Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight

by Kimberly Montague

  Before I even walked into the inn, Annalisa sent me a text message.

  Are you awake yet?

  Yes

  A friend of your mystery guy showed up an hour ago. He said not to wake you. I put him in the Cambridge room.

  Thx. I'll be right in.

  We're in the kitchen. He's quite the charmer.

  K.

  I quickly stopped off at my office, dropping off my coat and gloves before heading for the kitchen. Nervous butterflies fluttered around in my stomach even though I kept telling myself there was no reason to be nervous.

  Pushing open the door, I was surprised at the sight that greeted me. A man was seated on a stool next to the counter wearing a dark blue sweater and jeans. His sleeves were pushed up, and he was leaning toward Annalisa. Annalisa—who had never been the flirtatious type—had her elbows on the counter as she leaned close to Sean's best friend. I had no idea what to think. She was smiling and giggling, and I was so surprised that I just stood there for a few minutes.

  "Oh!" Annalisa's eyes connected with mine, and she stood up quickly. "Morgan's here." She grabbed his hand like they were old friends. "Stewie, this is the girl you've been waiting for. This is Morgan. Morgan, this is Stewie."

  I put my hand out to him, and he shook it, returning my firm grasp. He was nice looking—stocky with broad shoulders and a sweet smile. His blonde hair was short and neat, and he was just an inch or two taller than me. He looked like someone you'd want to be friends with.

  "It's nice to meet you Stewie. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you checked in, but I just found out you were coming."

  He smiled and winked at me, but it wasn't a sleezball move like it was with a lot of guys—it was more like he was trying to put me at ease. It helped, too. "I know all about Sean's tactics. He knew you'd say no, so he put me on a plane, and here I am."

  "Of course I'd say no. I can't believe he sent you here." I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. "I mean, I appreciate the help and all, but he shouldn't have spent the money to fly you out here. He hardly even knows me."

  "Sean's never been shy about what he wants, and damn if he isn't always right about people. Bugs the crap out of me, but he can smell a rat a mile away. You'll get used to him following his instincts and being right—it'll probably annoy you as much as it annoys us. And he didn't spend any money to get me here. He flies around so often for work that he probably has enough frequent flier miles to fly around the world ten times."

  I nodded, feeling a little better that he hadn't spent money to get Stewie to Vermont, but I still wasn't comfortable with the situation. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with Stewie. "Well, thank you for coming."

  "Not a problem. I was bored out of my mind in Miami. Sean and I are from Minnesota originally, so the heat is just too much for me." He turned to smile warmly at Annalisa. "I like a nice winter where you can cuddle up with a beautiful girl by the fire as the snow falls outside."

  Annalisa blushed brightly. Watching her was therapeutic and relaxing. She didn't pay too much attention to guys, and they really didn't pay much attention to her. Seeing her openly enjoy Stewie's attention made my heart very happy. "Did Annalisa give you a tour?"

  "No," he said pointedly at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "She did not. She's an awful hostess, you should know. She's forced me to sit in this kitchen and eat far too many delicious things."

  "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "Come on, I'll show you around." She grabbed his hand again and pulled him toward the door.

  Before he got out of the kitchen, he turned back to me. "You should call Sean. He was worried you'd be mad. He's almost never worried—I really got to rub it in, so thanks for that." He chuckled a little evilly and let Annalisa pull him out the door.

  I was mad. He could have told me. Sure, I would have said no, but that's not the point… okay, it was the point. He was doing something nice for me. But the same argument that I didn't know this guy kept haunting my thoughts. Regardless, I went back to my office and pulled out my cell phone.

  It rang and went straight to voicemail. "Yes, I'm mad." I sighed loudly, letting the anger go. "But I'll get over it. Call me when you can."

  Annalisa's voice pulled me out of my chair and to the doorway. "This is the lobby. This is the first room Morgan and her mom restored. It took them forever to sand that molding—there were like ten layers of paint on it."

  "Three, Annalisa." I smiled at the memory of those simpler days. Restoring the place had been so much easier than running it.

  "It's beautiful." Stewie was looking at every detail of the wooden molding. "I can't believe you and your mom did all the restoration."

  "Well, not all of it. We had to bring in electricians, and the plumbing was a mess."

  He ran his hand over the pillar that sat atop the half-wall partitioning off the original dining room from the entryway. Since it was off to the side, it was the easiest location for the lobby. "But the carpentry work you must have done to get it back to its original beauty is amazing." I nodded and he continued. "Did you do the decorating, too?"

  "No." I smiled fondly. "That was all my mom. She was a genius at interior decorating, not so good with power tools, but her vision for this place was perfect."

  Stewie glanced at the phone in my hand. "Did you call him?"

  Nodding, I looked down at my phone. "Voicemail."

  He glanced at his watch. "Right. They'll let him out for a break in awhile."

  "What does he do?" Annalisa asked, and my heart sped up at the possibility that he might answer her.

  He tapped his finger to her nose and smiled. "I'm not allowed to say."

  I rolled my eyes and walked back into my office, throwing myself in my chair. I put my hand to my eyes and assumed Annalisa had resumed the tour.

  Stewie cleared his throat, drawing my attention to the doorway. "I know it's frustrating, and I can't say I agree with him on this, but I can understand why he's doing it. He hasn't had the best luck with women—"

  I leveled a do-you-think-I'm-stupid stare on him. "Did he tell you how he met me?"

  "Oh, I know. I didn't mean he had trouble getting lucky." He chuckled uncomfortably. "I meant he's had a lot of trouble finding women who are interested in him for who he is instead of what he does. It's not an easy life. We've seen it firsthand."

  It was the second time he said "we," and I was beginning to wonder if he was married. I glanced at his ring finger, but he might be the type of guy who didn't wear a ring.

  Annalisa poked her head in and pointed to the kitchen. "Be back in just a sec," she said before disappearing.

  I signaled for Stewie to come in and sit in one of the chairs across from me. "Who's 'we?'" I asked. My stomach was already turning over the possibility that Stewie was married and what that might do to Annalisa.

  "Our friends. We're a really loyal group." I breathed a sigh of relief as he went on. "We sort of follow him around and make sure he's okay. Most of us work for him in one way or another. Troy—you know about him—he handles Sean's website and watches for false—keeps an eye on online stuff. I take care of the promo side of things. Rudy was the biggest offensive lineman at our high school—he's the head of Sean's security team."

  "Security? Like a bodyguard?" Wow, he needed a bodyguard?

  Stewie winced, and I could tell this was something he wasn't supposed to mention. "Uh—yeah. Sean gets hassled sometimes. You know how people are when they think you can hand them money."

  I thought about Brent and the power he thought I would have, well, the power I would give to him when I inherited money. I hated that—being used for what you have or might get, and above all else, I hated money. Money made people greedy. It gave them something to hold over you or made others gravitate toward the comfort they thought money would provide. Mom always said nothing was as rewarding as earning something for yourself, and with my life experiences, I couldn't agree more.

  Even though I had imagined that Sean made a lot of money
—like maybe $80K a year or maybe even $100K—that wouldn't put him into the "can hand anyone money" category. I couldn't blurt out the question, "How much is he worth," but the thought that he was really wealthy—like my grandfather wealthy—made me not want to touch him with a ten foot pole. I tried to tone down the uneasiness in my stomach. "So Sean can just hand people money?"

  Stewie nodded and narrowed his eyes. "He's very wealthy, but you knew that, didn't you?" I shook my head, but his disbelief at that was written all over his skeptical face. "Well, now you know. And now you know there's no reason to worry about him flying me or every one of our friends wherever he wants to just on a whim. He buys whatever he wants and can give his friends money when they need it, if you catch my meaning."

  I couldn't figure out where he was going with that. It just didn't fit with the Sean I'd come to know. "Why don't you clarify it for me?"

  Stewie's eyes narrowed even more. "He could easily get you out of financial trouble."

  I swallowed hard but tried not to show any other reaction. This was why Stewie had been sent here—to see what I was after. Sean actually thought I would take money from him or try? The hurt over that burned all the way down my throat, but I forced a smile. "Right," I said slowly. "But that's tens of thousands of dollars. Why would he do that? What would be in it for him?"

  "Well, for Sean, that's sort of like you or me handing a homeless guy a ten dollar bill." Stewie shrugged, but maintained eye contact. "And as for what's in it for him, I'm sure you'd be incredibly grateful."

  The way he raised his eyebrow made me so nauseous. So this was how he planned to make me the next "she meant nothing." I felt really stupid and gullible and angry and hurt and still in disbelief. He'd been so nice on the phone, so warm and genuine. Flippantly, I said, "A fairy godmother. Must be my lucky day."

  "I'll just give him a call and let him know you're okay with that," he said, smugly pulling out his cell phone.

  "Oh, please, allow me?" I put my hand out to him since Sean hadn't answered my call earlier. He looked a little worried, but seemed to write it off and passed me the phone.

  Sean immediately started in the second he answered the phone. "Is she pissed? Is she as hot as she looks in the picture? Is she—"

  "Hearing everything you're saying?" I finished for him.

  "Morgan?"

  "Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to thank you so much for sending Stewie here." I stood up and pulled on my coat, one arm at a time. "He's been so helpful, in fact, that he can leave. He's worked out that little arrangement you sent him here for, and I'm sure plenty of girls have jumped at the chance to give you their body in exchange for twenty grand—which he says is like a ten dollar bill for you —but I'm sure as hell not one of them."

  "No! Morgan, I have no idea what he said to you, but—"

  "Spare me. This conversation is over. Don't call, don't text, and get your piece of shit pimp off my property before I call the police." I didn't give him time to respond but threw the phone at Stewie and walked out the door.

  You Wanna See How This Plays or Walk?

  The second the cold air hit me, my hands started shaking and tears threatened to roll down my cheeks. I liked Sean. I never imagined he'd send his friend to proposition me. But who the hell was I kidding? I didn't know the guy. I had no idea what he was capable of. He was dangling money now, and maybe fists of anger and kicking later? No. I refused to get anywhere near a situation like that again.

  I drove out to the lake where Cerise and I used to spend the summer at the cabin that had been in her family for generations. I had a lot of happy memories there, but it didn't help me calm down. I parked at Old Man Dennison's Bait Shop and walked to my usual thinking spot overlooking the long stretch of water. It was chilly, but I kept a pair of old snow boots in the trunk just in case, so the cold wasn't bad enough to keep me inside my SUV.

  No surprise, my phone was vibrating like crazy in my pocket. It had been a good thirty minutes since I'd stormed out of the inn, but I still couldn't speak. I got to my text message screen and sent a message to Cerise and Annalisa, telling them both that I was fine, but then turned off the phone altogether.

  Sitting on what I'd come to think of as "my bench" in the middle of a patch full of yellow daisies—well in the spring and summer there were daisies there—I tried to reason through how I wound up getting myself tangled with guys like Brent and Sean. No. I couldn't put Sean in with Brent. I still just couldn't believe he thought I'd jump at money. We'd talked about my past. He knew I was determined to do things on my own. I remembered the deep warmth in his tired voice as we talked each other to sleep each night. The way he said "sweetie" all slow and raspy made me practically glow. I hadn't felt that in such a long time. I tried to remember if I'd even felt that with Brent, but I couldn't block out the traumatic parts of our relationship enough to focus on anything else.

  A half hour later, the clouds started rolling in, and I reluctantly acknowledged that I'd have to leave my bench.

  "Morgan?"

  I closed my eyes at the sound of Cerise's voice. If anyone was going to come after me, I knew it'd be Cerise, not that I really minded. She was the person I was closest to now that I didn't have Mom anymore. The weight of everything on my shoulders felt deadly as I thought of Mom, the inn trouble, Stewie being no help at all, and no more carefree conversations with Sean, no more breaks from the stress. I closed my eyes and forced the tears back.

  Cerise sat on the bench next to me and spread a blanket over top of our laps, pulling my gloved hand into hers. "Where do you want to start?"

  I shook my head. "I can't right now," I said softly, knowing she wanted me to tell her everything.

  "Sean really got to you, didn't he?"

  I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and the tears practically laughed at my attempts to control them, spilling onto my cheeks in a pathetic way. Cerise put her arms around me. "Stewie feels awful, Morgan. He didn't realize what he was doing. Sean didn't tell him anything about your past, and Stewie thought Sean was getting too attached to you for him not to put you to the test. Sean had nothing to do with it. I had him on speaker phone, Morgan. You should have heard him cussing Stewie out."

  A small portion of my heart lightened a bit, which is when I shut down completely and stood up with my shoulders back. "No. I'm not letting this happen again. No more 'I'm sorry,' no 'It won't happen again'—I can't. I just can't."

  "I know. But no one's perfect, Morgan. You know that right? Everyone screws up. The question is whether or not that person knew they were doing something that would hurt you to begin with. Brent knew he was hurting you, so his apologies didn't mean shit. Sean didn't know what Stewie was doing. In fact, he told Stewie to keep his questions to himself and his eyes and hands off you."

  I leaned against the railing enclosing the walkway around the lake. Was there a distinction in how someone hurt you? I supposed. I turned back to Cerise. "He has a lot of money. I don't think I can—"

  "Money doesn't make everyone a total shit. Your uncle had money and look what he did. He was constantly sending things for you and then he left your mom the inn. But maybe Sean is an ass when it comes to his money. And maybe he donates a boatload to all kinds of charities and gives it to his friends and family. The point is, you don't know and you never will if you bury your head in the sand, waiting for someone who never messes up. And Sean didn't even mess up, Stewie did."

  Damn, she was right. Why was she always right? I turned around to look at her, and she immediately smiled, standing up and putting her hand out to me. "You can call him from the car while we thaw out a bit."

  I had no idea what to say to him other than, "Keep your damn money to yourself and take your friend back too." I wasn't about to have him staying under my roof with his pushy suspiciousness. What kind of guy does that to the girl his friend is talking to? As we reached my SUV, I had to reluctantly admit that he was protecting his friend. I likely would have done something similar for Cerise or Annalisa. Even so,
it was tough not to be angry when I thought of him.

  I stared down at my phone. "I'm not sorry for kicking Stewie out or yelling at Sean."

  "You don't have to be. He deserved it. He should have told you more about himself so you weren't blindsided, especially since you'd talked about Brent."

  I nodded in complete agreement. But, how did she know we had talked about Brent? "How often do you talk to him, and does he repeat everything we've talked about?"

  She winced. "I knew I'd slip somewhere. He uh, he texted me wanting Brent's last name."

  "What?" I fairly screamed.

  "I know, I know. I didn't give it to him, but he couldn't get it out of his head—I can't wait to see what he does when he finds out all of it."

  "Cerise," I warned.

  "I'm not telling him, that's for damn sure. But Morgan, he's gonna figure it out." She reached over and patted my hand. "You still flinch too easily around guys."

  I shook my head. "No I don't." But she stared at me, sincerity written all across her face. I looked down at my phone again. "Really?" I thought I had gotten so much better with covering that up, but Cerise knew me well enough to read my eyes when no one else could. "This is getting too complicated."

  "There's always the Alvin route. Which is more important, automatic safety and not having to share the awful details or someone who fills you with tense excitement, whose voice makes you smile wide and your eyes light up, and who is at this very moment dialing my phone a hundred times?"

  "He is?"

  She smiled knowingly. She knew exactly how to play me. "It's hasn't stopped vibrating in my pocket since I left the inn."

  "Oh." I turned my phone on and stared at his contact information.

  "So what's the call? You wanna give this a shot and see how it plays, or walk?"

  I stared out the window and thought about it all. Maybe we wouldn't be attracted to each other in person. Maybe we wouldn't have anything to talk about face-to-face. Maybe he had annoying habits I couldn't put up with. There were a hundred ways this could go that had nothing to do with money or the fact that we met through an accidental text message. I liked him enough to at least keep talking to him.