The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk)

by Samantha Young

  “Jess . . .” He grinned, shaking his head at me. “It’s nice you stuck up for Bailey, but I can understand why she’s pissed at you. You kicked out a guest. As far as I know she’s never, not once in her whole career, kicked out a guest.”

  The guilt I was feeling increased. “But surely this was a situation that called for it, wasn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “I would have kicked him out of my bar, but that’s different.”

  “I never thought Bailey would be the kind of person who would take crap from anyone.”

  “She works in hospitality. It comes with the job. Why do you think she has such a low tolerance for bullshit in her personal life? She’s storing it up.”

  I laughed, cuddling closer to him. “Do you want to hear the best bit? The bit Bailey doesn’t know.”

  His eyes smiled at me so I took that as a yes.

  “She has Vaughn’s direct number. Apparently they exchanged numbers for business purposes—”

  “We did that, too. Most of us on the boardwalk did it.”

  “Oh.” And there I’d been hoping they’d exchanged numbers for a different reason. Still . . . it didn’t take away from what Vaughn had done. I grinned again, thinking about it. “Well, in my adrenaline rush of anger at the guest and admittedly wanting to be annoyed at Vaughn because I could tell the comparison to his hotel had hurt Bailey, I called him. Vaughn. I told him everything and that he could expect the pompous ass on his doorstep any minute and he was welcome to the idiot, with his nonschmaltzy décor and overpriced hotel.”

  “Jesus, Jess,” Cooper muttered.

  “I know, it wasn’t fair. His hotel is not overpriced. But that’s not the part that’s important. Vaughn got all growly and wolfy on the phone.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Never mind. Anyway he asked me to repeat what the guy had said to Bailey and when I did he got all quiet and intense.”

  “You could feel that on the phone?”

  I shoved him playfully for making fun. “Yes. Anyway, he asked for the guy’s name. You know why?”

  He rolled his eyes but played along. “Why?”

  “Because he was going to refuse him a room.”

  That got Cooper. I saw the question in his eyes.

  “Really,” I said. I squeezed his hand. “He likes her, Coop.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he just respects her. He was also raised in a world where manners are everything. Maybe he just doesn’t take too kindly to someone insulting a woman that he knows.”

  “I imagine it’s all of those things. And more,” I insisted.

  “Why do you care if Tremaine likes Bailey? Bailey has Tom.”

  This was true. And she seemed to love him . . . but there was something lukewarm about what they had. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Also, I didn’t think he was as supportive as he could be about the inn. Bailey was under pressure as it was and he compiled it by making her feel guilty for working hard.

  All I knew was that Bailey Hartwell was one of the most special people I’d ever met and I wanted her to have what I had with Cooper.

  Excitement.

  Thrill.

  An adventure.

  I didn’t know how to answer his question without saying all of that to him, so I wrapped my other hand around his elbow and leaned my head on his shoulder as we walked. We were heading to the music shop to price guitars for Joey, who wanted to branch out after the failed piano audition a few weeks back.

  I felt the soft touch of Cooper’s kiss on the side of my head. “Leave them be, Doc.”

  Doc.

  He hadn’t called me that in a while.

  I nodded, smiling.

  “Cooper.” An older man had stepped out of the doorway of a fish and tackle store and was now striding toward us. “How are you?”

  “Dr. Duggan.” Cooper nodded. “I’m good. How are you?”

  I tensed against Cooper. I’d met a lot of people over the past few weeks, including the mayor and Kell Summers and his partner, Jake. I had not, however, met the local doctor.

  “Oh, trying to sneak in the hobby while I can. It’s not easy what with the practice the way it is.” He smiled at me and held out his hand. “Paul Duggan.”

  I shook his hand politely. “Jessica.”

  He nodded and his hand tightened ever so slightly. “The doctor who sent Anita to me.”

  “Yes. How is she?” Archie hadn’t been into Cooper’s much, and I took that as a good sign for him, but had no idea what it meant for Anita.

  His expression turned grim. “It’s a hard battle for her, but it would have been even harder if you hadn’t gotten her to come see me when you did.”

  I was struck mute at what to say because the topic of medicine wasn’t exactly an easy one for me at the moment.

  “Actually”—he stepped a little closer—“I’m sure you’ve heard, but my daughter left my practice recently and we are in need of another doctor. You are more than welcome to apply, Dr. Huntington.”

  My pulse started to race at the offer.

  I was not going to lie, I was tempted to jump up and down and scream, “Yes!”

  The inn was fun. On good days. But I missed being challenged, and having to deal with obnoxious customers wasn’t the same thing as being challenged with complex medical ailments. Of course I’d had to deal with obnoxious patients (mostly their families, actually), but I could handle that because of the bigger picture.

  The problem was I didn’t know if I missed the challenge of doctoring or just being challenged in general. Did I miss the fact that practicing medicine made me feel less guilty about my past or did I just miss being someone who helped people?

  “Thank you, Dr. Duggan,” I said finally. “I will keep it in mind.”

  “Good.” He gave me a sharp nod and smiled at Cooper. “I’m pleased for you, son.” He clapped him on the shoulder and nodded his good-bye.

  As we watched him stride away, I leaned in to Cooper. “People are nice here, Coop.”

  “Yeah.” He looked at me in a way that I knew meant he wanted to ask me if I was seriously considering the job offer.

  However, he didn’t ask.

  In fact, since our argument and the resultant passionate encounter afterward, Cooper hadn’t asked me any questions that might lead to me closing up on him.

  The questions might not be asked, like right then, but they might as well have been, because all that the silence did was remind us of my secretiveness. And just like that, the thick tension crept up between us.

  When we reached the music store, Cooper took the opportunity to let go of my hand.

  I tried not to be paranoid about it.

  He needed his other hand to look at guitars, after all.

  But the sudden emotional distance between us made me want to freak out.

  So I followed him around the store as he looked at the guitars without acknowledging my presence. Finally, done with being ignored, I caught his hand in mine and leaned in to him again.

  I waited, anxious.

  He turned to look at me, and as he studied me, a familiar heat began to creep into his eyes. “After this, we’re going back to my place.”

  My breath grew suddenly shallow. “We are?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned down to murmur in my ear, “I want you on your hands and knees.”

  “My hands and knees,” I whispered. This was also becoming a familiar response to my emotional distance. Sex.

  He pulled back and there was more than a hint of the devil in his eyes. I wondered if this was his way of punishing me for not opening up to him.

  “Soaked . . . at least I have that from you.”

  It was possible this was Cooper’s way of controlling a situation he had no control over. If he couldn’t have my secrets, he’d have my desire.
And I was helpless against my passion for him.

  Suddenly Cooper was striding out of the music shop, his hand still holding tight to mine. “Cooper?”

  He didn’t answer as he marched us briskly down the street to his truck. “Get in,” he demanded as he yanked open the passenger door.

  I didn’t argue.

  Within seconds the truck was pulling away from the street as he headed toward his house. However, to my surprise, not a minute later, Cooper swung the truck into the dark alley between the ten-pin bowling building and the movie theater. The truck just fit behind the trash cans in the sunless space. “What are you doing?” I said, dumbstruck as I watched him unbuckle his seat belt in the dim light. Quickly realizing he meant for us to have sex here, I gasped, “Cooper . . . anyone might see us.”

  “No, they won’t.” His voice was gruff as he unbuckled my seat belt. “And I can’t wait for you, Jess.”

  Our eyes met and I flushed hot from the hungry need in his tone. But still . . . “Cooper . . .”

  His hand slid under my dress, pushing my thighs apart, and my hips jerked as his fingertips brushed over my underwear.

  My very damp underwear.

  Satisfaction hardened his gaze. “Get in the back, Jess.”

  I was about to combust. “Okay,” I whispered, clambering over the middle console, feeling like a naughty teenager as I collapsed against the backseat.

  Cooper was there with me in seconds, grasping my hips and pulling them toward him so I slipped down the leather onto my back. Our ragged breathing filled the car and I watched as he shoved my dress up and yanked down my panties.

  Next I heard the zipper on his jeans and anticipation rippled through my lower belly, making me past ready for him. “Coop,” I found myself pleading, suddenly as desperate as he was. We’d both been checked out; I was on the pill—there was no reason not to give in to the need for instant gratification.

  He gripped my left thigh, holding it high and tight against his hip, and then he thrust inside of me.

  Lights exploded behind my eyes as my inner muscles clamped around him, an unexpected orgasm shaking through me instantly.

  “Jess!” he grunted in surprise, slamming into me in deep strokes, stoking another fire inside of me. He braced his hands by my head, his thrusts slowing to hard pumps as his mouth crushed over mine.

  I kissed him back, desperate for the taste of him on my tongue.

  His lips trailed from my lips along my jaw to my ear. “Come for me, Jess. Again,” he demanded with a thrust that made my back arch with pleasure.

  I wanted to. I was hungry for it . . . but it was just out of reach, and I knew Cooper was close to coming.

  He slipped his hand between our bodies and pressed his thumb down on my clit. A jolt of hot pleasure zinged through me. “Yes!” I cried, arching against him as he circled my clit while his cock moved inside of me.

  Another climax tore through me.

  Cooper’s hips tensed against mine. “Jess.” He gave a long, low groan and his hips jerked against mine as he came.

  Gripping my thigh against his hip, he rested his forehead on my chest as he tried to catch his breath.

  Reality began to seep in as the heat of satisfaction cooled. “We just had sex in an alley,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “Couldn’t wait,” he murmured, lifting his head to look at me. “And that was over too fast. We’re not done.”

  Unbelievably, I felt desire stir within me again. “Can we make it to your place this time?” I teased.

  “Oh yeah.” He sat up, pulling gently out of me. “I still want you on your hands and knees.”

  Oh boy.

  There were worse ways to pay for being emotionally distant from him, I thought, pretending even to myself that I wasn’t scared that what we had between us was becoming too fragile to stay in one piece. “You got it,” I promised.

  I stared at the two bestsellers, trying to make up my mind which one I wanted to borrow. It was my morning off from the inn, and like many a morning since my arrival in Hartwell, I was spending it at Emery’s.

  A few weeks before, we’d stumbled over the awkward subject of finances. My finances. My now limited finances.

  Emery, because she was kind and did it without hurting my pride, offered to let me borrow books from her instead of buying.

  “I need your help,” I called to her after the only other customer in the store had left.

  It was still early in the morning. Not Emery’s busy time.

  A few seconds later she was by my side. “You can’t choose?”

  “These two.” I pointed to the books on her bestsellers chart.

  She contemplated them. “That one.” She pointed to the one on the right. They were both thrillers. “It’s smarter.”

  “Cool.” I took a copy down off the shelf and hugged it. “Thanks again.”

  She shrugged, wearing her usual shy smile. “Do you want a coffee?”

  “I sure do.” I followed her to the counter. “So what’s new with you?”

  “Um . . .” She frowned, thinking about it, and then her eyes lit up. “I ordered a new espresso machine.”

  I opened my mouth, not even sure how I was going to reply to that, when my phone rang, saving me. It was Bailey. She was, thankfully, over being pissed at me. “What’s up?”

  “George Beckwith isn’t selling to Ian Devlin!”

  I winced at her excited, shrill cry. “What?”

  “George Beckwith! We just got word. He refused to sell his building to the Devlins.”

  I grinned as she laughed. “Good news. So who is he selling to?”

  “Not a clue. But who cares? It isn’t Devlin! Oh, and he is furious.” She tee-heed.

  Emery gave me a quizzical look as she watched me chuckle. I mouthed, Just a sec.

  “Ooh, and another positive! George is coming back to town to deal with everything. You can give him Sarah’s letters.”

  Sarah’s letters.

  Wow.

  Like everything about my old life, I hadn’t thought about those letters much in the past few weeks. I guessed because I didn’t really want to think about them or the connection I felt to the woman who had written them.

  They were tucked away in a drawer in my room at the inn.

  But George deserved to see those letters.

  “That’s great.”

  “Look, a guest just walked in. Gotta go. But spread the good news!” She hung up.

  I grinned at Emery. “George Beckwith isn’t selling to Ian Devlin.”

  She smiled. “That’s good.”

  To be fair, Emery hadn’t seemed as concerned about Devlin buying property as everyone else, and I’d put it down to the fact that she wasn’t as big a part of the boardwalk community. I had learned that she and Iris were friends, but I worried that Iris and I were the entirety of Emery’s social circle.

  “Bailey is ecstatic.”

  “I could hear.” She laughed a little.

  “Yeah, she can be loud,” I said, affection clear in my voice.

  Emery gave me a rueful look. “I wish I had her confidence.”

  I wanted to ask why she didn’t have that kind of confidence. She was smart, she owned her own business, and she was beautiful. What was there not to be confident about? Before I could slip in a sneaky, prying question, the bell above her door jingled and we both turned our heads.

  My heart immediately shriveled up at the sight of Dana Kellerman.

  As per usual she was stunning and perfectly put together. I’d learned she was a hairstylist at the best salon in town. For that reason (and monetary reasons) I hadn’t had my hair trimmed since I got to Hartwell.

  Her cat eyes widened at the sight of me, suggesting she was just as surprised to see me, but I couldn’t tell if it was an honest reaction or not.


  She sauntered up to the counter, giving me a sharp nod, before turning to Emery. “Skinny latte,” she said.

  Emery nodded and proceeded to make her the latte.

  The most awkward, awful silence fell between the three of us, broken only by the sound of the coffee machine.

  “So . . . you and Cooper are for real after all?” Dana said suddenly.

  I didn’t say anything.

  It was a known fact that vipers could inject as much venom as they wanted depending on the circumstances. I wasn’t prey and I wasn’t predator, but I had the feeling this viper saw me as both. I didn’t want to help her out in deciding which one I was more of to her.

  She sighed. Heavily. “Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m just saying, I get it now. You two are obviously solid. I mean, you’d have to be.” She threw me a wry smile. “Other women might have left over the whole kids thing.”

  “Kids thing?” Damn. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  “Yeah.” She leaned in closer. “I know Cooper likes to tell people that my infidelity was the end of our marriage, but everyone knows the truth—I couldn’t have children and he resented me for it. And me . . . well, I was stupid. Instead of discussing adoption like he wanted, I let my hurt over his attitude get the better of me. But he was in the wrong, too. He . . . he’s not a very forgiving person and when you don’t act a certain way he . . . just shuts down. And kids . . . well, of course you know how important they are to him. He wants to be a father more than he will ever want you or me.”

  “Your skinny latte.” Emery slammed it down on the counter, momentarily pulling me out of my increasing panic.

  I’d never seen her glower at someone before.

  Dana seemed just as surprised. She sniffed haughtily, threw a few dollars on the counter, grabbed her coffee, and walked out before anyone could say anything else.

  “You’re not going to listen to her, are you?” Emery said.

  “Is it true?” I said, feeling this growing, horrible tightness in my chest. “Did that happen? Between them?”

  She gave me an apologetic look. “I wouldn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “I know she’s a snake . . . but . . .” I’d seen something in Dana’s eyes—a flicker of real pain. “There was a kernel of truth in what she was saying. I could tell.”