By the time Charley’s horn beeped in front of the cottage, the workday had been long since underway. And their talk that had been interrupted by the crazy undeniable attraction between them had long since been forgotten. But neither one of them was going anywhere, and when she was ready to open up, he wanted to know everything.
Maybe it was the warm, sunny weather so unusual in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe it was the incredible sex. Maybe it was the way Trace, Lily, and Ben had settled into a routine that was so comfortable and family-ish. Whatever the case, Trace found himself whistling again as he left Lily’s cottage and followed the path to the main lodge in search of his dad.
It was time to solicit some fatherly advice about several things.
On his way, he dialed Megan’s number. He’d tried to call several times since inviting her to the island, but she’d ignored every one of them. Today was no different, and it went straight to voice mail.
As Trace circled around the side of the resort, he lifted a hand to greet Spence, who was replacing rotted two-by-fours over the covered activities area. Trace stopped to take in the transformation. New sparkling-white sand filled the volleyball pit, and a new net was strung across its width. Fresh paint gave the Adirondack chairs around the fire pit an inviting look, and Spence had sawed logs into small stumps and varnished them so they served as stools.
The game room renovation was under way too. Ben and Lily had scoured furniture and electronics catalogues every night over dinner, Ben getting more excited with each passing day.
All Lily’s doing. If she could pour so much heart into his family’s business . . . into his family, then Megan could damn well take a second to talk about their son’s future.
Sick and damned tired of jacking around, he tapped Megan’s number again. When her phone went to voice mail, he sharpened the edge to his tone and left a clear message.
“Megan, I’ve tried to be reasonable, but since you won’t discuss this like an adult, you’re leaving me no choice. Ben doesn’t deserve to be dragged through a nasty court battle, but if you want a fight, you’ve got one.” He hesitated, then decided to pull off the gloves. “If you think I’m going to let you take our son away and use him as a publicity stunt, you’ve miscalculated. I’ll make sure every detail of your absence from Ben’s life goes public. Every doctor’s appointment you’ve missed, every school function, every birthday party.” He pinched the bridge of his nose because of what he was about to say. It had caused Ben so much pain that Trace didn’t want him to have to relive it. “Every time Ben cried himself to sleep because you didn’t show up after promising him you would. I’ve swept things under the rug for Ben’s sake, but the damn rug is level with the ceiling by now. The choice is yours, Megan. Choose wisely.”
He hung up and pushed through the front doors of the main lodge.
Trace made his way to the family den, which had become his father’s workspace the past few years. He and Elliott sat at the round table with Elliott’s laptop open and a stack of bills next to it.
Elliott greeted Trace with the usual. “Hey, asshat.” He kept pecking at the keyboard.
Trace flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from his cheek with a middle finger. “Right back at ya, little brother. What’re you guys doing?”
His dad drew in a frustrated breath. “Elliott and Lily insist it’s time to automate. I don’t see why. Writing checks the good old-fashioned way works just fine.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “It’s not just about paying bills, Dad. I need to be able to run financial reports, project our annual budget, and a lot of other number crunching without having to calculate everything by hand.” Elliott’s financial wizardry kicked in, and his body seemed to inflate as he leaned forward and launched into a numbers spiel that had his dad’s eyes glazing over. “I can even run incremental profit-and-loss projections to correlate with anticipated expenses of new programs or equip—”
His dad held up a hand. “Don’t bother. I’m too old to learn spreadsheets.”
Elliott tapped the stack of bills. “We’ve gone through our monthly expenses, and some of these prices from our regular vendors seem exorbitant.” His voice turned to that shrewd all-business tone he only used from his high-rise corner office overlooking San Francisco Bay. Now that he was back on the island, it rarely came out unless he was talking numbers for the resort. “I’ll start checking around.” And if Trace knew his little brother, that translated to “I’ll cut our overhead by a large percentage.”
Elliott flipped the screen of his laptop down and gathered up the bills. He glanced at Trace. “With you as our new delivery source, we’ll have more flexibility to haggle with vendors.” The vendors didn’t stand a chance with Elliott taking over the resort’s financial management. He looked at his dad. “I’ll keep you posted.”
His dad shook his head. “You can keep me in the loop, but I want you three boys to keep each other posted. I’m planning to ease out of the management responsibilities now that the resort is on the rise again.”
Elliott’s expression blanked. “You’re—”
“Retiring?” Trace finished.
His dad pushed back from the table. “It’s time. This place didn’t deteriorate for no reason.”
Trace leaned against the back of the sofa. “Still, Dad. This place is yours.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, son. The resort belongs to you three now. I’m having the paperwork drawn up.” Lawrence scratched his head. “I planned to have this conversation with all three of you at once, but I’ll bring Spence up to speed later.” He chuckled. “Lily’s got him working nonstop with repairs and renovations. The only time I’ve seen him lately, he’s either on a ladder or has a power tool in his hand.” His dad sobered. “Which is why it’s time for me to step aside. The resort will benefit if I pass the reins to you kids, especially with the dynamite hospitality manager I hired.” He gave Trace an I-told-you-so look. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Lily did approach everything with a take-no-prisoners attitude. And by everything, Trace really meant everything. He couldn’t stop a smile.
“But what’ll you do?” Elliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Where will you go? Giving us ownership is kind of extreme.”
“I’m staying right here, dummy,” his dad teased. “I’ll be around if you need anything, but I plan to spend a lot of time with my grandson and grandniece.” He gave Trace a shrug. “Now that Charley’s taking over the restaurant and you’re starting a delivery service, you both could use a hand with the kids.”
Trace wasn’t ready for his brothers to know his delivery service might already be in jeopardy because of Megan. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave his dad a look that said, “Yeah, we need to talk in private.”
His dad studied Trace for a moment, then turned his attention to Elliott. “With any luck, I’ll have more grandkids on the way eventually.”
“Spence needs my help.” Elliott practically burned a path in the floor on his way out the door.
His dad nodded. “Knew that would get rid of him. What’s on your mind?”
Trace chuckled. “If I’ve got to hire an attorney, it might mess with my plans to buy a plane.”
“So lease one,” his dad said. “We can wait to buy one later when the custody thing is over. Ben comes first, no matter what.”
And that’s why Trace loved and admired his dad. He’d always been a great family man, always putting his sons first. Which was why the resort had declined. Because of their mother’s tragic accident right there on resort property and the pain it caused all of them, his dad had pushed them out of the nest after high school. Encouraged them to go out into the world and find themselves. Once they were gone, his dad couldn’t bring the resort back to its former glory on his own, but no way would he have asked his sons to come home and help. Returning to the island was something his father wanted them to decide to do on their own, not out of a sense of obligation.
Trace gave his dad a nod. “You’re pretty smart fo
r an old guy, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do know it,” his dad said. “What else is bothering you?”
“It’s that obvious?” Trace took a seat across the table.
“A father’s instinct.” His dad shrugged. “Plus, your shirt’s inside out.”
Trace looked down at his plaid shirt. Shit. No wonder buttoning it had been so difficult after his morning romp with Lily.
“I assume that has something to do with the budding romance between you and Lily?” His dad’s expression grew dark with concern.
Trace was so busted. “Dad . . .” Trace hesitated, not sure where to begin. “Do you think getting romantically involved could hurt my case if Megan really follows through with this?”
His dad drew in a deep breath. “I never went through a divorce or a custody battle, so I don’t know for sure. Seems to me that a stable relationship with a woman as solid as Lily would help your case, though.”
“Do you think it’s unprofessional to get involved with an employee?” Trace knew it was, but he couldn’t stop the way he felt about Lily any more than he could stop the storms that rolled over the island.
“Yes.” His father didn’t mince words. “It’s unprofessional and puts everyone in an awkward situation. Me, you, Lily, your brothers, and the resort.” He stared across the room at a watercolor painting of the resort that hung over one of the sofas.
One of Trace’s earliest memories was of his mother hiring an artist to paint the resort and the island landscapes so that she could hang the canvases around the Remington.
“It’s also how I met your mother.” A wistful smile curled his dad’s lips. “You know the story.”
Trace knew it well. She didn’t have a formal culinary education, so the only cooking jobs she could land in a big city were line-cook positions. So she applied for the chef’s position at the Remington when Dad first opened the resort. She was a city mouse who didn’t slide right into small-town life, but she fell madly in love with a country mouse named Lawrence Remington and stayed on the island for good.
“I took a chance on Lily because she reminded me so much of your mom. Brave, determined, ready to take on the world.” His dad scratched his chin. “I figured a city girl looking for a change of pace had worked out so well the first time, why not give it another try.” He leaned forward. “I’m not sure that helps, but it’s the truth.”
“Thanks, Dad. It does help.”
Lily’s body language, the fact that she only opened up a little at a time, leaving him to slowly peel back layers one by one . . . it led Trace to believe that she didn’t trust easily. That she’d been hurt badly.
He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to believe that he would never take advantage of her just because she was his employee. And more than anything, he wanted to show her that he’d never let her down.
Chapter Eighteen
LILY’S LIFE LESSON #18
Purple is the new orange.
Late Friday morning, Lily hustled to set up tables and chairs under the covered activities area before Ben’s class arrived for a field trip. That was how Lily had enticed Ben’s teacher not only to help develop the summer children’s program but also to be in charge of it as a summer employee at the resort.
Lily was late getting everything ready. Starting her workday late was becoming a habit because of the covert bedroom games she and Trace played every morning after Ben left for school.
She stilled, holding a folding chair in her hands, and stared into the overcast sky. Getting involved with her employer was a big risk. Risks of that nature hadn’t worked out so well for her in the past. But Trace was genuine. His devotion to his son and his family was proof that he had integrity and cared about others more than himself. It was still a risk, but maybe this time she’d chosen wisely.
And he definitely made her moan louder than her masseuse, so technically, she was only breaking half of life lesson number one—never date a man who can’t make you moan louder than your masseuse can.
Unfortunately, this time Lily was the one with weak spots in her integrity. Both times her conscience had prodded her to tell Trace the whole truth, they’d been interrupted. Her mom’s impeccable timing had stopped her on the front porch of her cottage the night they’d almost had storage-room sex. Trace’s joke about firing her when she was wearing nothing but a towel had thrown up the second roadblock.
Just in case he did hold the truth against her, she didn’t want to leave her job until her obligations to the resort, to the Remingtons, and to the businesses she’d made bartering agreements with were fulfilled. If she didn’t stay around long enough to lend those businesses her expertise, they might pull the plug on their agreement with the Remington.
So she’d slipped in little nuggets about her pre–Angel Fire Falls life when she and Trace spent time together, but she’d shared little else.
To make matters worse, her work ethic was slipping. She’d never been late to work a day in her life. This morning’s massage with heated oil and then their subsequent long, hot shower for two to wash it off had been too tempting. Her fingertips were still wrinkled from the amount of time they’d spent under the steamy water.
Meow.
The folding chair slipped through her fingers and clattered against the concrete floor. The loud sound jarred her back to the present, and she hurried to finish setting up.
“Need help, Lily?”
She whirled to find Elliott walking toward her. She’d been so intent on her mission and her waning job performance—and the massage and the shower for two—that she hadn’t heard him approach.
She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. “Yes. Please help me.” She pointed to several more tables that were stacked to the side. “Line those up in rows and put six chairs around each. We’re giving the children’s summer program a trial run this morning on Ben’s class. I thought this would be a good place to serve them lunch after they do a nature walk along the hiking trails. Ben’s teacher has a craft planned too, so this spot is perfect.”
Elliott followed her instructions and set up tables and chairs. “Where’s Trace?”
She busied herself even more. “Um, no idea. How would I know?”
“Because he spends more time at your place than his own?” Elliott said.
She moved at warp speed, covering the tables with butcher paper. “Ben spends a lot of time with the ducks. It’s his science project.”
Elliott unfolded another table. “I don’t think Trace’s constant whistling and good mood is caused by Ben’s science project.”
Obviously, their bedroom games weren’t as covert as Lily thought.
“He’s picking up new guests on the Cape.” She used disinfectant to wipe down the chairs.
“Ah.” Elliott pulled out his phone. “Let me check to see when they’ll be back so I can meet them at the dock to help with luggage.” Of all the Remingtons, Elliott’s aggressive business personality had embraced the changes at the resort the fastest. He tapped on the screen.
She was glad someone was utilizing the app she’d been so hell-bent on implementing because she certainly hadn’t checked the bookings lately. Between massage oil and showers and the late morning arrivals to work, she couldn’t suck much more as a hospitality manager if she tried.
“Two new couples are coming in for the weekend.” Elliott swiped across the screen a few times like he was studying the reservations calendar. He frowned. “Remember that Parker guy Trace didn’t like?”
She stopped wiping a table and straightened. “Yes.” She drew out the word, dreading whatever was coming next.
“He’s booked a room week after next,” Elliott said.
Not all that strange if Parker was an undercover reporter sniffing around for a story. She put on a brave face and smiled. “Maybe he’s just that impressed by the Remington.”
And snowballs existed in hell. Because if Lily believed her own pep talk, uncertainty wouldn’t be winding around her stomach an
d cinching it tightly enough that she’d want to toss the warm doughnut she’d eaten for breakfast.
With measured, mechanical movements, Lily set down the cleaning rag and bottle of disinfectant and pulled her phone from her hiking pants. Pants she’d never have worn as Scarlett Devereaux. But as Lily Barns, they’d grown comfortable, just like her life at the Remington. A life she was going to have to put on the line soon by telling Trace about her past.
If Ronald Parker didn’t screw her over first.
She refocused on her phone and pulled up the app. And yep. She’d totally missed Mr. Ronald Parker’s name on the reservations list, even though the system had flagged him. Obviously, Trace had missed it too, or he likely would’ve mentioned it.
Something niggled at the back of Lily’s mind. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore it. It was the clickity-clack of guilt against her conscience. The rap-tap-tap of remorse against her soul. The tick-tock of her inner clock that was running out, because Karma was coming for her.
That witch.
Except Lily had no one to blame but herself. When she left NOLA, she’d thought starting over with a new name sounded like an exciting adventure.
Now she thought it sounded about as smart as, say, moving across the country to work for a boss who could pass for a Mr. July centerfold pinup, then showing up the first day on the job riding a tricycle and carting a flock of ducks.
A yellow school bus turned into the Remington and rumbled down the long drive.
“I’ll show ’em where to park, then I’ve got more vendors to yell at.” Elliott winked. “I mean reason with. I’ll be in my office if you need help.” He started toward the lane but stopped. “By the way, I’m processing payroll. I noticed you still haven’t cashed your paycheck.”
She was still rationing the cash she’d brought with her from New Orleans. “Um, I’ve been so busy.” She gave him the brightest smile she could muster. “I’ll get to it.” As soon as she figured out how to cash a paycheck written to Lily Barns using an ID for Scarlett Devereaux.
Dare Me Once Page 20