by Noelle Adams
“Laurel,” Andrew gritted out, for the first time looking annoyed. “Would you stop being so foolishly stubborn? You need to lie down. I’m not going to let you—”
“You don’t get to make this decision.” Her voice was sharp but not angry. She didn’t have the energy. “If I want to be foolish, then I can be foolish. It’s my decision to make.”
He looked like he wanted to object. In fact, one hand came up as if he were going to put it on her back to help her walk. But he restrained himself. He didn’t say anything as she walked slowly back into the main room.
Unfortunately, he also didn’t go away. He maneuvered a small table in the back corner, and he sat there with his back to the wall. He ordered a beer, and he accepted a refill when it was gone. He got a third beer as well, but this one he only occasionally sipped. She assumed he’d gotten it so they wouldn’t kick him out of the table.
She worked with as much focus as she could, and she didn’t look over at him except to check the state of his glass. She could feel him watching her, though.
It could have been creepy, but it was more confusing than anything else. She didn’t know why he was here at all. She didn’t know if he still hated her, if he wanted some sort of closure, or if he was just as lost and bewildered as she was.
The two hours were the longest of her life. Her back was so bad she would have gone home early if Andrew hadn’t been there watching, but some sort of irrational stubbornness prompted her to stay to the end of her shift. Her feelings were in such turmoil that she miscounted change twice and brought someone coffee instead of ouzo.
The two hours finally ended. When she limped out the back door of the tavern, Andrew was waiting for her.
She accepted the supporting arm he offered, mostly because she so desperately needed it. He didn’t say anything except to ask where she was staying.
She pointed out the low-rent lodging house, and they walked in silence for three blocks until they’d reached her room. He took the key from her and opened the door.
It was tiny—with room only for a bed that was even smaller than a twin, a straight chair, and a narrow table. She didn’t mind the room, since she just slept and got dressed there, but Andrew seemed too big for it. His broad shoulders and long limbs filled the tiny space.
He helped her lie down on the bed, and she kicked off her shoes and took off her apron. “Do you have something you can take for the pain?” he asked.
“On the shelf there. The prescription.” She had to take it this evening, or she’d never be able to get up for work the next day.
He gave her the pill with the half-empty bottle of water from the table. She leaned up enough to swallow it. Then she said, “Thank you” and closed her eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
His voice was coming from a strange place, so she opened her eyes to see. Instead of near the door, on his way out, he was sitting in the one chair in the room.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll stay for a few minutes. To make sure you’re all right.”
Logically, this seemed ridiculous to her, but emotionally it made her feel like crying again.
He might be a billionaire playboy. He might have lived hard for years, having sex with women up and down two continents and risking his life with idiot stunts. He might have believed the absolute worst about her and betrayed her hard-given trust. But there was a sweetness at the core of him that he spent most of his time trying to hide.
She closed her eyes, so he wouldn’t see they were swimming in tears. She breathed deeply to relax her back. Occasionally, she heard him shift in his chair. Sometimes she heard him breathe. Soon the medication started to help, dulling her senses, making her head spin. She had to keep it perfectly still so she wouldn’t get dizzy. She didn’t dare open her eyes or the ceiling might be moving.
She hadn’t intended to sleep, but she must have. When she woke up, it was dark in the room. She moved too quickly, jarring her back. The room still spun around her. She was momentarily terrified and cried out without thinking, “Andrew!”
She never really thought he’d still be there to answer.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice getting closer as he spoke. “I’m right here.”
She felt his hand on her face, brushing her hair back. He must be kneeling beside the bed now. She was so confused and so shatteringly relieved to feel his presence that she started to cry.
“Don’t,” Andrew murmured. “Baby, please don’t.”
She cried even harder. She hated it. Hated feeling so absolutely helpless and so utterly dependent—after trying all her life not to be that way.
She had no idea what was happening or why Andrew was even here, but she choked out the truth in the dark. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Andrew.”
There wasn’t an answer immediately—just his big, rough hand stroking her face. She closed her eyes because she felt better. She liked that he was so close. She liked that he hadn’t left her. It felt like she could trust him again, although she wasn’t quite sure why.
It might have been the fuzziness of medication, emotion, and exhaustion. Maybe she fell asleep and just dreamed the last words she heard.
But she thought she heard him say, “I’m sorry too.”
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Laurel woke up to find herself alone.
She wasn’t surprised. Andrew couldn’t have spent the whole night in that uncomfortable chair. She wasn’t even disappointed. He’d been there when she’d needed him, in spite of everything.
She sat up slowly, relieved to discover her back was sore but not agonizingly painful. She could move all right.
She went into work for another long day, but she left early when her back got too bad in the middle of the evening.
By the following morning, she knew what she needed to do.
The sun was just rising when she went outside. She walked through the village, stopping in a shop to buy yogurt and a chunk of bread for breakfast. Then she found a bench with a decent view and sat down to eat.
When she was finished, she stopped by the tavern, and the owner—who was there taking a delivery—was happy to let her use the computer. By nine o’clock, which was as early as she felt comfortable appearing, she had everything ready.
She headed over to the inn.
She’d been going over most mornings anyway—usually first thing—so she could see the dogs, Agatha, and Hector before her first shift at work started at lunchtime. But this morning she wasn’t wearing shorts and a tank top. She was wearing the only decent outfit she’d taken with her when she left—a tailored brown pants suit.
Hector was pulling weeds from the beds near the entrance when she walked down the stairs. He looked up and waved, not appearing to notice how unusually she was dressed.
“He’s here,” Hector said. “He came Saturday. He’s better, I think. Agatha thinks so too.”
“What do you mean, he’s better?”
“He’s better. You go see him.”
She would have liked some more information, but a glance told her no further information was forthcoming. So she took a deep breath and went through the main doors to the lobby.
She had no idea where Andrew was.
It seemed a little rude to just wander around, when the inn didn’t belong to her anymore. It didn’t hurt quite as much to look around at the familiar walls and furnishings as it had when she’d come by during the last two weeks.
She still loved this inn, but she had more important things to do this morning.
She checked the kitchen first and was relieved to find Agatha pounding out dough as usual. As soon as Laurel entered, Agatha said, “Good. You’re here. He’s in the office.”
Laurel felt a little flustered at the obscure way she was greeted, but she was here to see Andrew so she walked dutifully to the office.
She knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He was working at the desk, dressed casually i
n a t-shirt and shorts, with his hair just as rumpled as ever. The dogs were in the office with him—Circe and Persephone stretched out on the tile floor and Theo draped across a large pillow that Andrew must have put down for him.
Laurel was so touched at seeing her dogs sprawled out around the office with Andrew that she froze, momentarily forgetting her carefully planned strategy.
The dogs jumped up in excitement to greet her, and she leaned over to stroke and hug them.
Andrew obviously wasn’t expecting her because, as soon as he’d glanced over, he jumped out of his chair.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Be careful of your back. Theo, no. Sit.”
Theo hadn’t appreciated the attention she was paying to the ladies and was jumping up in a way that might further strain his leg, but he obediently sat and thumped his tail, waiting for Laurel to get to him. He was still limping, but the leg was improving every day.
When the dogs had been properly greeted, she brushed some of the dog hair off her suit and looked over at Andrew self-consciously.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again, something almost hesitant in his eyes.
She cleared her throat. “I understood you were interviewing for staff this week. I would like to apply for the job as manager.” She handed him the résumé she’d put together this morning on the computer at the tavern.
Andrew looked at the piece of paper. Then looked back up at her.
“May I,” she asked at last, “have an interview?”
She wasn’t sure she had ever felt so vulnerable, so completely exposed. He could hurt her. He could reject her. And it wouldn’t just be her pride that was broken.
But she loved him. If this was the risk she had to take to make things better, then it was one she was going to take. Even if they could never be together, at least she could make him understand.
“Yes,” he said at last. He waved in the general direction of the chair across from the desk.
She sat down, sliding her purse to the floor, pushing Circe’s nose out of the way, and then folding her hands on her lap almost primly. Her heart beat wildly.
Andrew looked down at the résumé.
“As you can see,” she said, just slightly hoarse, after a minute of letting him read, “I have quite a bit of management experience.”
“In West Virginia,” he said slowly, his eyes still focused on the piece of paper, “You managed a…”
“A gentlemen’s entertainment venue. A strip club.”
“And before that you worked as a waitress there?”
“Yes. I waited tables for two years.”
Andrew’s brow furrowed as he looked from her to the résumé. “Wait. It says you started working there in… That would mean you were…”
“Seventeen.”
His green eyes shot up to meet hers.
“I had a fake ID. I needed a job.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mom died. My dad left before I was born,” she said. “There were almost no opportunities in that county. The only way to make any real money without any sort of education was at that bar.”
He nodded, nothing judgmental in his face. In fact, she thought she saw something like sympathy. It made her uncomfortable, but she forced herself to work through it.
“Did you,” he began, stopping and starting again. “I don’t see any other jobs on your résumé during those years.”
She met his eyes. “That’s the only job I had.”
“I see.”
She thought he believed her, but just to be sure, she added, “The local sheriff in my town—he came onto me pretty strong. I turned him down flat. He never forgave me and tried to make trouble for me whenever he could.”
Andrew’s lips twisted into a faint sneer, but she understood it was directed at the sheriff and not at her.
She couldn’t help but feel reassured by what the look implied.
He glanced back down at the résumé. “Then it looks like you got married.”
“Yes. I fell for him, partly because he was so different from the men I was used to. He’d recently inherited an inn on Santorini. It was like a dream come true for me.”
“Did anything make you wonder about the stability of his finances and investments?”
She shook her head. “He kept everything from me. I never paid much attention to the rest of his business, since the inn was what I cared about. He gave that to me.”
“It was a first-anniversary gift?”
She shook her head and looked down. “It was a wedding gift. I thought that sounded bad, like it was payment for services rendered. So I told you it was an anniversary gift. It was wrong. But I really thought he gave it to me just as a present. I didn’t know there was any ulterior motive regarding creditors.”
It hurt that Jerry would have done that—that the gift wasn’t an expression of love as much a convenient way to cover his ass—but she’d lost any romantic notions about her husband a long time ago.
Andrew had been looking at her, but now he looked down again. She noticed that the hand holding the sheet of paper shook a little before he clenched it.
She suddenly realized she wasn’t the only one who was uncertain, who wasn’t quite sure what she was doing here and if she was doing it right.
She wanted to reach over and wrap her arms around him, but she didn’t.
“I see.” He was still speaking impersonally, but it wasn’t how he was feeling. “So you managed the inn for several years?”
“Yes. I thought it was mine the whole time. I never questioned it. So when a, uh, large corporation claimed ownership, I couldn’t believe them. I thought they were trying to cheat me because I was all alone and a widow. It was everything I had. My whole life. I was desperate.”
He was looking at her steadily, but both of his hands were clenched now.
“I had a plan, to try to get some sort of advantage from the person they sent to handle the situation. He was a stranger, and I thought he was here to take away everything I had. So I flattened my own tire as the first step toward getting leverage against his family. I gave up on that plan almost immediately. There was no way I could use him, or myself, that way. But I did lie.”
“For how long?” His voice was hoarse now.
“Just the first day or two. And I’m so sorry for that.”
“It was just at the beginning?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were filling with tears now, despite her attempts to stay professional and matter-of-fact. “I couldn’t keep lying. Everything after the first day or two was real.”
Andrew took a rough breath and rubbed his scalp with the fingers of one hand. He wasn’t looking her in the eye now.
She sat up straight, since her back was getting sore again. “So that’s my interview. That’s the whole truth. I hope you’ll consider me for the job.”
She wanted so much more than the job, but manager of her inn was infinitely better than what she currently had. Her dogs could stay in their home, and she could still work with Agatha and Hector.
If she couldn’t have Andrew, she could learn to be happy with that.
He was silent for several long seconds, staring at that spot on the desk.
Laurel had thought it would be easier once she got everything said, but it wasn’t. It seemed to be hanging in the air now—all of her naked vulnerability and everything she was risking.
Finally, Andrew said, “I see. Thank you.”
He still looked oddly disconnected, as if he weren’t quite steady on his mental feet. He looked like he needed a hug.
She wished she could be the one to give it to him.
Surely he knew she wanted more than just a job.
“Andrew,” she began, her voice cracking embarrassingly.
He turned to look at her, almost urgently.
She opened her mouth, but all that came out was, “Thank you again.”
Andrew hesitated. Then asked, “Do you want to see the renovations I�
�m planning?” He stood up without warning.
“Sure.”
She wasn’t really sure she wanted to see them. If he was planning to change her beloved inn too much, it would be hard to watch. She didn’t want him to think she was pouting or holding a grudge, however, so she followed him willingly as he picked up a stack of what looked like architectural renderings and led her to the entryway terrace.
When he unfolded the first page, she smothered a feeling of dread, since the rendering drawn on the large sheet looked entirely different than the present design.
“We had to do something about the stairs. They’re not just uninviting—they could be dangerous. So, look, I figured we could build out the stairs here to make them wider and lessen the grade. Then, if we knock out some of that rock there, we can construct a rather compact handicap ramp—so it would be fully accessible.”
His mood had changed. He looked almost excited now—like a boy—and she couldn’t help but smile in response and make murmuring noises of affirmation.
The change made practical sense, and she might have done it herself if she ever had the mountain of money it would take for such major construction. She certainly could give up the rock face and the steep, narrow stairs leading down to the entry.
But she dreaded learning what else he’d planned to change about her inn.
He went back into the lobby and told her he was going to expand it so there would be a much larger sitting area with foldaway doors that led out to the terrace overlooking the caldera.
“That’s a great idea. I always wanted to do it. But what about the office?”
“We would just move it to the guestroom on this floor.”
“Oh.” She looked around. It made sense from a certain standpoint, but…
“Just say it.”
“There are few enough guestrooms as it is. To give one up…” She trailed off again. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
He laughed and didn’t look at all offended. “I’ve got that covered. We’re actually getting a lot more guestrooms.”
Frowning, she followed him out and around to the next building, and he pulled out the next sheet of paper. When it looked like he was going to drop the others, she retrieved the folded stack from under his arm.