Up to Me (Shore Secrets)

by Christi Barth

  “It’s your game,” he said, idly stirring in more cream. Yeah. Cream. Not skim, not half-assed two percent. If he was going to stay at a genuine castle, he’d use full-fledged cream in his coffee. Gray never stayed in one place long enough to have a trainer. He made up for it by pushing himself through a rigorous running regimen. Pumped weights when he could find them. Experience proved the exercise gave him extra energy. But mostly Gray watched his diet because he didn’t want to end up with his Uncle David’s gut in five years, or inherit his grandfather’s blown abdominal aortic aneurism in twenty years.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe it was because he’d do everything possible to outlive his father. To be there to watch when they eventually wheeled the bastard out through the electrified prison gates nailed into a pinewood box. And to finally be one hundred percent certain the long nightmare had ended.

  Ella curled her fingers back around her juice, pulling it closer. “My game? This isn’t a game, Gray. It’s a date.”

  Ah. It was all the more satisfying to string her up by her own rules. “Nope. No official ‘dating’,” he put finger quotes around the word, “till the town green-lights us, remember?” Wacky it might be, but he’d respect her request. “Which is why you suggested we ask each other questions that we’d never, ever ask on a first date.” Thank God. It meant she couldn’t ask him something predictable, like what he did for a living. And that put off lying to her on a whole other level just a little while longer.

  “Yes, but—”

  “You mentioned a prize for whoever came up with the best anti-date question.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Really? Cause you seemed like you were gunning for the win when you started with politics,” he reminded her. Gray had gotten a kick out of her fearless launch into that topic. “You asked me who I voted for in the last election.”

  Ella shook her head so fast that her ponytail smacked into the corner of her eye. She winced. “Politics themselves might be taboo on a first date. But asking about the election was a fairly mild question. The president did win by the biggest majority in decades. Chances were good, given our demographically similar ages, that we both voted for him. I didn’t blast you with pure shock value right off the top.”

  A fun argument could stir up the blood almost as much as a string of sexy promises. Gray preferred a woman who could go toe-to-toe with him. When Ella first told him about the mailbox arrangement, Gray had wondered if she’d turned into a pushover since...what did she call it? Disaster Day? But he’d only wondered for about two seconds.

  As Ella continued with her story it was clear that her choice to be backed up by the entire town was made from a place of strength, not weakness. An acknowledgement that she needed help during her darkest days. But it also seemed Ella never actually relinquished her control, her independence, despite their loving smothering. She still got up every day, went to work and made people feel better. She chose not to give up. Not to huddle in her bed every day wallowing in misery. This was a woman with a backbone forged of steel and sheer grit. And with a breathtaking smile Gray intended to nudge out of her as often as possible.

  “Oh, so you admit you tried to game me?” He leaned forward, hands braced on the edge of the green wrought iron table. “Planned to throw softballs until I caved and asked you something predictable and against the rules? Like the name of your movie star crush or your favorite boy band?”

  The moment she decided to change tactics, Gray knew. She telegraphed it with a tiny uptilt of her right eyebrow. If he hadn’t been staring at her eyes, trying to drink them in, trying to pinpoint their exact combination of green and yellow and caramel, then he would’ve missed it. However hotly she’d planned to deny ever crushing on a boy band—something he wouldn’t believe for a second—Gray knew that moment had passed.

  “It was a warm-up question.” She flicked it away. “I had to test and see if you were up to the challenge. I’ll admit, you impressed me when you lobbed right back with the one about the latest scandal at the Vatican.”

  And that had kept their conversation flying nonstop, if somewhat hotly, for at least half of breakfast. “Politics and religion. The two most awkward topics to ever discuss on a date.”

  “Well, we did start getting to know each other when I blurted out the tale of my parents’ tragic death. An argument about politics could only be a giant conversational step up from there.” Ella shook her head in a slow, regretful swing from side to side. “Clearly, I showed my hand too early. Should’ve saved the Disaster Day revelation for this morning.”

  So she’d recovered enough to joke about the tragedy that upended her life. Gray added resilient to her list of attributes. A list he shouldn’t be making. The list he should be making, the list his paycheck depended on, shone a different spotlight on Ella. The list for his job should have a big star at the top next to her name. Point out that she’d fallen to pieces once already when life turned to crap. By her own admission had turned her back on running the hotel. Statistically speaking, she could fall apart again. Which made him feel like a giant douchebag for even thinking about it.

  Gray knew she was the lynchpin to his entire recommendation. Come to think of it, Ella would probably be happier if someone else did own the hotel. She could tend to her massage clients without any other responsibilities scratching at her conscience. Taking ownership away might be the kindest thing he could do.

  Of course, if he pulled that trigger, Gray would bet not only his paycheck but his hefty, year-end bonus that she’d never bestow that sassy smile on him again. Which left him screwed no matter how he looked at it.

  He was in a sugar coma from breakfast. Little brown birds that sang like they’d had multiple starring roles in a cartoon perched on the hedge rimming the patio. And Ella looked a million times more delicious than the lip-smacking French toast. How was a guy supposed to formulate a plan in a place this idyllic? Instead, he pushed work to the side. Again. Along with the guilt that came with neglecting the entire reason for his visit to Mayhew Manor. Promised himself he’d buckle down as soon as she left to start her workday.

  For now, it was more fun to keep the game going. Gray mimicked the flat tone of a buzzer. “Strategic error. Dead parents would’ve netted you the win for sure. So with politics and religion out of the way, the list of possible topics never discussed on a first date is short. You can’t act all shocked at my question. The only thing left for me was sex. Never comes up on a first date. Unless you’re a hooker or a porn star.”

  She used her long, strong fingers to cover her mouth. But the telltale stretch of her grin showed at the edges. “Wow. You get bonus points for mentioning hookers and porn stars on our first official non-date date. You’re really going for the win.”

  “My competitive spirit knows no bounds.”

  “Fair enough.” Ella leaned back. Stretched out her legs so the skirt sheeted to the ground. Damn it. Now Gray was fantasizing about an actual sheet wrapped around her legs. The super soft one on his bed the color of a pale, green grape. With him underneath it. Wrapped around her. “But it’s my game, Gray. I invented it, even if I didn’t expect you to follow through. So I intend to win this inaugural match.”

  Too bad she was still ducking his official question. But he couldn’t wait to see what she thought could top it. After another swallow that almost drained his cup, Gray made a come-and-get-it wave of his fingers. “Bring it.”

  “Actual inches—not the inflated number that guys always brag about to each other—how long is your penis?”

  Yup. The automatic shocked virgin routine was gone. In its place was that playful spirit he’d glimpsed more than a couple of times already. And he still had at least three sips of coffee left, as predicted. Gray scooted back his chair. Angled it towards the lake, and spread his arms wide at shoulder height. “You’re welcome to come on over here and discove
r for yourself.”

  A burble of laughter escaped her lips. Then, with obviously fake nonchalance, Ella made a show of looking at her wristwatch. Something silver and elegant. Probably a graduation gift from her doting parents. Whereas the only thing Gray got at his high school graduation was his face splashed over the tabloids as the son of a convicted sexual deviant. Oh well. It was far from the first sign that his father hadn’t ever bothered to think about how his actions affected his family. In the grand scheme of how his father screwed up their lives, a forgotten graduation present barely made a blip.

  “Why, look at that—it’s almost time for my first massage. Sorry, Gray. We’ll have to continue this later.” Ella bounded out of her chair with a smile brighter than the diamonds of sunlight on the water almost blinding him. She leaned down to drop a kiss on his forehead. “How about we call this one a tie?”

  “If it’s a tie, then we both win. And I’m claiming my prize right now.” He grabbed Ella’s waist to twist her backwards down onto his lap. One hand cradled her back. The other turned her face just enough to ensure her lips met his.

  Gray kept it sweet. And PG. He knew heads inside were probably turning all the way around like owls to catch the show. If by some miracle none of the guests recognized Ella, the staff certainly did. He didn’t want to smear her reputation. All he wanted was a taste. The sweetness he’d drink off of her to sustain him through the day. So he didn’t tease her mouth open. Didn’t plunge inside. Tried desperately not to think about how the tight roundness of her ass rubbed against the inseam of his jeans.

  So he kept the pressure light. More of a feathering than a full-blown kiss. Just enough to kick-start the heat between them. Just enough to notice the soft give to her lips. The faint stickiness from the maple syrup that led Gray to lick all along the top and then sweep back across the bottom. The way she leaned into his body when he nipped at the full swell of her lower lip. How her hair slid through his fingers to brush against his cheek.

  And God almighty, he noticed the way his blood instantly heated at her touch. Not just where they touched, but all through his body. Heat that Gray tamped down immediately. If they couldn’t officially date yet, he sure as hell couldn’t nuzzle his way down her neckline to explore the creamy perfection of her breasts. Well, at least, not at breakfast. Behind closed doors was another matter. A plan he’d have to formulate ASAP. The illicit thrill of sneaking around would add a kick of fun. Not that he and Ella needed any help in the sparks department. That was as about as necessary as following a shot of Jäger with a chaser of Everclear.

  So he smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone. Eased back with a sigh of regret. Heard a matching whisper of a sign from Ella. “Okay. Now you can go to work,” he declared.

  “What? Don’t I get to claim my prize?” She ran her hand down the front of his Red Bulls jersey. Very suggestively. Gray would go so far as to say with purpose. That purpose evidently being to push him to the edge. Ella bent her head as though to kiss his neck. But all he felt was the swish of her ponytail as she twisted away, up and out of his embrace.

  “Go ahead. I’m all yours,” he said. With only a tiny flicker of guilt. Okay, a stabbing zing of guilt. How long would he be able to keep Ella the woman separate from Ella Mayhew the owner he might put out of business?

  “I’ll keep that in mind. But I think I’ll savor the anticipation for a while.” She grabbed a sweater striped with two shades of purple from the back of the chair. “You might want to swing by the mailbox if you get a chance. Find out if the town’s weighed in yet. Otherwise, meet me back here for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “It’s a date...or not,” Gray corrected himself.

  “Exactly.” Ella hurried into the castle with a wave and a laugh. Gray sucked in a lungful of air perfumed with whatever the flowering trees were on the property. Might be cherry or apple. Not that he’d be around long enough to find out. But they’d sure looked pretty as he jogged underneath them yesterday. Way better than running on a treadmill in a tiny basement hotel gym.

  The chair recently vacated by Ella scraped across stone as a tall, elderly man dropped his weight into it with a huff. “Mind if I join you?”

  “I was just leaving.” Gray started to rise. This wasn’t a B & B. He had no intention of getting stuck making small talk with some retiree on vacation. His agenda was jam packed with a second big day of wandering down Main Street to see what dirt he could dig up on Mayhew Manor. Assess how the townspeople really felt about it—and how they might feel about something bigger and better. “You can have the table.”

  “It isn’t the table I’m interested in getting to know.” He waved Gray back into his seat with a liver-spotted hand. Then extended it to Gray. “Sorry it took me this long to welcome you to the Manor, Mr. Locke.”

  “How do you know my name?” The question came out a little harsher than Gray intended. But that was his knee-jerk animosity to what was probably just small town friendliness. He far preferred big-city anonymity. It made his job easier. It also didn’t give him a flashback to his hometown that always brought with it the special, gut-churning nausea of shame.

  “Oh, I know everyone’s name.” A genial chuckle. “I’m Eugene Shalitsky, the general manager for this fine establishment.”

  Gray crumpled up his mental agenda. Three-pointed it straight into the trash can. Far better to stay right here and dig a pickax into the gold mine of information Fate just sat at his table. “Nice to meet you. Quite a place you’ve got here.”

  “Oh, it’s not mine. I think of myself as a caretaker for the owner. And also a caretaker of the owner. If you get my drift.”

  He sure did. The closest thing Ella had left to a father figure had just watched Gray get up close and real personal with her. It felt weird, at best. “You saw us. Just now.”

  “Indeed.”

  Great. Was Grandpa here to kick his proverbial ass? “You’ve got a problem with it?”

  “Indeed not.” The man flattened his palms on the fanciful scrollwork that made up the arms of the chair. “I’m grateful to you for putting some color back in Ella’s cheeks. She hasn’t looked at a man the way she looks at you in quite some time.”

  Whoa. It felt even weirder for Eugene to thank him for putting the moves on her. Gray shifted in his chair. What was he supposed to say to that—my pleasure?

  “She’s a special girl.” Lame. Stupid. Thinking on his feet, having an answer at the ready for anything was one of his biggest job requirements. He must be off his game because the topic was personal, not professional.

  “Quite so. It’s been my distinct pleasure to work with first her parents, and then Ella.” Eugene put a hand to the side of his mouth and leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. Gray was all for secrets. Of the business variety. The personal kind, he didn’t want to get near. And he had the feeling Eugene wasn’t about to share with him the guest retention rate or per-room profit margin. Sure enough, Eugene dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Although the past few years have comprised more work than I’d bargained for, I don’t mind telling you.”

  Obviously. But shouldn’t he mind? Opening up like this about his boss to a complete stranger? One whose only apparent knowledge of Ella was how to make her moan over muffins? The weird factor jacked up about two hundred percent. Gray cleared his throat. “Sorry. I feel like I missed half the conversation. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want to thank you for dragging Ella out of her hole. We’ve all tried, and gotten her close to back to normal. Looks like you just might be the one who gets her across that finish line.”

  Yeah. Or he might be the one responsible for Ruffano & McIntosh Holdings snaking the property out from under her. The one to shoulder the burden of taking away the only legacy left by her dead parents. Guilt swamped him again, suffocating him. He reached reflexively for the coffee he’d already drained. No help
there. Damn. Getting out of here—and getting coffee—moved to the top of his priority list. The white-haired manager might be trying to build Gray a pedestal, but he had a hammer full of reality he wasn’t afraid to wield.

  “Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t know me. At all.” Clearly this misplaced conviction was a symptom of that stupid, small-town trust Gray so detested. The kind of trust that led people to believe nothing bad could ever happen in their town. The kind of trust that kept doors unbolted and windows unlocked. Trust like that made it easy for monsters to get you. Didn’t Eugene worry about the wrong kind of guy latching on to the very pretty, sweet, and wealthy-on-paper Ella? Because he damn well should.

  “I know she’s taken with you, Mr. Locke.”

  Jesus. Gray slammed his lids closed so Eugene wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. Who knew the bleeding heart of a true romantic lay under the crisply ironed shirt with the hotel logo embroidered in burgundy across the pocket? “For all you know, I could be all kinds of trouble for Ella. I could break her heart.”

  “Her heart’s already been shattered into a thousand pieces by the death of her parents. Amazingly, it got stronger when it knitted back together. She just hasn’t put it to the test yet.” He leaned forward again, his oddly amiable smile fixed in place as he patted Gray’s knee. “I’ve got a good sense about folks. It’s never steered me wrong.”

  “Well, trust me, I don’t want to hurt Ella.” There. Absolute truth. No promises made, though.

  “See? I knew it.” Beaming with satisfaction, Eugene eased back into the chair with a wince. “Damned hip. I climbed the stairs to the tower four times yesterday. That was three-and-a-half times too many for my bursitis.”