Lost in You

by Jules Bennett

  Liam rolled out the dough that would become a cherry cheese Danish. Brock sat across the center island, ready for some advice. He’d come straight to the resort after school and apparently Liam was the chosen one to spill those teenage insecurities to.

  “I’m the last person you should seek relationship advice from.” Liam tried not to take his frustrations and anger out on the dough, but past memories threatened to destroy the pastry he was forming. “You’re better off asking Zach or Braxton.”

  Brock shook his head. “Nah. They’re getting married. I don’t want to get married. I just want to know whether or not I should ask Alli on a date.”

  Liam glanced across the counter to the teen. That look in his eye seemed so familiar. The confusion, the sliver of hope in what could happen if he pushed the panic aside and went after what he wanted. Liam had been so much like Brock at that age. Brock was a mix of all the Monroe brothers and the boy wasn’t even remotely related to any of them. Yet fate had brought them all together, sending them each on a path that led to this moment.

  Last year when Brock was discovered homeless and living in the resort, which was in the midst of renovations, Zach had instantly taken him in. Through the proper legal means, Brock was no longer a runaway from an abusive father and was now surrounded by a family who loved him as their own. They’d all come from various places, so they understood the need for security, for some sense of stability.

  And though Liam was honestly the dead last person to offer his opinion in regard to women, he couldn’t ignore Brock’s questioning gaze.

  “If you want to go on a date, ask her.” Liam resumed rolling out the dough, making sure to get the edges nice and even with the middle.

  “It’s more than a date,” Brock muttered. “It’s the prom.”

  Hell. Prom. Liam recalled his prom night. He’d only been worried about how to maneuver his date out of her dress. Damn it. Teenage hormones were definitely not an area he wanted to venture into. That would be a hell of a lot worse than relationships.

  “Then ask her to the prom. It’s just a dance.”

  “To chicks, the prom is everything. I don’t care about a dance—I just want a date and I heard she and her boyfriend broke up, so she doesn’t have a date.”

  High school days. Liam wouldn’t go back if someone paid him. Between still trying to cope with the loss of his mother, living with the Monroes, and just being a teenage boy with all the pressures of that age, Liam had absolutely hated that time in his life.

  “Then if she’s free, sounds like the perfect time to ask.”

  Brock’s finger traced the marble pattern on the quartz counter. “What if she says no?”

  Liam withheld the sigh. Were teenage boys always this fearful? Liam may have hated those days, but he’d also had a chip on his shoulder when he’d been a teen. But in Brock’s defense, the boy’s father was an ass. He’d belittled Brock for so long, the poor kid was just learning what it was like to have a support team.

  “What if she says yes?” Liam countered without looking up. “What if you guys go out and you have the best time and she wants to see you again?”

  “I have no clue,” Brock snorted. “I’m still working on the first date and you’ve already got me on the second.”

  Liam laughed and reached for the bowl of flour. Spreading a light coating onto his rolling pin, he eyed Brock. “Have you always been this nervous about asking a girl out?”

  Brock’s bright eyes drifted to the floor. He gave a slight shrug. “I’ve never asked a girl out before.”

  Well, great. Nothing like making him feel even more insecure. Brock had been living with Zach and Sophie for a year and Liam had been in Savannah for the majority of that time. He’d just assumed Brock would’ve gone out and had more of a social life. Perhaps they were more alike than Liam first thought.

  “I mean, I’ve been with groups and we’ve done stuff, but I’ve never flat-out asked a girl to go on a date.”

  This was a total game changer. Setting his rolling pin on the counter, Liam rested his hands on the surface and leaned forward. “Listen, when you ask her make sure you are confident. Even if you have to fake it.”

  Brock blew out a sigh and came to his feet. “Why do guys always have to do the asking?” he muttered as he searched the cabinet for food. He ended up grabbing a bag of BBQ chips and settled back down on his stool.

  “I know of women who ask guys out.” Liam was leaving it at that because his ex had found it rather easy to ask quite a few guys out while they were still together. “But if you ask, that shows you’re taking charge and confident.”

  Brock shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. Liam watched as the crumbs fell onto the counter. “Um . . . I’m working here.”

  With a mouthful, Brock stopped chewing, muttered an apology, and swiped the crumbs onto the floor.

  “Great. I needed you to sweep and mop today anyway,” Zach stated as he entered the kitchen, the screen door slamming at his back.

  Brock groaned and took his bag of chips to the other side of the kitchen, thankfully away from the dough. The last thing Liam needed was a BBQ-flavored Danish. He turned to the industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerator and pulled out the container of filling he’d mixed up earlier.

  “So what’s this about Macy spending the night at your place?”

  Liam nearly dropped the bowl, but managed to get it onto the counter before turning to glare at Zach. Damn it. With a crooked grin and a quirked brow, his brother leaned against the island. Whatever the hell Zach was trying to start, Liam needed to put a stop to it. The last thing he needed was damn gossip spreading about what he and Macy definitely were not doing.

  “You told me you shouldn’t give advice on women and you had one sleep over last night?” Brock accused, suddenly not concerned about shoveling in the chips.

  Zach glanced between the two. “You went to him for advice?”

  And this was just one of the many reasons Liam missed his job in Savannah. The large, posh restaurant had so many employees and they were so swamped, nobody had time to stand around and chitchat like teenage girls. Besides that, nobody cared. He’d always done his job and gone home. End of story.

  Now that he was back, suddenly everyone wanted to know about his business . . . and his overnight guest, which sounded so much more interesting than what truly happened.

  Liam jerked the sealed lid off the filling. “She came by the store late last night to do some work, she got a migraine, and couldn’t drive. That’s all.”

  Brock snorted in disbelief.

  “Don’t you have floors to clean?” Liam growled.

  “They’re not going anywhere.”

  Yeah, Brock fit in perfect in the family with his quick wit and snarky comebacks. Damn if Liam wasn’t proud that the kid felt so at home here he could just be himself.

  But Zach wasn’t easing up. He continued to stare, waiting on more of an explanation. Damn nosy family. And Liam loved them. He couldn’t help but love this crazy bunch—he just wished he had some privacy.

  “You can stand there all day,” Liam told his brother. “But that’s the entire story. How did you know, anyway?”

  “Ran by Knobs and Knockers earlier. I asked Macy if she was feeling all right. She just didn’t seem like herself.”

  Liam scooped the filling onto the dough. Stubborn woman was going to make herself worse if she didn’t slow down. How did she expect to keep going when she was clearly burning both ends of the day trying to prove she could handle the store? She could more than handle it or her father wouldn’t have entrusted it to her. But she was determined to kill herself to prove a point.

  Liam had been up all night because he was afraid she’d need something and wouldn’t tell him. He randomly went to the bedroom door to check on her, but each time he checked, she was sleeping peacefully, her dark hair fanned all around her, all over his sheets.

  He hadn’t had a woman in his bed in way too long. Macy shouldn’t keep pullin
g him in, but she did without even trying.

  Liam had left at six a.m. and tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t figure she wanted an early morning encounter any more than he did. He couldn’t imagine if they’d actually had sex because this morning after had been awkward enough.

  And why was he thinking sex anyway? He told himself not to put sex and Macy in the same sentence . . . not even in his own mind.

  But he was a guy, so . . .

  “I’m not her keeper,” Liam growled. He couldn’t make her do anything, except last night when she’d been too sick to drive. And she would’ve tried to drive herself home had he not stopped her. He scooped more filling, leaving drops between the bowl and the dough. “She’s a big girl.”

  “Maybe she needs someone to check on her,” Zach suggested, reaching across to swipe the filling off the counter and lick it off his finger.

  On a sigh, Liam faced his brother. “Spit it out. Whatever you’re hinting at, just say it.”

  “He wants you to go see Macy,” Brock stated.

  Zach shrugged. “I’m just saying that she’s always looking after her dad, looking after the store, and never dates the same guy twice from what I’ve seen. That tells me maybe nobody has taken time to get to know her and actually care for her.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Liam really, really didn’t want to have this conversation, but he also needed to clear the air and get this out so they could move on. “I’m not looking for a date, a girlfriend, or whatever the hell else you’re thinking. I’m here for you guys and to work. That’s all. Don’t try to dig deeper into my life.”

  Zach started to reach across, this time for the bowl. Liam moved it away just in time.

  “Get out of my kitchen.”

  “You’ll make a shitty housewife. You won’t share and you don’t communicate,” Zach said.

  Liam gritted his teeth and counted backward from one hundred. He made it to ninety-eight.

  “Just because you fell in love, don’t go around playing matchmaker.” Turning his attention back to the job he was here to do, he added, “Both of you out. Brock, I’ll be done in an hour and you can come back and clean the floor. Why don’t you two go discuss Brock’s female problems, because I don’t have any and am not in the mood to talk.”

  “Mom is cranky today,” Brock whispered.

  Zach’s laugh filled the spacious room. “She didn’t get any sleep last night because of her roommate.”

  “Out,” Liam yelled, pointing his spatula toward the door.

  “Kind of hard to sound and look like you have authority when there’s icing dripping on the floor,” Zach said around his laugh.

  Brock groaned. “Aw, man. I have to clean that.”

  Liam jerked the spoon again, sending another glob onto the ceramic tile. “I can keep going.”

  Brock grabbed the bag of chips and headed out the back door.

  Zach started to follow, but froze in the doorway. “Seriously, man. Check on her.”

  Liam turned his back on his brother and ignored that niggling of guilt that pushed through him. He didn’t want to form any extra feelings, didn’t want to care about anyone else. His plate was full. He’d cared for one woman before—had gotten close, too close. Then he’d been taken for a fool. That experience had sucked out the little bit of his soul he’d rebuilt after all he’d been through. Attempting to feel again could very well destroy him.

  But he did care for Macy no matter what he kept telling himself, and he didn’t have to be a jerk. He could call her and see how she was doing, see if she needed . . . what? What exactly could he do for her? They weren’t precisely friends, let alone anything more.

  And he was leaving. So no commitments. None. No matter how much he was drawn to his sexy landlord.

  Liam finished putting the Danish together and popped them into one of the two wall ovens. All he could do was call and check on her. Anything beyond that wasn’t an option. Liam didn’t have time for more, didn’t want to make the time, because he refused to ever have his emotions or his heart used against him again.

  * * *

  By the end of the day Macy felt nearly human again. The headache was gone, but she was utterly exhausted. She flipped off the flashing OPEN sign—a sign she’d had to talk her father into getting because he was still turning over the old plastic one that clanged against the door every time someone would enter or exit. Just as she headed toward the door to lock up, a familiar face popped in.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  Macy smiled at her old high school softball coach, Diane Davis. “Of course. Flick that lock, though.”

  Diane closed and locked the door, then moved closer to the counter. As always when Macy saw her, Diane was dressed for practice. Today was no different; she wore a pair of track pants and a T-shirt with the school logo on the front.

  “I was hoping to catch you when you closed so we wouldn’t be disturbed. Is this okay?”

  Intrigued, Macy nodded. “Absolutely. Is something wrong?”

  Diane would pop in now and then and Macy would see her at the grocery. Haven was a small town after all, but she’d never stopped after hours to talk. During Macy’s high school days, she tended to see Diane more than her own family. Practice and traveling for games made them close, more friends than just a coach and a player. Diane had even made it a point to go to a couple of Macy’s college games . . . before her year was cut short.

  “Not at all,” Diane assured, then gestured toward the register. “Don’t let me keep you. If you need to do other things, I can talk while you close out.”

  Waving a hand, Macy replied, “Come on back to my tiny office. I’m in no hurry to add up credit slips.”

  Macy led the way through the narrow aisle with screws and bolts and headed toward her office. Her eyes glanced to the stairs and an instant image of Liam carrying her flooded her mind. Not that he’d been far from her thoughts today, especially when Zach had stopped in and mentioned that she looked tired.

  Without thinking, Macy had mentioned that she’d slept upstairs last night, but another customer had come up to the counter and she’d gotten busy before she could fully explain. Then Zach left and she had no doubt that he went to Liam for the scoop.

  Only there was no scoop, only humiliation and embarrassment and leftover questions as to what was happening between them. She could guess by the passion she’d seen in his eyes and the shield he quickly put up whenever she tried to delve deeper that someone had hurt him; she would bet anything on that. And she didn’t think it was the accident that had left the deepest wound, either. The emotions running within him were just as jagged as the marring on his face.

  Later Macy would call and thank him, even though she would have liked to ignore everything that had happened and just move on. Clearly moving on and ignoring what Liam stirred within her wasn’t an option. Besides, he didn’t have to be so compassionate last night. He could’ve helped her to her truck like she’d requested and let her wait the pain out on her own.

  Macy pulled out the step stool she kept in the corner and took a seat on it, gesturing toward her rickety desk chair for Diane. “Have a seat and tell me what’s up.”

  The chair squeaked and groaned as Diane settled in. Macy leaned against the wall and waited to hear why this conversation was so important that her old coach needed privacy.

  “I’m retiring after this season,” she began.

  Macy smiled. “That’s wonderful. You’ve devoted so many years, you deserve some time to yourself. Wait . . . you’re not sick or something, are you?”

  Diane shook her head and rested her elbow on the desk. “No, no. Just tired, and I think a younger, more energetic coach is needed.”

  When Diane only continued to stare, then raised her brows, Macy finally realized what this talk was about. “Me?”

  “I don’t know of anyone more qualified.”

  Macy could name about five people off the top of her head. She hadn’t touched a bat, glove, or bal
l since she left college midseason after winning a big game against their main rival. She’d actually burned her uniform when she returned home after her mother passed. Her father had been in his own state of grief and she never wanted him, or anyone for that matter, to know her secret. She’d handled everything herself, but she just didn’t know if she could ever revisit the sport she’d once loved more than anything else.

  “Oh, Diane, I’m flattered, but—”

  “Don’t say no.” She held up a hand and leaned forward in the creaky old chair. “I’m not looking for an answer today. You have some time and I haven’t told anyone I’m retiring. I wanted to discuss this with you because I know you’ll be great. I didn’t want to let the board know yet, because I didn’t want them to post the position.”

  Macy’s mind was spinning, something she couldn’t physically afford at the moment. “Surely there’s a teacher who wants to coach.”

  Diane had stopped teaching high school math two years ago, but stayed on as the softball coach. She was loved by students and parents. She demanded respect, but the adoration she had for every child she worked with showed. She always had a winning team because the determination and hard work she instilled in her players invariably paid off. Regardless of who replaced her, the school would feel that void.

  Diane definitely had some big shoes to fill. Macy wasn’t even sure if she could fill small shoes at this point.

  “I doubt there’s a willing teacher,” Diane replied. “I’ve hinted for several months that I may start to slow down and nobody seems eager to step into my place.”

  “Because nobody can run that program like you do.”

  Diane beamed. “That’s sweet of you to say, but it’s time. My husband wants to travel, and to be honest, I do, too. We want to get an RV and just drive. I want to see the country while I’m still young enough to go on adventures.”

  Macy wanted that for her, but to actually agree to apply for the position of softball coach was quite a leap. A leap Macy never intended on taking. She couldn’t explain to Diane why her love of the sport had been tarnished.

  “Are you retiring no matter what my decision is?” Macy asked.