight and the center of my world. I’d thought he might have trouble adjusting to a new home and new school, but he’s settled right in. He thinks it’s cool that we live in a house that used to be a stable.”

  “You’re in the carriage house on the resort property? Barry, the manager before you, lived there. I remember thinking I’d gladly trade my forties bungalow for a chance to live there. You can still see the horse stalls.”

  “I converted one of the smaller stalls into my office. The floor to ceiling windows let a lot of natural light in. Colby likes to sit on the floor and play with his Legos there when I’m working.”

  The conversation seemed less stilted than it had a little bit ago. Like a good discussion between friends. “A Lego kid, huh? Maybe he’ll grow up to be an engineer.”

  “He could do worse, I suppose.” Noah leaned back in his chair to make room for the waiter to drop off a plate of breadsticks. “He likes to build,
but he also likes to draw and write stories and play pilgrim. A child of varied interests. Did you always want to work with flowers? To own your own business?”

  “Nope. I wanted to be a helicopter pilot.” She reached for one of the soft bread sticks. Breaking it into small bits on her plate, she picked up a piece and dipped it into the seasoned olive oil the waiter had prepared tableside. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I decided I wanted to be a floral designer when my junior-year prom date gave me a corsage that fell apart before the first course was served at dinner. I knew I could do better and make it prettier. I enjoyed indulging my inner Martha Stewart even back then. What about you? Did you always dream of running a luxury resort?”

  “I knew I wanted to run things. Be a manager, the boss, you know? I didn’t really settle on the hospitality industry until I took a couple of hotel management classes in college. Then I scored an internship with a prestigious resort management company, and my career path was set.” He paused while the waiter delivered their food, then picked up his fork and twirled his spaghetti around it. “I took a job with them after I graduated. Loved that job. Got to travel the world with them and work in some of the finest small-sized inns.”

  “Did you have a favorite?” she asked, curious about his traveling. She’d always wanted to visit other countries but never had. Leaving her dad had never been an option.

  “I spent a year at Chewton Glen, in Hampshire, England. It’s in the New Forest, on the southern coast.” A shadow passed over his face. “It’s where I met Colby’s mom. She managed the spa.”

  Mal sipped her wine, the dark red cabernet exploding on her tongue with hints of black pepper, currant, and vanilla. “Can I ask what happened?”

  “We had an affair that ended badly when she found out she was pregnant. A baby would have interfered with her master plan to open her own chain of spas. She wanted to get rid of it or put the baby up for adoption, my feelings be damned. I convinced her I wanted him and would take care of everything. She never held him, never fought for him when I left England to return home. I doubt her family knows she had a child.”

  The similarity between Colby’s circumstances and Malin’s childhood cut too close to home. Loathing for the women who’d given birth to both of them burned into her soul the way acid etched glass. And Gaby’s situation, although different, still fell into the same awful category. The three of them, no, the four of them, including Noah, had been abandoned. “That’s horrible.”

  “Colby is okay, though. He didn’t know her, so he can’t miss her. I’ll eventually have to explain the situation to him, but the question hasn’t come up. At least, it didn’t until my sister married Clay. Then Colby asked why Pip’s kids got to have a daddy and a mommy and he didn’t.”

  Setting her fork aside, Malin propped her chin in her hand and gazed at Noah. That would be a tough question for anyone to answer. At least she had a half-conceived notion of why her mom had left. Poor Colby. “How’d you handle that?”

  “I didn’t. Pip sat right down on the floor next to him and pulled him on her lap. Told him that some kids were so great and so unique, they only needed one parent to be a perfect family. But she was sure someday a woman who was perfect to be his mom would come along and win his daddy’s heart. Then they’d expand their little family by one more person. It worked for Colby.”

  “Pippa is brilliant at saying the right thing.”

  Malin wondered what words of wisdom Pip would offer about Noah. Or Gunnar. Would she tell her it was okay to only be friends with one or the other, or both of them? Could she help Mal make a decision about following her heart or her head? Throughout the meal and the entire conversation, Malin had been comparing her heart-to-heart discussion with Gunnar this morning to the conversation between her and Noah. She had to admit that even though it would be smart to avoid a romantic relationship with Gunnar Sims and focus on developing a romance with Noah, it simply wasn’t going to happen. The chemistry between her and Noah was as absent as her mom and Colby’s moms were.

  She cleared her throat, searching for the words to tell him nothing would happen between them. Noah beat her to it. “You know, I thought... I’d hoped maybe you might be that special someone Pip was talking about. But I think something is missing.”

  “Oh, God. You, too? I was so worried. There just isn’t that spark between us that makes me want to be more than just friends with you. I knew the second you kissed me. I’m sorry. That sounds harsh, I know, but I have to be honest.” Crap, relief had given her verbal diarrhea. She pressed her hand to her mouth. “That’s coming out wrong.”

  Noah laughed. “I understand what you mean. It was like kissing my sister.”

  “I’m so glad it wasn’t just me. Maybe I can introduce you to some of my single friends.”

  “How about if I work this one out on my own? A little old to be getting set up on a blind date, don’t you think?”

  “Noah, you are never too old for that kind of awkward.”

  “I’m going to disagree. Let’s order dessert and talk about getting your soaps and lotions into the Laurel Glen.”

  And just like that, Malin had a new and old friend.

  Chapter 12

  “Who’s the bum on the bench in the garden? Is he homeless?”

  Malin looked up sharply at the interruption. Gaby had just entered the workroom through the outside door. Something had been in the teen’s craw since Mal had picked her up from school. Most likely, the girl was still angry that Mal had gone out last night without inviting her along.

  She’d thought they’d achieved a state of uneasy détente when Mal had delivered on her promise to move the bed. Apparently not. The terse silence between them on the trip into Boston this morning had been bad enough. For every question Mal had asked, Gaby had responded brusquely, her tone designed to make the questions stop. The trip back to Granite Pointe after classes had eclipsed terseness and boiled right into acrimony. It was a good thing today had been Gaby’s last day at the old school. Starting Monday, she’d be able to walk to school.

  Malin had tried to drop Gaby at home, but the teen insisted she needed to talk to Chloe. Unfortunately, Chloe ran out to make a delivery the instant they walked through the door without inviting Gaby to ride along. Gaby had been blinking hard when she’d hightailed it to the garden a few moments ago. It had surprised Mal to see her back inside already. Gaby seemed to work very hard to avoid spending any more time alone with Mal than she absolutely had to.

  “There’s a homeless man outside?” she asked.

  Gaby crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Duh. That’s what I said, isn’t it? Some old fart is sitting on the bench. He’s dirty and mumbling and reeks like a bathroom floor. I think he’s pissed himself. Said his name was Ben.”

  Oh no! Oh, dammit! It appeared Dad hadn’t just fallen off the wagon; he’d jumped and rolled away from it as if it were on fire. Mal’s knuckles went white around the vase she held. Struggling for calm, she deliberately unclutched her fingers and set the delicate glass to the side. Considering she wanted to hurl the container to the ground, she was quite proud of herself.

  “’Cuse me,” she muttered. Grabbing her wool coat from a nearby stool, she drew it on and strode to the exterior door. She clenched the door handle and paused. Looking over her shoulder toward Gaby, she asked, “Could you watch the shop for a bit? I don’t know how long I’ll be. Please?”

  “Who’s the drunk?” The girl’s eyes were wide, her voice derisive with undertones of curiosity.

  Mal sucked a deep breath past the lump in her throat. She forced out a short, bitter laugh. “He’s my dad.”

  The door screeched on not-so-well-oiled hinges when Mal jerked it open. She stepped outside and pulled it closed behind her with a bang, shutting out Gaby’s shocked gasp. Snow drifted in the air, the dismal gray sky a perfect complement to her mood.

  Dad was seated on the bench, right where Gaby had said he’d be. Hunched over, elbows on his knees, he cradled his
head in his big hands. Mal paused, her head canted to one side, trying to decipher his words as he muttered to himself.

  Ah, that’s just craptastic. He’s singing their song. The song he’d told her they’d danced to when they’d first met. It was an Eagles song she couldn’t remember the name of, but every time she heard it on the radio, she changed the station.

  She approached the bench and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dad?”

  He reared up, the crown of his head glancing her chin. Stars exploded in her eyes, followed quickly by tears of pain. She batted her eyes to clear her vision and rubbed her jaw.

  “Girlie, my love. How are you thish fine day?” Dad blinked owlishly, scrubbing a hand over scruffy cheeks. His words were slurred. Mal hadn’t seen him since the day after Gaby had moved in, and it didn’t look like he’d shaved since then. Or bathed, if her nose could be trusted. Body odor and alcohol fumes stung her nostrils.

  “Aw, Dad. It’s snowing and you’re drunk. Where’s your coat?”

  He looked at the sky, his grin lopsided, as if noticing for the first time the small white flakes floating around him. “Malin! It’s snowing! Do you remember the first time we went sledding? Your mom and me and you. You were shush a little thin’. Looked sho darn cute in your snowsuit. Do you ’member what color it was? Oh yeah, it wassh bright pink. We could barely shee your face for the purple scarf wrapped around your head. Had to keep you warm. Your chubby little arms stuck straight out from your sides. D’you ’member that, girlie?”

  His clothes looked like he’d slept in them. Spying his coat on the ground behind the bench, Mal stooped to grab it, then wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled it closed. “I was too young to remember that.”

  “Girlie, you were never young. You were born an old soul. I never had a chance, either.” Tears shimmered in her dad’s eyes.

  Mal’s heart sat like a stone on top of her diaphragm. Without a doubt, he was speaking of a chance with Harriet. She squatted in front of her dad, fighting for breath. When she spoke, her words whispered out. “Dad, we were fine. I was fine. We did okay. What’s changed since we talked the other day?”