“Here’s the deal”—Lily wagged a finger at the ducklings—“I’ll take you with me, but you have to stay out of trouble once we get there.” She stepped around the ducks and stooped over her luggage. The tiny birds followed her. “Lucky for you, I volunteered for a wildlife rescue after the last oil spill, so I know a thing or two about taking care of your kind.” Which was how she knew ducklings bonded with the first living thing they saw after hatching, and she must be it.
She huffed as she unzipped her luggage and grabbed an armful of clothing to make a nest, most of which was lingerie.
Where was Mabel McGill’s giant nest of hair when Lily needed it?
She layered the basket with a wool sweater, then fluffed the soft undergarments into a cozy home for her new wards.
Narrowing her eyes at the ducks, she said, “Happy now? My unmentionables are soaked.”
At least her sexy, silky lingerie would finally be put to good use, since it had been wasted on Andrew.
Cheep, cheep.
“Okay, hop in.” She lifted each one of them into the basket with no idea how she was going to explain this to her new boss.
Maybe she could find a place to stash the ducklings and the trike before she reported for work. Her own cottage on the resort grounds was part of the agreement, so she could move them in with her later that evening after her employer gave her a key.
If she was still employed by then.
No one had bothered to pick her up, and now she was showing up unannounced. On a tricycle, in the middle of a storm, carting a flock of birds.
Karma. Karma was catching up with her for lying to her mother. Lying about her name. Lying on her résumé. Her pants would probably detonate into a mushroom cloud if she weren’t in the middle of a storm with raindrops the size of saucers and no shelter in sight.
If she did still have a job at the Remington Resort, her first priority would be to develop a method of communicating with new arrivals. If the management forgot their guests the way they’d forgotten Lily, no wonder the place was growing stagnant—as Mr. Remington had put it.
A bolt of lightning cracked open the dark sky, and Lily jumped.
She would not give up. She wouldn’t.
Because of her father and her ex, she’d weathered worse than a thunderstorm. Been stalked by worse than a few harmless ducks. Had to explain worse to her employer than soaking wet clothes and her three-wheeled means of transportation. There was nothing left in her past to return to. Her only option was to keep pedaling forward. Take her chances with the Remington and see what happened.
And didn’t that just suck like a motherducker?
Trace’s Jeep splashed down the narrow road as he sped toward the ferry crossing, hoping to find . . .
Hell, he didn’t know what he was hoping to find.
Other than a woman on a tricycle.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t mentioned the trike to his family. Maybe it was because he was thrown by Ms. McGill’s appealing description of the new employee. Maybe it was because the Remingtons were at fault for leaving her stranded. Either way, a sense of protectiveness welled up in him once he found out she’d had the backbone to brave the storm on a trike instead of calling for help.
That was either mettle or madness, and for some reason, Trace wanted to see which before sharing details with his family.
The rain came down harder, so he flipped the wiper switch to high. The blades squeaked back and forth across the windshield as he rounded a densely wooded curve.
The image of a woman pedaling a huge trike like she was a NASCAR driver came into view, the blue-and-yellow flag on the back flapping wildly in the wind. Definitely not something he saw every day. It would’ve been funny except for the look of sheer hell-bent determination on her face.
She waved both hands in the air as though she was afraid he wouldn’t stop.
He slowed the Jeep and pulled to the shoulder of the road opposite her. He slid from the truck and jogged across the asphalt.
She fanned long slender fingers over her chest. “You’re the first vehicle to pass me on the road,” she said through chattering teeth. “I was beginning to think the island was deserted.”
Mabel McGill had described Ms. Barns as young, pretty, and spunky.
She was three for three.
“People stay holed up at home during a storm like this.” He pulled off his jacket and handed it to her. “Put this on. I’m Trace Remington.”
Something in her big brown eyes flashed. “You’re my new boss?”
He could swear her teeth stopped chattering and started clenching.
He wasn’t sure how to answer her question. Technically, his father was her boss, but Dad had insisted on signing over part ownership when Trace returned to the island for good. So a shrug was Trace’s noncommittal way of responding without really giving Lily a straight answer. The parenting books called it deflecting. “My dad, Lawrence, hired you. Ms. McGill called from the ferry terminal. I figured you could use some help.”
Ms. Barns gave him a blank stare, as though he must have the IQ of a rock. “Um, no.” She waved a hand over two raggedy suitcases that were bungeed to the back of the trike. “I’ve totally got this.”
Trace rubbed his aching throat and glanced over the luggage, which had a designer label but was in Goodwill condition. “Clearly.”
She didn’t break eye contact with him as she got off the trike and stood to face him.
Trace couldn’t help it. He let his gaze slide over her because he was still stoked from Sexy Airport Girl’s sensual moan. His stare traveled back up and snagged on Ms. Barns’s dark-brown hair. There seemed to be a surplus of hot brunettes in his path today.
At most, Ms. Barns was a buck ten soaking wet. And oh yeah, she was definitely soaking wet. Strands of dark hair clung to her face and neck. Her muddy jeans and saturated shirt did some clinging too, and Trace swallowed hard because a) her shirt was white, and b) the spring storm had caused the temperature to drop lower than normal.
She either wasn’t wearing a bra or wasn’t wearing a very good bra, because her full breasts greeted him with much more enthusiasm than her expression, which had turned dark as the sky. She eyed him like she didn’t trust him any more than she trusted the weather. He held the jacket out and returned her leveled stare until she slowly reached for it.
“Tell you what,” Trace said. “Why don’t you let me help . . . even though you obviously don’t need it.” He took a few strides toward her bags. “And I’ll owe you one for humoring me.” He stepped around to the back of the trike.
Cheep, cheep. Cheep, cheep.
Trace’s lips parted as he stared down at the fuzzy ducks. He couldn’t make this stuff up if he tried. “You brought your own ducks. How efficient,” he smarted off. Because every hospitality manager should come equipped with her own set of ducks. Who knew when a good duck or two might come in handy?
“I found them . . . or they found me.” She wiped the rain from her creamy cheeks. “They must’ve lost their mother.”
Trace scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw.
“I’d like to bring them with us.” She nibbled her bottom lip like she was nervous. “Just until I find someone to take care of them.”
Trace unhooked the bungee cord and picked up the other suitcase. The last thing he needed was cute animals at the resort. Ben might get attached, but now wasn’t the time to discuss the problems that would cause. Not with raindrops the size of golf balls pelting them. “Put ’em in the back seat. I’ll get the rest.” He loaded the bulging bag into the rear of the Jeep, while she transferred the ducklings to the floorboard behind the passenger seat. The trike wouldn’t fit. He’d have to pick it up later when the weather cleared. He scooped up the clothes from the basket and turned to get in the truck.
“What are you doing?” She was in his path and glared at the wad of clothes in his hands.
“Getting your things.” His stare followed hers to the fistful of panties in o
ne of his hands to the purple lacy bra in the other.
Holy shit.
And one of the panties was a black thong.
Kill him now because not even the cold rain could cool the slow burn seeping to his core. His brothers might be right. If Trace was getting turned on by a few handfuls of wet lingerie, it had probably been way too long since he’d been naked with a woman.
His eye twitched. Now that he’d put the words wet and lingerie together in the same sentence, it was doing nothing to help the ache going on south of the border.
The sharp glint in her deep chocolaty eyes said she was irritated. The hard line of her perfectly shaped mouth said she was used to difficult situations. Only the sexy pink blush on her cheeks gave away the hint of vulnerability lurking beneath the surface.
She grabbed the lingerie from him, fumbled with it, and dropped the thong and the bra. A soft curse slipped through her ample lips, and the color on her cheeks deepened.
He stooped to pick it up, let the lacy purple number dangle from a finger, and gave her an innocent look. “I can put this in your suitcase if you’d like.”
She snatched it away. “I can manage on my own, thanks.”
He held out the thong. “I have no doubt you can.” The corners of Trace’s mouth hurt from suppressing a grin. “But thanks for letting me help anyway.”
With no trust whatsoever in her eyes, she gave him a pasty smile. And Trace couldn’t help but think how much her itty-bitty undies didn’t match the size of her determination.
Chapter Four
LILY’S LIFE LESSON #4
Trust no one . . . unless they offer you doughnuts.
Lily could swear there was something familiar about Trace Remington. She studied his profile from the passenger seat and hugged herself, trying to rub the chill out of her arms. His damp hair was just messy enough to look sexy, like he’d run fingers through it. It brushed the collar of his soaked shirt, and a single dark curl fell across his forehead. He possessed enough swagger to charm a girl right off her tricycle and into his Jeep.
His presence filled the vehicle, pressing her against the door with barely enough space to breathe. He was the full package as far as looks went. Add the soaking wet look and he could easily pass for a male supermodel. Or male dancer. Either way worked for her. He was so freakishly good-looking, she was sure she’d remember him if they’d met.
He maneuvered the Jeep around a deep puddle, then reached toward the dash to turn up the heat. “Getting warmer?”
Definitely. In all the wrong places.
When she didn’t answer, he shot a glance her way.
Her stare flitted away from his strong jaw, the hint of stubble making him even more attractive. It was the kind of face that made a girl look twice. Made a girl sigh all over. Made a girl want to do stupid things . . . like search his body for tattoos, then outline them with her tongue.
Bad, Lily. Bad.
She refocused on why she’d come to Angel Fire Falls. A new job. A new beginning. A new life as an independent woman.
A new man wasn’t part of her plan.
So she cleared her throat, determined to sound professional. Polished. Cool and collected. “Yeah.” It came out as a croaky wheeze, as if a frog was blocking her windpipe. She clamped her mouth shut and counted the swipes of the squeaking wipers to get her mind off the awkward situation.
Then her stomach rumbled as loud as the storm clouds.
He chuckled. “Haven’t eaten in a while?”
She shook her head. “It’s been a long day.”
Trace flipped on the headlights. “We’ve got hot coffee and homemade doughnuts at home.” He rubbed his throat.
That word. Home. It took her by surprise, and she held her breath for a beat. A new home was what she’d wanted. Now that she had it. Fear tightened her chest until she was forced to draw fresh air into her lungs.
“Oh.” She chewed her lip and finally blurted, “I love doughnuts.”
She was such a conversationalist, it was almost scary.
Since her communication skills hadn’t seen fit to arrive on the same flight she had, they were probably lost and circling a luggage carousel somewhere in Arizona. She clamped her mouth shut and stared at the road ahead. Lush green fields lined the road, and stands of trees stretched in the distance on both sides. The road meandered left, then back right until they turned into the resort entrance, which was framed with stone columns and a wrought iron arch that fashioned the words THE REMINGTON in artfully rugged letters.
The Jeep bounced through a dip in the long driveway, and the ducks turned up their volume, expressing their disapproval.
“The ducks can stay in my bathtub tonight. Tomorrow I’ll look for a box or a container,” she said.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about the ducks. The resort doesn’t allow pets.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Why? A family-friendly resort usually includes family pets, especially in this part of the country. Pet-friendly lodging is crazy-popular out here.” Common knowledge within the world of hotel management. “The policy is likely costing you bookings.” Another priority on her work list would be a new furry-friends-are-welcome strategy.
“I made that rule when I moved back here a few years ago.” His tone wasn’t so neighborly this time. “We don’t want to deal with the liability if someone gets bitten.”
Lily swallowed back an explanation of how business insurance dealt with liability because that probably wouldn’t help win her ducks a stay of execution. “They’ll die on their own. Give me a little time, and they’ll be gone. Then I’ll owe you one.” She let a smile curl onto her lips. “And I’ll make sure the ducklings don’t peck a guest to death.”
When the muscle in his jaw ticked, the tension in her shoulders dialed up a notch.
Who was she kidding? Her stress level had run full throttle for months, leaving her with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from too much anxiety and too little joy in life.
“All right, but keep them out of sight. I don’t want my s—” His knuckles whitened against the black steering wheel.
Wow. Trace was uptight.
“People tend to get attached to animals. Letting them go is more difficult for some than others,” he said.
“I’ll make sure they’re not a problem.” Lily laced her fingers and rubbed one thumb against the other. “Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Least I can do for leaving you at the ferry crossing.” His tone was so serious, so sincere that Lily couldn’t look away. “We usually take better care of people than that.”
The point was for Lily to take care of herself, and she squared her shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m your employee, not your guest.” Yes! She was the help, and Trace Remington was her boss. She’d be wise to remember that instead of focusing on his lovely cheekbones. His ridiculously muscular arms. His velvety voice that caused a flutter in her tummy and a tingle in her . . .
A twinge of recognition turned the fluttering to flailing.
Surely not.
Her gaze landed on his right wrist, and the butterflies in her stomach slipped away just as fast as they’d arrived. The Voice had been wearing a watch. Trace’s wrist was bare.
Whew.
After the hellish day she’d had, after the horrible first impression she’d made, wouldn’t it just suck if her new boss had turned out to be the Voice?
The universe couldn’t be that cruel.
He slowed the Jeep as he maneuvered down the tree-lined drive.
“I’ll need to return the tricycle.” More stellar conversation from hers truly. She swiped a palm across her forehead. “I can’t imagine how this must look. Or what Mr. Remington must think.” With an elbow propped against the door, she rested her temple against her hand.
“I’ll take care of the trike first thing tomorrow. I didn’t mention it to anyone else,” Trace said as they pulled through a circular drive and stopped in front of the resort under
a covered portico. Floodlights lit the stone façade of the resort, and Lily watched an entire crew of men barrel toward the Jeep.
“And that would be the welcome wagon,” Trace said. “Otherwise known as the Remington family.”
Two younger guys and an older man, who were all just as big and built as Trace, swarmed the Jeep as soon as he pushed the gearshift into park. An awful lot of testosterone, and they obviously didn’t know how intimidating they were as they pulled her suitcases from the back and opened her door, everyone shouting introductions as they moved.
“Ms. Barns! We finally meet in person.” The silver-haired gentleman with a warm smile threw a blanket around her shoulders as soon as her feet touched the pavement. “I’m Lawrence.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She pulled the blanket closed in front to hide her muddy clothes. She ran a hand through her damp, disheveled hair and tried to smooth it. Her appearance was atrocious. She doubted she could make a worse first impression if she tried. Unless Trace decided to mention the tricycle. Or the ducks. Or the thong and the purple bra she’d used to make a bird’s nest.
Good Lord.
Scalding heat crept up her neck. Today would go down in the record books as the most embarrassing first day of work ever.
“Can you take Ms. Barns’s luggage to her cottage?” Trace said to his two brothers. He came around to the back door of the Jeep where the ducks were riding and leaned against it as if guarding her secret. She gave him an appreciative smile.
Elliott and Spence said their goodbyes and walked away, toting her luggage. They looked so much alike, Lily could barely tell them apart. But Trace, he was different. There was a family resemblance, but he stood out from the others.
Her mind raced, searching for the right description.
More handsome? More hot?
Her lips parted when he folded both arms across his broad chest and two incredibly formed biceps rippled.
Yes, yes. Definitely more hot.
“I’m so sorry about the mix up.” Lawrence’s gray hair was a surprise because his voice and enthusiasm during her telephone interviews had seemed much younger. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm and give you the grand indoor tour.” She could hear the same thread of excitement he’d used during their phone calls. “I can’t wait to get started on this place.” He rubbed both hands together. “It’s going to be completely transformed back into what it used to be before I got old and lame.”
Dare Me Once Page 4