by Julia London
By the time she stood up and rolled up her mat, she was calmer and centered. She knew how this thing with Edan would end. She would be the bigger person, of course. She imagined herself knocking on his door with a basket of nutballs. She would calmly explain they were her parting gift. She would say she was happy to have made his acquaintance and a Realtor would soon be in touch. He would thank her and take her nutballs.
And then she imagined him falling on his knees and begging her to forgive him. Jenny starred in this version. She caressed his head and remind him that it was better this way, that he was so piteously desperate for a woman who had dumped him that she wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t get on with it and get out.
Oh, who was she kidding? There weren’t any nutballs left.
Jenny returned to the inn, her mind on the paperwork the Realtor said she’d need to proceed.
“Jenny!”
Vanessa’s voice startled her so completely that she jerked around and dropped her yoga mat, because Vanessa and Brooke were standing near the entrance.
Jenny picked up her yoga mat. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” Brooke asked cheerfully. “We came to check on you.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t get upset,” Vanessa said. “It’s Friday and I’ve never been to Lake Haven. And it’s not every day one of my besties buys an inn. I wanted to see it.”
Brooke chucked Jenny on the shoulder. “Which way to the bar?”
“It’s eleven a.m., Brooke. And there is no bar. And the inn isn’t really open for business.”
“Which is why we booked rooms at the resort on the north shore,” Vanessa said. “They have a bar. And a spa.” She rubbed her hands together as if she’d just stumbled on a bag of diamonds.
“So let’s go there,” Brooke said.
“I have to change,” Jenny said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She left her friends admiring the roses in the courtyard and hurried inside to change.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the SUV Vanessa had rented, driving around the lake.
At the resort, Vanessa and Brooke checked into a plush room, and then the three of them headed to the bar and took a table near the windows. When they’d ordered their drinks and some food, Brooke folded her arms on the table, looked at Jenny and said, “Okay. What’s really up with this inn business, Jen?”
“Nothing,” Jenny said with a shrug. In a most curious twist of her universe, for the first time in a very long time, she did not want to talk about it.
“Nothing? Seriously? You’ve been here a weekend and you’re buying the place? It’s a little nutty, even for you.”
“Actually, it’s been almost two weeks,” she said, as if that would make a great difference. “And so what if I am? You guys are so desperate for me to get a job. This is a job.”
“I was thinking of a job you might know a little about. You don’t know anything about running an inn,” Vanessa pointed out.
“I’ll learn,” Jenny said irritably. “Why are you so against it?”
“I’m not,” Vanessa said calmly.
“She’s not!” Brooke said, less calmly. “We’re not. But you have to admit, you have a tendency to be really impetuous.”
“I admit I can be really impetuous,” Jenny conceded. “But I can also be pretty dedicated. You didn’t even look at the inn. You didn’t see what I saw.”
“Okay,” Vanessa said. “Fair point. But if you’re so down with this idea, then why do you look so sad?”
“I look sad? I don’t look sad. I’m not sad,” she insisted.
“You look totally sad,” Brooke said.
Jenny waved her hand at Brook and averted her gaze. “I’m tired, that’s all.” She was completely and utterly exhausted, she realized. Emotionally exhausted. It was weighing her down. Jenny was pretty good about keeping her spirits up, but even she could admit that the last few months had been a roller coaster, and after last night... Jenny didn’t realize she was slowly sinking into her chair until her forehead rested on the table.
“Ohmigod,” Vanessa said. “Hello!” she called to the waitress. “We need another round over here!”
Jenny slowly lifted her head and propped it up on her palm. “I slept with someone.”
“Who?” Brooke demanded.
“The owner of the inn. Same guy I kissed.”
“Oh, that guy,” Vanessa said. “Well, okay. Maybe it helped you forget Devin.”
Jenny snorted. “I forgot Devin the day I left him.”
“Was it bad?” Brooke asked, wrinkling her nose.
“No! It was outstanding.”
“Then why so sad?” Vanessa asked, looking befuddled.
“I really like him,” Jenny said. “I really do. He’s quiet, and he’s sort of a loner, and there is something about him that really speaks to me. Unfortunately, he’s not over his ex.”
“Why?” Brooke asked. “Did it just happen?”
“A few months ago, I think.”
Brooke leaned back, frowning.
“The sex was freaking awesome,” Jenny said. “All the bells and whistles went off. I even congratulated myself on facilitating his entry back into living after a bad breakup.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Sadly, I’m not kidding,” Jenny said somberly. “But this morning, it was clear he was having second thoughts.” She threw up her hands. “Story of my life.”
“That is so not the story of your life,” Brooke scoffed.
“It is. When I find a man I’m really interested in, it always turns out that they are not so interested in me. They want someone thinner and prettier and blonder. They want you.”
“No they don’t,” Brooke scoffed, and flipped the ends of her platinum-blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’m used to it, but this felt a lot different to me. It almost felt like…like…” Her gut was twisting.
“Like what?” Vanessa pressed her. “Love?”
The word startled Jenny. “Sort of. Like he needs me. There, I said it. It felt so different because I think he really needed me. Needs me. But I don’t think he knows it.”
“If this guy doesn’t see you for the wonderful, beautiful person you are, then it’s his loss,” Vanessa said.
“The thing is, I thought maybe he did see something more to me. Not at first, because I know it takes a bit to warm up to me. Remember in college how awful Professor Trewillier was to me for the first few weeks? But once he got to know me, he liked me, remember? It was kind of like that. I thought Edan was really starting to like me, and maybe he does, but he obviously likes this chick in Scotland more. He told me this week he loved her.”
Brooke and Vanessa exchanged a look. “Who knows, Jen,” Brooke said. “It’s hard to know anyone in the space of a few days. Maybe your timing is all wrong. Maybe he just needed more time to get over it. And you always say, if it’s meant to be, it will be.” She shrugged, picked up her drink, and sipped. “You must be rubbing off on me because I actually believe that,” she said, and clinked her glass against Jenny’s.
“Forget him,” Vanessa said cheerfully. “Let’s go look at this inn.”
* * *
For Edan, the day had flown by in a whirl of emotion and work. The morning stayed with him, shadowing his every move like a dog. He didn’t think he’d ever forget standing at the kitchen window, watching Jenny walk across his terrace, her dress swinging around her knees in a carefree manner, while he’d been reeling. Had it truly been such a casual thing to her? Another day, another shag?
He’d turned away from the window, full of tender feelings for Jenny Turner. So tender that he was thinking of drastic things.
Edan considered himself to be a generally measured, thoughtful man. He planned things. He thought things through, considered all sides. He did not make decisions on a whim. He did not make decisions on the basis of how good the sex had been.
But he was about to.
It wasn’t just the sex,
really—it was the way his thoughts were warring with his emotions. His common sense was trying to convince him that he was experiencing euphoria from sex after a long absence from it, while the devil was whispered into his heart—was still whispering, goddammit—that Jenny was someone entirely different from any woman he’d ever known. Based on nothing other than a feeling. But that feeling went straight to the core of him.
He’d decided things in the light of dawn when he’d glanced down, seen her caramel hair covering her face, sprawled across his bed and taking up every inch of spare space with her limbs bent and splayed across it. He’d been aroused and he’d wanted her again, but he’d also needed to think about what the hell he was doing, so he’d eased himself out of bed.
He’d showered, dressed, made tea. He’d thought all sorts of things, millions of things in that time—mostly big-picture things, like how he was entitled to live his life. That he had nothing left to prove. That he’d actually bought into her ideas for the inn, because he’d had similar thoughts through the years.
That he very much liked it here at Lake Haven and always had. The inn was a challenge and always would be. And he meant it when he said it wasn’t the sort of place you wanted to end up alone, especially in winter. What he needed was a partner. Call him crazy, but he thought that partner could be Jenny.
Aye, then, crazy. You’ve known her for the space of a few days and between the sheets, and now you’re thinking of how bonny it would be to run an inn with her?
That’s what he’d been thinking when she’d bounded out of his room this morning, all cheerful and flushed. Edan had to work not to panic, because the craziness was particularly strong when he looked at her. But then she’d rushed off as if she’d finished her laundry and needed to get to the next task.
It had left him feeling quite vulnerable.
Nevertheless, he’d gone on to work as men do, just as he always went to work when Audra was unhappy. He’d seen the Pettimores off and had closed that account, then had closed the door of his office and tried to concentrate on the mounds of paperwork he’d let slide as he’d worked to close the inn.
He’d lost track of time when Rosalyn poked her head in his office. “You canna go without food, lad. You’ll make yourself ill.” She presented him a plate of fish and chips.
“Thank you,” he muttered, and pretended to be concentrating on his work.
But Rosalyn lingered. She wandered over to the window, from where she could see the front drive and courtyard. “Ah, there’s Jenny and her friends,” she announced.
Edan assumed Rosalyn meant Lorenzo and perhaps his brothers. “Friends,” he repeated.
“Aye. Girlfriends come up from the city.”
Now he glanced up. “We’re no’ open. I’ve no rooms ready for them.”
“They’re staying at the resort,” Rosalyn said.
“Of course they are,” he said a little darkly. That resort had been the bane of this inn. It was impossible for quaint to compete with luxury amenities.
“Tsk tsk, Eddy. In a mood again, are you?” Rosalyn said, and thumped him on the back of the head as she went out.
When she closed the door, Edan dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the place she’d thumped him. Maybe he was in a mood again. He’d been stewing in his juices all bloody day.
He stood up and paced around the office. What in hell are you doing? Fretting over a woman he scarcely knew? Thinking of holding on to an inn he’d worked so hard to close? All because she’d filled his head with a lot of flowery ideas?
But they were good ideas. So were his.
Edan sat down and tried to work again. But after thirty minutes of that, he gave up. He needed to clear his head. He went outside, Wilbur and Boz trotting along behind him.
And then he watched his dogs trot right past him, all the way down to the first tee box, where Jenny was standing with a golf club in her hand. He heard her exclaim with delight when the dogs appeared, watched her dip down to greet them.
Lorenzo was there with his clubs, too, naturally. So were two women. Tall and slender, the both of them. Pretty. The four of them were laughing, and Lorenzo teed up his ball and took a swing at it, they all cheered for what was obviously a good drive. Next was Jenny’s turn. She teed the ball, then swung her club in a haphazard manner. Lorenzo moved in behind her, his body folding over hers, his arms showing her how to swing a golf club.
Edan’s blood raced. Had she gone back to that fucking Italian? What was between her and Lorenzo anyway, and why hadn’t he bloody well asked?
The sudden, piercing shriek of a woman caused Edan to jump a good foot in the air. It sounded as if someone had discovered a body. A sudden commotion and a lot of shouting in Italian followed that when a woman appeared on the walk that went around the inn. She had long, flaming red hair and was wearing a skirt so short that it looked impossible to actually sit. She teetered in heels that made her tower above Ned, who followed along with her bags.
Lorenzo dropped his club. He babbled in Italian, gesturing to Jenny, who was shaking her head, and then raced toward the redhead and grabbed her up, even while the both of them shouted over each other in Italian.
Edan looked back to the women on the tee box. To his surprise, Jenny was clapping. She was laughing and smiling, clearly happy that this woman had come. And then she was running to where Lorenzo was now kissing the redhead. Incredulous, Edan watched as Lorenzo introduced Jenny, who threw her arms around the woman. And then around Lorenzo. And then around the both of them, pushing them together.
The scene was chaotic and confusing, but Edan was certain of one thing—Jenny was not sleeping with Lorenzo. She wasn’t playing both ends against the middle. He turned and walked back to his office, his step a little lighter.
Fifteen
Elizabetta was beautiful. A goddess. And a bitch.
She and Lorenzo alternately fought and made up for the rest of the afternoon while Jenny translated for Brooke and Vanessa as best she could. But Lorenzo and Elizabetta’s speech was so fast and angry at times that she couldn’t keep up. “She’s telling him he is as stupid as a cow, and that he thinks with his dick, and he said that she is beautiful and he would do anything for her.”
“Like what?” Brooke asked. “I need specifics.”
Jenny shook her head. “They’re talking too fast. Anyway, I think he’s begging like a dog now.”
“It’s working,” Vanessa said, nudging Jenny. The lovebirds were kissing.
“How does that work?” Brooke asked curiously. ”How does any of that work?”
Lorenzo seemed happy and loopy in love in spite of the bickering. Elizabetta looked like she wanted to stomp on him some more, but Jenny could see she was warming up to him. There was no question those two belonged with each other.
Jenny wished she had that. Not the volatility, please. But the certainty. She wished for that with all her heart.
It was such a lovely late afternoon that the gathering moved from the golf course to the garden courtyard in front of the inn. Jenny helped Rosalyn round up some champagne and crystal flutes, as Lorenzo had announced that he and Elizabetta were getting married. There wasn’t a person among them who believed they’d actually make it to the altar without someone dying, but nevertheless, it was cause to celebrate. Rosalyn and Hugh rounded up Sandra and Ned, and they all came for a toast. Lorenzo’s brothers appeared, too, apparently back from the city. No one could seem to find Edan, however.
“You know what?” Vanessa said when they were on their third glass. She was draped across one of the benches, staring up at the turret. “I like it.” She glanced at Jenny. “I really like this inn.”
“Me too,” said Brooke. “I think it could be awesome.”
“You do?” Jenny asked, surprised and pleased.
“I do,” Vanessa said. “It’s quaint. And unique, like you, Jen. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”
Jenny smiled broadly. “What do you think, a portable outdoor b
ar here?” she asked, gesturing to an ivy-covered wall.
“Totally!” Brooke said.
Jenny was explaining her idea for a farm shop when Vanessa and Brooke’s gaze drifted past her. She turned around to see that Edan had come into the courtyard.
“Who is that?” Brooke whispered.
“Edan.”
Vanessa and Brooke gasped at the exact same moment, at the exact same volume.
Lorenzo, drunk on love, called out to Edan and gestured him over while Elizabetta stood there looking bored. “Come, come, meet the woman who will be my wife.”
“Si matto!” she said.
“He’s crazy,” Jenny translated to Vanessa and Brooke.
“Ah but you will marry me, mi amore,” Lorenzo said giddily.
Edan looked like he was walking the plank as he hesitantly walked into the group of Italians and met Elizabetta. He shook her hand, kept the conversation short. Then he looked around, his gaze landing on Jenny.
A shiver of lust ran through her. “Hey,” she said.
“Hello,” he said back.
Jenny stood up. “These are my friends, Brooke and Vanessa. And this is Edan Mackenzie, the proprietor of the inn.”
“Oh,” Vanessa said, practically falling over herself to extend her hand. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.
“I’ve heard that before,” Edan said.
“Your accent,” Brooke purred.
“Scottish,” he said. Edan was perfectly polite, very friendly. He chatted about the weather, and gave a brief history of the inn when Vanessa asked. They asked him about Scotland, and he talked about that, too. Jenny stood there like a dormouse, feeling awkward, unable to add anything to the conversation, her mind racing through all the things she wanted to say to Edan. Thanks for the hospitality. Oh, before you get on a plane, could you please explain what happened? Because we had such a great time in the sack…
“I need another drink,” Brooke said, wagging her empty flute. “Vanessa, come help me find one.”
“I’ll fetch it if you like,” Edan offered.
“Nope. Need the little girl’s room, too,” Brooke said, and grabbed Vanessa’s arm and made her stand. She smiled at Edan. “Very nice to meet you.” She dragged Vanessa into the inn.