An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two)

by Schurig, Rachel

  “November was always pretty lame,” Emily agreed, settling into a booth and taking off her scarf. “Too cold to do much outside, but no snow yet to have fun with.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And bad for business, too.”

  “Well, we’ve got snow now,” Elliot said, peering out the window at the steadily falling flakes. “What should we do with it?”

  “Whatever you guys want,” I said, catching site of Paul across the room and motioning for him to come and join us. “Cross-country skiing, snow mobiles, sledding.”

  “Hey, Donovan,” Paul said as he approached the table.

  “Hey, Paul,” Emily said, standing up to hug him somewhat gingerly. I noticed a bit of frost in her tone and demeanor. Paul had apologized to me profusely for his comments on the porch, claiming he was just tired and ever so slightly jealous, but apparently Emily wasn’t ready to completely forgive him. “Are you hung over? You look like crap.”

  “Thanks,” he said drily, reaching out to shake hands with Elliot as Emily introduced them. “You guys making plans?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Elliot’s a nature boy. I want to show him our fair city’s finest winter offerings.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t get out the snowmobiles, if I were you,” Paul said, nudging me over so he could slide in next to me in the booth. “Snow’s too powdery. Even with a few inches on the ground the trails are no good.”

  Emily made a face, and I knew she was disappointed. She probably hadn’t been on a snowmobile in years.

  “The skiing’s not bad, though,” Paul went on. “I was out yesterday. In fact, a bunch of us were gonna head out tomorrow night, ski for a while then have a big bonfire. Burn off some of the turkey, you know. You guys interested?”

  “That sounds great,” Emily said. “I love cross-country skiing.”

  We spent the rest of the night catching up over beers and a steady stream of hot food from the kitchen, Paul joining us whenever the bar was empty. As Emily updated me on the success of her physical therapy practice, I found myself feeling happier than I had in a while—namely, since I had left a certain someone in his bed in the suite. The restaurant was full of familiar faces. Laughter and conversation filled the air as people milled about, leaving their tables to mingle and chat with friends. My parents moved easily from group to group, socializing and generally holding court. A huge fire was roaring in the fireplace and the snow outside continued to fall.

  “Nights like this make me realize why you never left,” Emily said wistfully, looking around the room. “There’s nothing like being up north in the winter.”

  “You got that right,” Paul agreed. “You can take your big city—this is the life.”

  Looking around at the festive, cozy atmosphere, I had to admit that I kind of agreed with him.

  * * *

  We spent Thanksgiving the way we did every year—at the inn. The inn always had a fair number of guests on Thanksgiving. Though most of them were in town visiting family for the holiday, my parents insisted on keeping the dining room open for those that needed a place to share Thanksgiving dinner. My mom made all the food herself, and we were usually joined by family and several friends, including Emily and her dad.

  Thanksgiving was one holiday that I never begrudged having to spend at the inn. I had always hated that my parents had to work on Christmas and my birthday, but Thanksgiving was definitely more fun with the addition of people. A crowd of guests and friends in the dining room sure beat the three of us sharing a scrawny turkey in the cold apartment kitchen.

  “Your dad is looking good,” I said to Emily, watching her father across the table as he talked football with my Uncle Steve.

  “Yeah, he is,” Emily agreed. I noticed a little line form between her eyes—a sure sign she was worried. Her dad had suffered a heart attack the previous year, and I knew it made her nervous to be so far away from him.

  “I keep an eye on him, Em,” I assured her. “He comes in for dinner at least once a week, and my dad stops by his shop all the time to shoot the breeze. We take care of him, I promise.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, squeezing my hand under the table.

  “I come bearing pies!” a familiar voice called from the lobby. I turned to see Paul and his parents, along with his younger brother Bailey entering the dining room. There was a chorus of welcome, and Paul winked at me as his family went over to be greeted by my parents.

  “So what’s the deal there?” Emily asked.

  “With Paul?”

  “No, with Bailey,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Of course with Paul.”

  I shrugged. “There’s nothing going on there. We’re good friends, that’s all.”

  “Good friends that sleep together?” Elliot asked from Emily’s other side. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but not before she let a snort of laughter escape.

  “Real nice,” I muttered, helping myself to more mashed potatoes. “You have to tell him everything?”

  “Sorry,” she said, though she didn’t look the least bit apologetic.

  “I don’t get it,” Elliot said. “He seems like a great guy. He’s funny. He likes the same stuff as you, and he’s clearly crazy about you.”

  “He’s also incredibly immature,” I said. “And a womanizer. And then there’s the little problem of me not having feelings for him.”

  “He just doesn’t measure up to Mr. Gorgeous, huh?” Emily asked, and I felt my stomach swoop again. I wished she would stop bringing him up.

  “Mr. Gorgeous has left the building,” I said firmly.

  Emily watched me closely for a minute, as if trying to decide what she wanted to say. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Another one will come along,” I assured her, patting her hand and trying to keep my voice light. “When a girl looks like me, babe, there’s never any shortage of men.” They both laughed at my joke, but I couldn’t help but notice Emily looked slightly concerned—like she wasn’t quite buying my tone.

  Paul came and sat with us while we ate our pie. I was already stuffed by then, but I somehow managed to find room for two pieces of pumpkin. Mrs. Harting owned the bakery in town and her pies were legendary.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my belly. “That was ridiculously good.”

  “Agreed,” Emily said. “Mrs. Harting’s pies are the only reason I drove all this way.”

  The four of us tried to help clean up, but my mother shooed us away. “Go have fun,” she said. “I have plenty of help.”

  For once, I left things in her hands. I was afraid, if I didn’t get my skis on soon, I would end up falling asleep in front of the fire—a very tempting prospect. But I knew Emily and Elliot were looking forward to it, so I headed over to the apartment to find my snow pants and boots.

  Twenty minutes later the four of us were piling out of my truck on a back road in the woods. There were several other cars parked along the side of the snow-covered road in front of us. “Where the heck are we?” Elliot asked, looking around at the thick forest as we started pulling skies from the bed of the truck.

  “There’s a good trail back here,” I told him. “It goes around in a loop and takes us right back here to that meadow.” I pointed in the darkness to a clearing on the other side of our cars. “We’ll have the bonfire there when we’re finished.”

  There was a pretty large group waiting for us. I was relieved not to see Justine amongst them, though I knew most of the crowd from school or around town. Several called out to Emily by name, welcoming her home. Once everyone had their skis on, we set off along the trail in small groups.

  It had finally stopped snowing, and the sky was clear above us as we began, the moon reflecting off the white ground and creating plenty of light to see by. The trail was somewhat narrow, forcing us to go single or double file. Paul fell into stride next to me.

  “So,” he said. “Donovan was pretty pissed at me last night.”

  “Re
ally?” I asked sweetly. “I hadn’t noticed.

  Paul laughed. “Yeah, right. So I take it you told her what a jerk I was?”

  “Sorry, Paul,” I said. “I tell her everything. Besides, I was really upset that day. I had to talk to someone.”

  Paul was quiet for a moment, the only sound the rustle of our skies over the snow and the shouts of laughter from a group far ahead of us on the trail. “I really am sorry, Brooke. I mean it. I shouldn’t have said that. It was none of my business.”

  “I know, Paul. I’m sorry I upset you.”

  “I really screwed up, didn’t I? I can’t imagine I’d have much chance with you now.”

  I sighed. “We never really had a chance, Paul. We’ve always been better as friends.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “So,” I said, eager to change the subject. “Have you been seeing anyone lately?”

  “Nobody in particular,” he said, his old familiar smug tone creeping back in. “I mean, there’s a line pretty long looking to get some of this, but I’ve been busy.”

  I laughed. “You’re such a player, Paul.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  The trail took about an hour and a half to complete. When we circled back around to the meadow, I felt ready to collapse in bed. Instead I helped to pull firewood from Trevor’s truck bed, carrying it to the clearing and the hole that Paul and some of the guys had dug in the snow, exposing the dirt below so we could start a fire.

  Camp chairs were pulled from truck beds, and someone supplied a carafe of spiked hot chocolate. Before long we were all relaxing around the fire, the flames casting strange shadows over the white ground around us.

  “This is great,” Elliot said, wrapping his arm around Emily. The three of us had dragged a long, fallen log over to fire; once we had brushed off the snow, it provided a great seat for us.

  “This is what qualifies for fun in a small town,” Emily corrected. “We had to make our own entertainment.”

  “Well, I think you did a fine job,” Elliot said.

  “Probably because this is a novelty for you,” I said, pushing him playfully. “You might think differently if you had no other choice.”

  “You tease, Brooke,” he said. “But secretly I think you love this.”

  He was right, of course. Sitting around the fire with a bunch of old friends, the snow glistening around us, schnapps-laced hot cocoa in my hand—how could anyone not love this?

  There was only one thing in the world that I could think of that would make this better; unfortunately, he was four hundred miles away in Chicago.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time December arrived, I was determined to get John out of my mind for good. I was tired of thinking of him, of wondering if he might be thinking of me as well. I spent countless hours wondering if he had, in fact, thought of me at all since he left. I was ashamed of how many times I’d lapsed into some fantasy of him. Just when I thought I was completely over it, something would happen that would make me think of him; I’d see a man in a black peacoat or a guest would mention the hot tub. It was getting ridiculous.

  Business at the inn was finally picking up again. The snow brought with it guests eager to experience the abundance of winter sports northern Michigan had to offer. It was nothing like our summer crowds, but it was something. And it kept me busy.

  One Monday in mid-December, I left the inn in search of Christmas lights. The staff and I had spent the last week under strict marching orders from my father as he took up the post of Chief Christmas Decorator. My dad had always gotten really into Christmas, and even now he insisted on bossing everyone around until he was sure the inn looked the way he wanted. I was happy to comply; we had gotten compliments for our decorations for years, and I was sure it couldn’t hurt our chances of snaring the limited Christmas travelers.

  Twenty minutes into my search, my phone rang. Looking at the screen, I saw that it was the inn. I figured it was probably my dad, checking to make sure that I was at the local hardware store, and not the big chain. So I was surprised when I answered and heard Kellie’s voice, and not my father’s.

  “Oh my God, Brooke,” she gasped, sounding like she was out of breath. “You are never going to believe who was just here looking for you.”

  “Who?” I asked, my heart starting to pound in my chest. It couldn’t be who I thought.

  “John!” she cried. “You know, that gorgeous guy from last month! He was in here, and he was looking for you!”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, not even caring to guard my reaction from Kellie. “He was there?”

  “Yeah,” she said eagerly, clearly loving every minute of this drama. “And he seemed absolutely desperate to talk to you.”

  “Is he still there?” I asked, ready to run right back to the inn.

  “No, he said he couldn’t wait.”

  “Well, did he ask for my number?”

  “No, sorry, Brooke. But I’m sure he’ll be back. He really seemed like he wanted to talk to you.”

  I felt my heart sink. Had I just missed my only opportunity to see John again? What could he have wanted? What if I never got the chance to find out?

  I went back to work feeling dejected. Not even the smell of Mrs. Miller’s famous ginger snap cookies wafting from the kitchen could lift my spirits. When John hadn’t returned by the end of the dinner hour, I got comfort from an unexpected source. “I’m sure he’ll be back, Brooke,” Paul said, setting a glass of white wine down on my desk. I looked up at him in surprise.

  “I saw the guy,” he said, sounding resigned. “He really seemed like he wanted to talk to you.”

  “Really?” I asked, feeling my mood lift a fraction.

  “Really. It was obvious. He’ll be back. Or he’ll call. I’m sure of it.”

  “Thanks, Paul.”

  “Hey,” he said, smiling sadly. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  I tried to keep a positive attitude that night. In the morning I woke up a few minutes early so I could actually dry and straighten my hair, instead of letting it dry curly and messy like I normally did. I dressed for the season in a red V-neck sweater and a black pencil skirt. I threw on my highest heels for good measure, figuring nice shoes never hurt anyone, and spent an unusually long time getting my eyeliner just right. It was over the top, even for me. I knew I was being silly, dressing up for someone who might not even show up, but it helped me to stay in a good mood.

  But John didn’t come back that day, nor did he call. And the following day was a wash as well. By Thursday, I was convinced that I had missed my chance and resigned myself to a life of never knowing what he had wanted. I decided to go out for my lunch break; after three days of waiting I was feeling a bit stir crazy.

  I grabbed a sandwich at the deli down the street, surprised to find that the falling snow and bustle of Christmas shopping in town did, in fact, perk me up a bit. I walked back to the inn feeling marginally better.

  “Oh, thank God you’re back!” Kellie hissed the moment I walked in the door. She rushed over to me. “He’s here! He’s here right now!”

  I gaped at her, shocked. “Where?”

  “He checked in! I didn’t see him, but Bonnie told me!” Bonnie was one of our receptionists. “She said he asked for a room. An open-ended reservation. He didn’t even know how long he might be staying!”

  I wished she would keep it down. John was here, in my inn. The thought of him overhearing her made my stomach clench. “Okay, Kel, thanks. You can get back to work now, okay?”

  She stared at me as if confused. “Oh,” she finally said, slapping her forehead. “I totally forgot I was working.”

  I shook my head as she walked back to her station. Typical Kellie. Behind her, I caught sight of Paul. He was staring at me from the bar, the strangest expression on his face. He looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to come talk to me. Before I could wonder what was going on with him, I heard someone call my name.

  “Bro
oke!”

  I spun around to see John hurrying down the stairs, his face a mixture of relief and anxiety. “God, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

  “I…I just got back from lunch,” I stammered, reeling at the sight of him. He looked exactly the same—not surprising, considering it had only been a month. It had seemed so much longer than that. I was having a hard time believing he was actually standing in front of me. It seemed like I had imagined this so many times. “What are you doing here?” I finally managed.

  “I wanted to see you before someone else told you,” he said hurriedly, looking over his shoulder toward the bar. “I tried to see you earlier in the week. I know I should have called first, but I didn’t know how to say it over the phone.”

  “What’s going on? Is everything—”

  Before I could finish, a little girl, maybe eight or nine, came into the lobby from the dining room. She caught sight of John and me and came straight for us. To my surprise she pulled at his sleeve.

  “Dad, I’m bored. You said we could go shopping.”

  I stared at her while her words registered. She had dark hair, wavy, just like John’s. And when the light hit her eyes in the right way, I thought I could see some gold flecks in their depths. In shock, I turned my attention to John’s resigned face. His eyes met mine; I couldn’t read their expression.

  “Brooke, this is Lainey. My daughter.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting in my office, still trying to process what had just happened. First the shock of seeing John and then…I couldn’t believe that he had a daughter. I couldn’t believe that they were currently settling down into a room in my inn. Had I entered some kind of twilight zone?

  There was a knock on my office door and John stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”

  I nodded mutely, and he crossed the room to sit in the chair opposite me. “Brooke, I am so sorry. She wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. I thought I would have plenty of time to explain before you saw her.”

  “She’s…You have a daughter, then?” I asked, knowing how stupid I sounded. Of course he had a daughter. I had just met her.