Dare Me Once

by Shelly Alexander

  “Consider it forgotten.” She doubted she’d forget Trace’s erotic text in this lifetime. Neither would her uterus, the mutinous little hussy. Every time Lily thought of that text she ovulated.

  Whatever. She had a job to do, and that was that. “And the second condition?”

  “Stop calling me Mr. Remington.”

  Her foot bounced under the desk. “It’s professional.”

  “It’s absurd,” he countered.

  “As absurd as, say, a grown man asking to borrow a woman’s phone so he can get her number without permission?” She gave him an innocent smile.

  He didn’t return it. “Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

  They stared at each other across the desk so long it was like a showdown without dueling pistols. “Fine,” she mimicked his earlier one-word answer. “I’ll try to remember to call you Trace. If that’s all, I have an appointment with your father.” She glanced at her wrist to make a point. Only to realize she wasn’t wearing a watch. So she shuffled papers around on her desk. Seemed like a professional thing to do.

  Trace didn’t budge. Why wasn’t he budging? Instead, he stayed put like he didn’t want the conversation to end. “He’s in the family’s private den,” he finally said.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed her iPad and strolled right out of her office. Cool as the spring breeze rolling in off the ocean.

  Except for her quivering thighs. She should add another item to her bullet list of things to do around the resort—more working, less quivering.

  She found Lawrence sitting at a small wicker table in the corner of the den reserved for family. It was modestly decorated with an island motif. He was writing checks to go with the stack of bills in front of him. Lily knocked on the open door, and he peered at her over reading glasses. “Come in, Lily.”

  “Thanks for seeing me.” Lily took a seat across from Lawrence, ready to give him an update on her progress. Unfortunately, she also had a list of concerns that needed to be addressed, namely Mrs. Ferguson’s lack of culinary skills.

  “Sure thing.” He pushed back from the table.

  She cut right to it. “Since our summer kickoff is just five weeks away, I’ve set up several discounted packages that will be available for a limited time.” She decided to start with a list of her accomplishments before bringing up the food. “I’m advertising those package deals on social media and travel sites to get the word out. The point is to fill up the rooms as early in the season as possible so reviews start showing up online.”

  He nodded. “Impressive work.”

  “Lawrence.” She chose her words carefully. “I don’t think we can keep the Remington’s rooms filled without offering better food choices.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think we can afford to hire more kitchen staff for lunch and dinner. We only have enough room in the budget for part-time help with maintenance and cleaning.”

  “What if I found a solution that wouldn’t cost the Remington anything?” She crossed her legs and waited. Thanks to something Charley had said, Lily had an idea that just might work if she found the right person.

  He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I can’t let Mrs. Ferguson go.”

  Lily dipped her head once in a nod. “I haven’t met her yet, but if I can find a way for the resort to keep Mrs. Ferguson while bringing in food from another source, would you be willing to try it?” She gave him the deets but asked him to keep it under wraps for the time being.

  “If you can work that miracle, then I’m on board,” he said.

  “Excellent.” She smiled, and the tension in her shoulders released. She pulled up the booking program. “The new system is up and running. I’ll need to update our website, but it can be fully integrated with the booking program.” She pointed to the top corner of the screen. “You log in and the system updates the calendar as the bookings are made online. Employees and guests can download this app—”

  Lily froze when she glanced at Lawrence. The blank stare he gave the screen told her he’d zoned out.

  Her pride deflated. “This will be a tremendous help in bringing in new clients. Everything is done online now.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks. I used to handle reservations, but I think it’s time to pass the torch.” He scratched his jaw.

  Yes! She should be in charge of reservations until the resort could staff the front desk. She let out a breath. Lawrence was so much easier to be around than his son. Thank goodness she reported to Lawrence and didn’t have to work closely with Trace.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Trace breezed in.

  Speak of the hot and handsome devil. Every cell in Lily’s body tensed.

  “It took some finesse, but I talked Charley out of a doughnut.” Trace faced them at the table, leaning against the back of the seashell-print sofa, and ate his prize over a napkin.

  Lily narrowed her eyes. Because who made eating a doughnut look so seductive? Plus, her doughnuts were still mostly uneaten and sitting on her desk, thanks to him. No one got between her and a gourmet doughnut and lived to tell the tale.

  “I asked Trace to be here because he’s the best person to work with you on the changes you’re bringing to the Remington.”

  Her head snapped around to gape at Lawrence.

  No. Just no.

  “Lawrence”—Lily couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice, or the desperation—“I assure you, I won’t let you down. No need to impose on Trace.”

  Trace, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit surprised or desperate as he chomped on his damned doughnut. Obviously, he’d known this was coming. So much for giving her the benefit of the doubt. He’d have to approve every change. And reporting directly to Trace would make avoiding him a little difficult.

  “I have complete confidence in you, Lily.” Lawrence tapped his finger against the table thoughtfully. “But I can barely work my newfangled television remote.”

  “I’m looking forward to taking the lead on this. It’s about time Dad turned more responsibility over to me.” Trace took another bite.

  She’d wanted to immerse herself in work. Earn her place at the Remington. Maybe she should’ve sacrificed one of her coveted doughnuts to the work gods or some such, because the last thing she intended was to be stuck working side by side with a man who’d sexted her. A man whose ridiculous good looks could cause her to make another mistake that would ruin her chances at a new life.

  Obviously, Be careful what you ask for wasn’t just a cliché.

  The silence was painful, and Lily laced her fingers to keep them still.

  Lawrence looked from one to the other. “Is there something I should know?”

  “Nope,” Trace said too quickly.

  “Not a thing,” Lily blurted at the same time.

  “I’m flying to the Cape to pick up guests, and I’ve got an aerial tour this evening.” Trace brushed off his fingers on his jeans. “Tomorrow’s kind of busy too. How about you show me the new reservation system later this week?”

  She nodded and gathered her iPad. “I’ll get started on updating our website. Also, I need to drive into town soon,” she said to Lawrence. “Can I check out a Jeep?”

  He nodded. “Leave me a copy of your driver’s license. You typed in the number on your employment forms, but if you’re going to drive a company vehicle, we need a hard copy on file for insurance purposes.”

  A rush of anxiety hit Lily square in the chest. Her license listed her real name. Which was why she hadn’t given the resort actual copies of her identification. Since they didn’t insist on a background check, typing in the information without submitting photocopies had allowed her to remain incognito. “I just remembered, my license is expired. I’ll take the shuttle.”

  Lawrence pointed at Trace. “He can drive you into Angel Fire Falls and fly you to the Cape whenever you need.”

  Trace thumbed his chest. “Pilot, remember?”

  Lily couldn’t q
uite force a smile. Of course she remembered. How could she possibly forget?

  Chapter Eight

  LILY’S LIFE LESSON #8

  If life is easy, then you’re not having fun.

  Lily sat behind her desk, trying to integrate the new booking system with the Remington’s outdated website, which she’d dubbed Webasaurus Rex.

  Focusing on work was an impossible feat ever since she’d told Lawrence her driver’s license had expired so he wouldn’t discover her real name. Her conscience was proving to be a handicap. Apparently, she hadn’t inherited her father’s ability to lie without losing a wink of sleep. It was already wearing on her, and she’d only been in Angel Fire Falls a week and a half.

  Lily rubbed her eyes and let her head fall back in defeat. The website was so outdated, it would be easier to start from scratch. Website design wasn’t her thing, but with the shoestring budget she had to work with, she’d have to do it herself. Luckily, she’d found a user-friendly website-building-for-dummies program.

  In need of a break after hours in front of her computer, she pushed out of her chair and walked to her cottage. Her ringtone blared from the back pocket of her black hiking pants. Lily made sure no one was in sight, then drew in a fortifying breath. “Hi, Mom.” Why did she find talking to her mother so exhausting?

  “Scarlett! You haven’t called. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I called a day and a half ago.” Having to check in with her mother so often drained Lily’s energy. Probably why she found her mother’s conversations exhausting.

  “How’s Vermont? Maybe I should join you at the retreat.” Her mother’s tone told Lily she was in the middle of a full-blown pity party.

  “No.” Lily choked down her rising panic. “Mom, you need to stay close to home so you can visit Dad.”

  “I can only visit him twice a month.” She sighed like it was a relief. “And there’s not much to do here.” Her voice shook. “I’m not going back to the country club. The service has gone downhill.”

  They’d probably canceled the Devereaux family membership for nonpayment of dues.

  “Mom, have you thought about getting a job? You used to work before you met Dad.” Lily tried to sound encouraging. “At least it would get you out of the house.” And off the sauce.

  “I worked as a bank teller,” her mom snapped. “What bank is going to hire me after what your father did?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. You could find a job that doesn’t require handling money.” Lily stepped off the path and onto the road that led to the cottages. “Or you could volunteer. Helping others might make you feel better.”

  Her mom let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not a strong woman like you, honey. You get that from your father.”

  Dear God, no. No, no, no.

  Lily’s heart squeezed because there was more truth in her mother’s words than she knew. Yes, Lily was a hard worker and never took a penny she didn’t earn. But she was also posing under an alias. Maybe for good reasons—one being survival—but it was still dishonest.

  “Tell me about the retreat,” her mother said.

  “Well . . .” Lily’s conscience already prickling, she settled on a thread of truth. “I’ve got my own cottage. It’s adorable.” She glanced up the road toward her house, and her heart warmed.

  “Oh, sounds lovely. What else, sweetie?”

  A bird flew overhead, and Lily thought of her ducks. “There’s lots of wildlife on the grounds and a really great pastry chef.” She leaned her head back to gaze up at the cloudy sky. “Rains a lot. At least there are no hurricanes, though.”

  The mention of the Gulf Coast’s horrible weather provoked a lengthy complaint about heat and humidity from her mom.

  Lily listened patiently as she reached the front steps of her cottage. Sitting on the front porch was a gigantic plastic container that hadn’t been there when she’d left for work that morning. Her phone dinged. She held it out to read the new reservation notification on her booking app, and a sense of accomplishment welled inside her. The fruits of her hard work were already paying off. “Mom, can I let you go?”

  Her mother groaned her disappointment.

  “I’m in the middle of something,” Lily said. “Promise I’ll call next week.”

  “Make it a few days, and I’ll let you off the phone,” her mother whined.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “All right, Mom. Love you.”

  She hung up and texted the guest’s arrival information to Trace, since he still hadn’t made time for her to train him on the new system. Then she walked onto her front porch to look inside the container. Puppy training pads lined the bottom, and a fleece hunting hat sat in one corner. Next to it was a reusable grocery bag that contained an assortment of fresh veggies, cornmeal, and more training pads.

  Hammering echoed from the backyard, and Lily cocked her head to listen.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Lily frowned.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  She walked around to the back of the cottage. Ben was hard at work hammering stakes into the ground to form a large circle.

  “Hey, bud.” Lily stuffed her phone back in her pocket. “Whatcha doing?”

  “I’m building a pen so the ducks can play outside.” His tongue slipped through his lips on one side of his mouth as he concentrated on hammering in another stake.

  Lily nodded. “Is that your box on the front porch?”

  “It’s the ducks’ new inside house.” He kept hammering. “They can snuggle inside the fuzzy hat to keep warm.”

  Pretty resourceful for a kid his age. “Ben, where did you get the supplies?” She really hoped he wasn’t asking his dad for money. She didn’t want to push any more of Trace’s buttons when it came to Ben and the ducks.

  “Mostly from the boathouse.” Ben finished hammering in the last stake, then unwound the roll of chicken wire. He tore open a package of colorful pipe cleaners. “My teacher gave me these because she had extra.” He used them to secure the chicken wire to the stakes.

  “Where did the stuff on the front porch come from?” Lily asked.

  “Charley took me to the store.” He moved to the next stake. “Hey, Lily!” he blurted. “You know how the ducks think you’re their mom?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “That’s called imprinting. It’s science. My teacher said the ducks can be my science project! Can we take pictures of the ducks every day?” It all tumbled out at once. “My teacher helped me find more stuff online about raising them.” He hammered some more. “And Miss Etheridge stopped being mad at me for saying her hair is ugly.”

  Um. Wow. Telling any female her hair was ugly couldn’t have produced a positive result. “I have a few pictures of them, but we can take more each day.” Lily shoved her hands in her pockets. “Have you cleared this with your dad? For real this time?”

  Ben didn’t look at her. “He says I have to do my own project. The other kids at school have their dads do all the work.”

  Lily smiled. She’d chosen a few science projects specifically because they required building something; having a dad who was a builder had been convenient.

  Her chest squeezed. It had been a long time since she’d remembered anything good about her father. Working on those projects with him had been fun.

  But Ben still hadn’t answered her question.

  “Ben”—Lily dropped the tenor of her voice—“is your dad okay with this?”

  He still wouldn’t meet her eye. “It’s a surprise.”

  Sounded like a smooth way of not clearing it with his dad. “You need to tell him. There’s a difference between a surprise and a lie.”

  She nearly choked on her own words.

  Lily swallowed back the bitterness of guilt that welled up in her throat.

  That was quite the moral platitude from someone whose mother thought she was at an exclusive retreat in Vermont instead of working hard on a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest. She’d tell her mother the truth eventually. For now, she couldn
’t deal with the threats and the verbal abuse from the public if her true identity got out, and her mother wasn’t exactly discreet after too much scotch on the rocks.

  Lily refocused on Ben. “I’ll leave my front door unlocked so you can check on the ducks after school. But only if you promise to tell your dad about the science project.”

  His nod was reluctant.

  “Want to feed the duckies?”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. Ben dropped the pipe cleaners and ran to her. She tousled his hair. “What are we going to do with the veggies and cornmeal?”

  He skipped along. “Grind everything up and feed it to them.”

  They rounded the corner and climbed the front steps. She took out her key and opened the door. “Thanks for shopping for them. I’m almost out of oatmeal and bread, and I don’t have a way to get to the store.” She made a face. “They eat a lot for being such little things.”

  “And poop a lot too.” Ben giggled.

  They carried everything in, and the ducks tuned up. She pulled up the camera on her phone and handed it to him. “Take a few pictures, and make sure they have fresh water. I’ll start their food.”

  Ben ran to the bathroom.

  She searched the cabinets and found a mini chopper. “Here we go.”

  Ben emerged from the bathroom, rubbing one hand against his thigh rhythmically. “Megan looks sick.” He slid Lily’s phone onto the counter next to her purse.

  Lily hurried to the bathroom. Nine of the ducks cheeped their lungs out, but one sat off to the side, quiet and still. She adjusted the shade of the table lamp she’d moved to the bathroom for warmth to direct more heat downward. Still, the little lone duck didn’t seem right.

  She glanced at Ben, who rubbed his thighs faster.

  “Maybe she’ll feel better after she eats.” A tremor of regret flowed through her at Ben’s worried expression. The last thing she wanted was to cause him heartache.