by Maggie Marr
“I am, Berty. I’m very pleased.” Her gaze returned to Charla. “We wish you the best.” With that, the couple turned and left San Surf. Charla stood behind the counter and watched them walk out the door.
“Who was that?” Tag asked.
“A guy I used to know,” Charla said. “Or thought I did.”
*
“Mr. Murphy?”
Ryan looked up from his desk. Antigua stood just inside the doorway. “Come in, Antoine. Do you have news?”
Antoine nodded and walked to the chair opposite Ryan’s desk. “I’m afraid it’s not what we’d hoped.”
“Orso is maintaining his innocence.” Ryan sat back in his chair.
“Exactly. It appears they’re going to trial.”
“Not what we wanted. Our guests like privacy, and that includes not seeing the name of their favorite resort in the press.”
“The prosecution’s case is solid. Or as solid as any jury trial can be. But the prosecutor has made one request.”
“Anything. We’ll do anything the authorities ask. I’ve made that clear.”
Antoine nodded. He hesitated.
“They’d like to interview Miss Duvall.”
Ryan swallowed. Just Charla’s name on Antoine’s lips caused a sharp pang in his chest. He thought of her every day. He missed her every night. And yet, he’d done as she asked and not contacted her.
Was that a wise choice? Should he have chased her to California? Called? Begged? Sent roses and any other baubles that might sway her? But they wouldn’t. He couldn’t buy Charla’s love. She’d given her love to him willingly, and he’d asked for her forgiveness, which she’d been unable to give. While he understood her honesty about her own inability to trust, he didn’t have to like her decision. He hated every moment without her.
“Have they contacted Miss Duvall?”
“She’s on her way to Mesquale.”
His stomach pitted. Charla. His Charla was coming back to Mesquale.
“I thought you should be made aware. She arrives late tomorrow. I know that several staff members have plans with Miss Duvall while she’s in Parpetai. There’s a party planned. The end of Poppy Martin’s six-month contract, Miss Duvall’s former roommate, is tomorrow. She leaves Mesquale soon after.”
“I see.” Ryan closed his eyes. Charla hadn’t called Ryan to tell him of her return to the island. Her lack of communication was a statement in itself. He pressed his lips together. “Thank you, Antoine. Will you please call Miss Duvall? Let her know that should she need anything, a place to stay, security, anything, that all the resort’s resources are at her disposal.”
Was this the cowardly thing to do? Have Antoine call Charla? Shouldn’t he be the one to do so? Hadn’t her absence of any communication proved that she didn’t want to hear from him? Wasn’t he simply doing as she asked?
“I’ll advise you once the interview is complete. The prosecutor believes that the interview will cause Mr. Orso to plead guilty.”
“I’m not privy to the machinations of Orso’s criminal mind, but if it does, job well done. You’ll let our in-house legal know as well? Have a member of business affairs go over and monitor the interview, so that Charla—excuse me, I mean Miss Duvall—doesn’t feel alone or unprotected.”
“Yes, sir.” Antoine stood and turned toward the door. He paused and looked back. “Sir, would you like … would you like to arrange a chance meeting, perhaps with you and Miss Duvall?”
Ryan smiled. Ah, now Ryan needed his chief operating officer to work romantic magic in his love life? “Thank you, Antoine, but no. I’m sure that Miss Duvall would see through that charade, and she wouldn’t like us manipulating her.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll keep you informed.” Antoine left.
Ryan’s office felt bigger and emptier than normal. Antoine’s words lingered in the room. Charla. Ryan stood and walked toward the windows of his office. The ocean was blue and the sky was brilliant. Another day in paradise. Except Mesquale no longer felt like paradise to him. His days and nights were filled with thoughts of a woman he couldn’t have.
He couldn’t let Charla come to Mesquale and not try to persuade her to stay. Respect for Charla’s wishes was one thing, but he wasn’t a fool. Yes, he’d agreed not to call her, not to email, or text, but only because he’d believed he’d hurt her too deeply and didn’t deserve the opportunity to convince her of the truthfulness of all that he’d said. He did love her. He loved her still. He’d never agreed not to see her. Not to go to her if she came to Mesquale.
His body ached for her. Every night in his dreams she shared his bed. To wake and not have her beside him was a torture he’d endured for way too long. Ryan walked to his office door. No, he wouldn’t wait a moment more. He knew exactly who he needed to see and exactly what he needed to do.
Chapter 17
An explosion of clothes and shoes greeted Charla when she walked into her old dorm room at Mesquale.
“Girl! You’re here!” Poppy threw her arms around Charla’s neck and pulled her into a huge hug. Poppy pulled back and eyed Charla. “And don’t you look fancy. Those are some very serious threads.”
“It was a very serious meeting,” Charla said.
“Yeah, how did that go? You didn’t actually have to see Orso, did you?”
Charla shook her head. “Fine, I guess. They asked me questions about that day and how I’d seen Orso at the airport and the things that he said to me there.” Charla had hated having to tell the prosecutor the words Orso had said about her and Ryan. She took a long breath. “Lasted a couple hours, and now I’m done.”
“And I’m free!” Poppy lifted her arms above her head and danced around the room to her own beat. “Hong Kong, here I come.”
“Tomorrow?”
Poppy nodded, walked to the desk and poured a glass of pinot. “This one is yours. I’m certain you can use it.”
Charla took the glass of wine. She removed the jacket she’d worn over her dress and sat on the empty bed that three months before had been hers. “They never gave you another roommate?”
“I think Mr. Ryan took care of that. Guilt, probably.” Poppy sipped her wine. “Have you seen him yet?”
“Not yet.” She’d arrived early yesterday and stayed in a tiny B&B in Parpetai last night because her meeting with the prosecutor was on the early side today. Since she’d stepped off the shuttle at the resort, she’d been looking over her shoulder. Her stomach tickled, and anxiety bounced around her insides.
Ryan was here. So close. After months of not seeing him, she knew he was very near. Scared. Worried. Excited. Fearful. Anxious. She couldn’t get a grip on which one she was experiencing at any given moment. She couldn’t even drink her wine. Her stomach was too twisted into knots to try.
She glanced around the room. “What are you doing with all this stuff?”
“Excellent question,” Poppy said. “This pile is for I don’t know. The suitcase is for take, and that pile”—she pointed to where Charla sat on the spare bed beside a pair of worn flip-flops—“is for need to get rid of. How do I have more things now than when I arrived? I don’t shop when I’m here. I don’t buy things. How is it possible?” The amount of things Poppy had strewn about the room would not fit into the two suitcases on her bed.
“People leave behind things when their contracts are up. You’ll do the same.”
“I’m thinking storage locker in Parpetai,” Poppy said. “Trevor agreed to share one with me.”
“His contract is up …”
“Three days,” Poppy folded the sundress and put it into her red suitcase.
“Did he get a ticket to Hong Kong too?”
“Ha, ha.” Poppy tossed an old swimsuit toward Charla. “That thing is tired and has seen better days.” She looked over her shoulder at Charla. “No, Trevor did not get a ticket to Hong Kong, nor is he going to. I think he has to go home for a while or something.”
“Where’s home?”
Poppy shru
gged.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve been sleeping with him for six months, and you don’t know where he’s from?”
“Charla, I told you, this is a casual affair. We’re hanging out until our contracts are up, and then it’s sayonara, baby, see you next time, maybe.”
Poppy’s whole demeanor was forced nonchalance, but the defensiveness in her tone gave away her true feelings.
“Poppy, it’s not true,” Charla said in a soft voice. “You’re in love with Trevor.”
Poppy folded a pair of shorts. She turned toward Charla and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s rich coming from you. Leaving the man you’re in love with because of what other men have done to you.”
“That’s not fair. Ryan lied. To all of us. He—”
“To try and make things better.” Poppy tossed the shorts into the suitcase. She bent over and picked up a red pair of high heels. “Besides, you lied too.”
“Me?”
Poppy walked to the bed and laid the red heels with scrapes along the side onto the pile that was to throw out or give away. “You betrayed Liam’s trust. Didn’t you?”
Charla’s mouth dropped open, and she tilted her head. “Poppy, that’s completely different. I did that so Mesquale could have the best food and beverage director, and because Liam actually wanted the job, he just didn’t know how to make it work with his daughter.”
“Right, I get it. But didn’t you have to tell Antigua all that after you had promised Liam you wouldn’t tell anyone about his little girl?”
“But it’s working out, isn’t it? I mean, they are insanely happy on the island, from the emails I get, now that Liam has email, and isn’t he a great food and beverage director?”
“Not the point.” Poppy folded another pair of shorts.
Charla crossed her arms over her chest. Heat flamed through her cheeks. Her telling Antigua about Liam was completely different than what Ryan had done. “Then what is your point, Pop?”
Poppy turned to her, and the corner of her mouth hooked upward. “Don’t use that snappy tone with me, girly. You only get this way when you know I’m right.”
Charla sighed and slumped forward.
“My point is that Ryan lied for the benefit of all of Mesquale, and the things he discovered and the changes he made have helped us all. Seriously, this place is becoming a topnotch employer. I’m lucky they offered a slacker like me another contract. If he’d told you who he was, then he couldn’t have done all that he did.” Poppy tossed a T-shirt toward Charla, who snatched it from the air. “Plus he never lied about you. He never lied about how he felt.”
Charla folded the T-shirt and didn’t meet Poppy’s gaze. “How is he?” Charla asked in a soft voice. Her heart beat faster with thoughts of Ryan, and her stomach flipped and twirled.
“He works all the time. He doesn’t date, or at least not that I can tell.” Poppy walked to Charla and sat on the bed. “And his eyes look sad.”
Charla pulled her bottom lip under her top two teeth. She closed her eyes. “I do love him,” she whispered. “I know that I do.” She looked at Poppy, an urgency in her eyes.
“I know,” Poppy said. “And I know he loves you too.”
*
“Why is the CEO of one of the biggest privately held companies in the world calling me at six a.m.?” Ryan opened the shade in Trevor’s room, and sunlight burst through the window.
“Dude!” Trevor pressed his arm over his eyes. He peeked out from behind his forearm. “Wait? My mom called you?”
Ryan nodded.
“Sorry, man. She can get a little … strident.”
“I know some CEOs. I think I talked her down.”
Trevor turned his head toward the other side of his bed. “Wait? Where’s Popster?” He slammed upward. “Shit … did she leave? Man, today is her last day.” Trevor jumped from bed, and Ryan looked away. His former roommate was known to sleep au naturel, especially when Poppy spent the night.
“Relax. She’s here. She hasn’t fled Mesquale just yet. I think she’s in her room with Charla.” Her name on Ryan’s lips caused an ache in his heart. Charla was here, at Mesquale, and he hadn’t seen her yet. Wasn’t certain that she wanted to see him.
Trevor pulled on a pair of shorts and flopped back onto the bed. “Dude. How is that for you?”
“It’s an opportunity,” Ryan said. “Another chance to convince her she needs to be with me. I gave her space, but no more. She’s mine, and I’m going to make her see that.”
“Way to go, man.” Trevor nodded. “That is exactly right. What’s it been? Three months? That’s a whole lot of space, and you still got it bad?”
“Like she never left,” Ryan said.
“Then she’s it for you, man.” Trevor nodded his head. “Guess I need to take my own advice.”
“So your mom—”
“—needs me to come home,” Trevor said.
“Said it’s urgent.”
“Always urgent with the Moms. She’s an urgent type of lady. Runs the show and wants me to run it too.”
“That is one big show.”
“You know how many cows have died for her, man?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Millions. I don’t even eat red meat. How am I supposed to run Up Side Burger when I don’t even eat what they sell?”
Ryan wanted to laugh, but he held it in to avoid hurting Trevor’s feelings. These were high-class problems. Trevor was faced with the possibility of taking over a giant restaurant chain that had been started by his grandparents.
“Moms doesn’t get it, man. Up Side Burger is not my monkey, not my circus.”
“But it could be. You’d be great at it, wouldn’t you? You’re good with people, you know that business, your mom has been grooming you for the gig since you were eight.”
Trevor shot Ryan a look.
“We talked for a while, me and ‘Moms’.”
“I bet.” Trevor stood and walked across his room to the desk. “Did she also tell you that I’ve been a writer since I was eight too? That I love words and I’ve been telling her for twenty years that I want to be a writer?”
“She mentioned that. And also how writing and working at Up Side Burger aren’t mutually exclusive.”
A shiver shook Trevor’s shoulders. “Just the thought of it, man, putting on the suit and tie and those hard-ass leather shoes? Punching the clock. Working in a cubicle.”
“You’d be the boss, and the dress code is yours to change. As for punching a clock and having a cubicle? Trevor, come on, you have a business degree from Stanford. You know how being the head of a company works and what it entails.”
Trevor turned to Ryan and dropped the funny facade. “I do, man. I do. I saw my dad do it and then my Moms. I watched my grandparents work themselves into their graves. I don’t want that for myself. I don’t. If it means I give all that up, the money and the business, I’m good with that. Why do you think I came to Mesquale? To see if I could hack it without the Up Side dough.”
Ryan took a deep breath. “But you always had the safety net in your mind. It’s always there for you.” He shook his head. “I never understood how freeing that is, the knowledge that you have money in case of emergency, until I had it. Enough for anything that went wrong. Trevor, don’t take that gift for granted. Most people don’t grow up like that. Most people never know that type of freedom. Your family worked their asses off to give that to you. I had to get it for myself, and I sure as hell want to give that kind of freedom to my kids.”
“Right, Ryan, I know my existence has been privileged. I know that I’ve never faced the fear of not knowing where my next meal is coming from. But what if your kids didn’t want to run Mesquale? What if your kid had a different dream? A different desire? What if they’re willing to work their ass off for something different than what you built? Would you tell them either work the family business or you’re dead to me?”
Ryan jerked his head back. “Of course not. That sounds insane
.”
“Yeah it does, man, and that’s my Moms.”
That didn’t sound like the woman he’d spent the last hour on the phone with. Mrs. Brice had sounded reasonable and kind and loving. She missed her son and wanted him home. Ryan kept his thoughts to himself. Family was a tricky thing, and just because Trevor’s mom seemed nice on the phone didn’t mean she wasn’t a control freak when it came to her son.
“So what is going on with Poppy tonight?” Ryan asked.
“Coquille at eight and then see how the night unfolds. You coming?”
Ryan stuck his hands into his pockets. “Won’t that ruin everyone’s good time? The big boss dropping by the party?’
“No, man.” Trevor squinted. “Well, maybe.”
“I was thinking a bonfire on the staff beach after. I’ll get it set up. Around midnight?”
“Seriously?”
Ryan nodded. “Seriously. Just don’t tell the new owner.” He opened the door.
“No way, man. I’m not sure I even like that guy.” Trevor said, joking about Ryan.
Ryan smiled and walked out of the room. “And call your mother. I promised I’d make you call her.”
“Fine, man. You got it, but she’s going to see me in three days.”
Chapter 18
“Poppy, is that everything?” Trevor looked into the storage locker in Parpetai. “You hardly left room for my stuff.” He yanked down the heavy metal door and slipped the padlock through the metal clasp.
“What’re you complaining about? You’ve got plenty of room. Besides, you’ve got less stuff than me.”
Trevor slid the key from the lock and held it up. “Who keeps it?”
“Well, I suppose I’ll be first one back, so me.”
Trevor held his hand up high out of Poppy’s reach. “You won’t lose it then, Pop, on your random travels around the globe?”
“Of course not.” She reached up toward his hand, her body pressed to his. Tiny shirt, little skirt, the press of her breast, the scent of skin, that mouth. How could he let Poppy leave? “Now give it.” Poppy smiled and reached higher.