Getaway Gone Wrong (Team Northwest Sweet Romance Book 2)

by Lia London

  The cashier, a woman in the nebulous forty-ish range, scanned her items. “You like breakfast for dinner?”

  “I didn’t know where to go for dinner.” Parker handed her a ten-dollar bill.

  “Oh, there’s bunches of places to eat.”

  “I guess I wasn’t up for exploring without a recommendation from a local.”

  “Oh, well—”

  Parker held up her hand to cut off the woman’s suggestions. By now, she felt weary and hungry, and small talk wasn’t on her list of things to do. “It’s okay. I’ll come and check everything out in the morning. For now, I need to eat something.”

  “Okay, well you still owe me another $2.63.”

  “What?” Parker stared at the two-item purchase. “How can those cost over …?”

  The woman yawned. “Island prices. Most of us go to Costco in Anacortes once a month and stock up. Gets spendy buying here.” She whispered past the back of her hand. “The market on Prune Alley is cheaper. Why didn’t you just go there?”

  “Prune Alley. Right. I’ll go tomorrow.” Parker fished out more change. “So, is it true all the locals know each other?”

  “Pretty much. At least by sight. There’s only about four thousand of us. The people in Olga and Deer Harbor kind of keep to themselves. Rich people and all. But yeah, a lot of us know each other.”

  “Ever heard of Guy Fox?”

  “Sure, everybody knows Guy. He and Booster are an institution.”

  “Really?” Parker tucked the cereal under her arm and grabbed the jug of milk. “What kind of institution? Like an asylum, or a prison?”

  The cashier rocked with laughter. “Well he’s the smartest guy that ever flunked out of high school, isn’t he?”

  “Flunked out of …” Parker’s mouth fell open.

  “How do you know Guy?”

  “Uh, we go way back. He helped me break into my car on the ferry this afternoon.”

  The woman guffawed. “That’s Guy all right.” She continued to laugh as Parker left the store, wondering what exactly was so funny.

  Working her way slowly back to her cottage, Parker decided she could forego another encounter with Mr. Guy Flunkie. Sure, he’d been nice enough to help her with the car, but she didn’t have time for quitters and losers.

  The Lucky Charms proved satisfying enough, and Parker decided to take a hot shower and retire early for the night.

  Except the shower refused to produce any hot water, and she had no way to complain about it until the office opened in the morning.

  Burrowed under the blankets, she practiced the harangue she would deliver to the studio execs as soon as she called the next day. This was not a reward for her hard work. This was some kind of cruel joke.

  Guy went for his usual pre-dawn jog with Booster, and spent the first two miles reviewing the images of Daisy in his mind: her scowl, the flash of a smile she tried to hide, the shining intelligence in her eyes. The last two miles brought him back down to reality. She was visiting the island for whatever reason and would be gone. Besides, she seemed to find him annoying for some reason. Daisy was not his destiny.

  Still, after his shower, he took extra care to groom himself well, and sauntered into the main room. “Would it be creepy for me to Google her?” he asked Booster.

  Booster whined dramatically and flopped down on Guy’s feet as he sat at his desk.

  “It’ll only take me a second. I won’t stalk her social media accounts or anything.” Guy had learned not to trust anything people posted on social media anyway. Almost everyone tried too hard to impress, and he had little sympathy for the need to be adored by crowds.

  Daisy Parker, Los Angeles. He typed quickly, wishing he’d remembered more of her address from his brief glance at her driver’s license. “Bingo!” He selected the top entry and sat back to study. “She has a degree in photojournalism from Syracuse University in New York, now employed by Star Power Studios. Interesting.” Orcas Island attracted many creative types and people in the entertainment industry. He searched the article, but could not find where it specified her job title. Was she here scouting out networking possibilities? Might she be collaborating with some of the natives? Could she house-hunting?

  With a deep breath and steady logic, he talked himself back down. “She’s a big city girl.” A cold feeling settled into his stomach, and he closed the browser. “She won’t stay here long.”

  Booster whined in his sleep and gave a muffled “Woof”, as if spying a squirrel just out of reach.

  Consulting his schedule for the day, Guy mentally calculated what gear he would need to bring along for each. Usually patience and simple courtesy proved the most important tools of his trade, but Old Lady Mavis needed help again, and the appointment would require an extra helping of both.

  He opted to skip his usual healthy oatmeal and fruit for breakfast, and instead sweeten the day by getting something with more sugar in it.

  “I need a maple bar, Boo. You coming?”

  Booster whined at him groggily.

  “I’m taking the van. Want to go in the van?”

  Jumping up, Booster responded with a vigorous wag of his entire hind end. He was a van dog. If he could go with Guy anywhere in the van, he would literally leap at the chance, even if he had just run four miles.

  A mournful moan dragged Parker out of her deep slumber, and she tried to tune her ears to the sound. It came again, humming a duet with her grumbling, tight stomach.

  Moooaaahh!

  “What the …?”

  She sat up in bed and peeked through the curtains out the back window. There, in the misty meadow she had glimpsed the night before, grazed half a dozen cows and a family of deer. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Parker pondered the setting. Ocean—or rather, the Sound—view out front and a forest-fringed, free-range cow pasture out back.

  “I am definitely not in the Caribbean.” Groggy, she stared out at the scene. Heavy clouds balanced atop enormous trees, and the stillness of the scene accentuated the slightest movement: a flitting bird, the flick of the cow’s ear, and a yellow leaf wavering on twig before drifting down. Parker stretched, yawned, and flopped back, bewildered by the serenity. It almost appealed to her. “No big bugs. No sleazy bartenders. No swarms of tourists. I guess it’s not the worst place for a getaway.”

  Then she remembered that only Lucky Charms awaited her for breakfast. “Gaaaah!” She could drive into town and check out the market, but she still felt grubby from the day before. Crossing her eyes, she sagged. “Only one more week. I can do this.”

  She rolled off the bed and checked the kitchenette for signs of complimentary herbal tea bags, but found no standard hotel courtesy amenities at all. Not even shampoo or a tiny bar of soap.

  Fortunately, there was a towel and washcloth, so she braved a fifty-one-second cold shower to scrub the essentials, and donned fresh clothes.

  7:26am. She had been exhausted to sleep so long, but now she needed food. Real food.

  And a coat.

  As she crossed the parking lot towards the grocery store, Parker spotted the blue VW van. “Dang.” She pivoted and turned back, not ready to face Guy Fox yet. “But I’m really hungry.” She turned back. “He’ll think I’m following him.” She lowered her head and spun around. “No, this is too embarrassing.” With a stomp of her foot, she did an about face, her monologue growing louder. “This is dumb. Why should I care what he thinks? I’m getting some groceries. People do that.” She looked up to see Guy smiling at her, holding a maple bar.

  “Gaaaah!” Parker threw up her hands and marched back to her car.

  “Hey, Daisy! Wait up!”

  Pounding her fist on the roof of the car, she yelled, “It’s Parker!”

  “Fine. Parker.” He remained unruffled as he leaned sideways against her car. “You seem hangry. Want a bite?” He proffered the uneaten maple bar.

  Maple bars were her favorite. She snatched it from his hand and stuffed half the bar in her mouth. “Ha-hoo
,” she grumbled through the dough.

  “You’re very welcome,” he said, pressing a finger over a budding smile. “You want the whole thing? I know where to get more.”

  Parker glared at him, still chewing. “I’m sorry. Yes. I’m hangry. I’m also not used to coming across as a raving lunatic. Where I come from, I’m a boss.”

  “You eat maple bars like a boss,” he said with a playful grin.

  She narrowed her eyes and met his gaze. “Why are you everywhere I go?”

  He drew a little circle in the sky. “Island. Tiny. No place to hide.”

  “Gads, it’s the stuff of horror flicks.” Parker slumped, leaning her forehead on the roof of the car before cramming in another bite of maple bar. She held up the rest in his direction.

  “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  “Are people usually not nice to you?”

  “People usually respect me,” she said, facing him at last.

  “I respect you.” Nothing about his tone mocked her, yet she couldn’t fathom his motive for saying it.

  “Well … thank you.” Parker brandished the last piece of maple bar. “My favorite.” She chewed awkwardly, aware of his intense gaze, and folded her arms against the chill.

  “So, if you’re from L.A., do I assume you’re a famous soap star I’ve never heard of?”

  At the words ‘soap star’, she bristled. Had he guessed her connection? “No, but I worked with Team Northwest on Who Wants to Be a Soap Star?”

  “Oh.”

  “Ever watch it?”

  “Not after Jill Ripley and Antonio Seneca got voted off.”

  Parker couldn’t hide her pride. “Really? Those were my guys.”

  He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his thick jacket. “I mean, the whole premise was stupid—no offense—but they gave off a different vibe than the others. Smarter.”

  Parker blushed at the compliment, even though not directed at her. “I’ll be sure to tell them.”

  “Cool. Well, I guess I should get to work.” He didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

  “Oh. Right.” She licked the last of the maple frosting from her thumb. “Where do you work, anyway?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “The cable guy?”

  “If needed.”

  Her smile tightened. Nice man, but no real job or education. Oh well, what did it matter? This was probably the last time she’d bump into him, right?

  “See you around, Parker.” He sauntered off to the VW van.

  “Yeah.” He had called her Parker, finally.

  She drove half-way back to the cabin before she remembered she hadn’t bought groceries yet. What was wrong with her? Distracted by a scrawny, high school dropout island bum?! Making a U-turn in someone’s gravel driveway, she headed back to town to buy food and toiletries for the week.

  Disaster #4 ~ Spilled Tea

  “Guy! Speak of the devil!”

  “Hey, Delores.” Guy slapped a Milky Way and a Milk Bone on the counter. “The handsome devil?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her comically.

  “I don’t know, but some pretty young thing came in here last night and asked about you.”

  Guy’s stomach tripped into his windpipe and knocked an airy laugh out of his lungs. “Whaaaa?” He tried to concentrate on the debit card machine, but a pleasant rush of adrenaline had just poured into his system.

  Delores winked. “Where’d you meet her?”

  His mouth went dry. “Brunette? About this tall?” He held up his hand to his own ear’s height.

  “Uh-huuuh.” She dragged out her voice in a musical question. “Spill the goods, Guy. Who is she?” She stuffed her hands in her Country Corner apron.

  “So, she acted like she liked me?” He winced at his own desperation.

  “I didn’t get the impression she wanted to hire a hit man to take you out.” She tapped her ridiculously long, fake nails on the worn Formica. “You finally get a girlfriend?”

  Guy stiffened. “I’ve had girlfriends.”

  “You’ve had lots of girlfriends, but they never stick around long. Never could figure it out, sweet as you are.” She gave him a matronly pat on the arm.

  “I must be a terrible kisser.”

  “You could shave the beard, you know.”

  “It keeps me warm.”

  “Suit yourself, but a girlfriend would keep you warmer.” Delores dusted a speck off her sleeve and goaded him affectionately. “Is she a mail-order bride or something?”

  Guy rolled his eyes and swiped the snacks off the counter. “Delores, you are so mean to me. And after I fixed your ice machine for free.”

  “I broke it just so you’d visit me.” She gave him a saucy grin.

  “Right. Because I don’t stop in here more than once a day.” He shook his head and waved. “Bye Mama Delores.”

  “Don’t you Mama me! I’m only old enough to be—”

  “Bye Gramma Delores!” he teased, ducking out the door before the chip bag she threw at him could reach its mark.

  In the van, he handed the Milk Bone to Booster solemnly. “Boo. She asked about me. Daisy. What do you think of that?”

  Booster snuffled an affirmation before dropping off the seat and settling on the floor to gnaw his treat.

  “You’re not boosting my confidence, you know. That’s your job, Booster.”

  Booster thumped his tail and chewed.

  Guy chuckled and tore open his candy bar. “Oh, all right. Back to work. I’ve got one job left before I get to play.” He put the van in gear and headed north, wondering what Daisy had said specifically. Had she been annoyed? Curious? “Be nicer to her next time you see her,” he reprimanded himself. “No teasing.”

  His sigh faded into a frown. There might not be a next time. Even on an island this small, there were places to hide, secrets to keep.

  Andie apologized profusely about the faulty water heater in Parker’s cabin and assured her it would be fixed by the end of the workday. In the meantime, Parker snagged a blanket from her bed and strolled down to her appointed portion of the pebbled beach with a mystery thriller from the supermarket. That was the expectation, right? People on vacations read on the beach. This beach just happened to be freezing.

  Curled into a wooden deck chair, she alternately reread the same cliché opening paragraph and surveyed the view, feeling conflicted. Doing nothing felt strange, yet she had nothing pressing that needed doing. She had never experienced a vacation that abandoned the metropolitan world behind like this, and part of her wondered how her condominium HOA could add a waterway to the landscaping to provide even a miniature rendition of this view. Gray and cold as it was, it had a soothing quality.

  As expected, the narrow stretch of shore was sparsely populated. A couple with a toddler and a poodle searched for shells a hundred yards to her left, and a pair of gulls bobbed and flapped on the serene water off to her right. Her fingers twitched to reach for her phone, and after a few minutes she gave in. No messages. How was that possible? Had she already become obsolete? Wasn’t she needed to put out some fire at the studio?

  In her desperation to feel urgently solicited, she forgot to send her angry tirade about the dump of a resort. Instead, she stuffed the phone back in her pocket and ordered herself to read a chapter. Her eyes, instead, flitted out to the water, as the solitude and natural beauty offered relaxation that a jacuzzi tub and cucumber-lavender lotion couldn’t. A different kind of luxury.

  From the direction of the lodge, the warm tones of a classical cello lifted a melody onto the breeze, and she wondered if the afternoon’s tea party featured a recital. Nuzzled under her blanket, she closed her eyes. Except for her cold nose, the rest of her felt better than it had in weeks. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the sound of laughter roused her. A couple strolled along the dirt-packed lane that connected the line of cabins and headed up the steps of the lodge.

  Par
ker straightened her legs, stiff with cold, and checked the time on her phone. 3:31. How had she slept so long?

  Stretching and rewrapping the blanket about her shoulders, she dropped her paperback on the chair and wandered up to the lodge. The broad porch reminded her of verandas from days gone by. She could imagine fine ladies with Gibson-girl hairdos in tight-waisted dresses with puffed sleeves sipping tea and discussing the scandalous implications of women’s suffrage. Smoothing her hair back from her face, she stepped inside and draped her blanket over the back of an antique chair, nodding at the three other guests who sat in a beautiful old sofa with carved feet.

  Andie greeted at her from behind a table laden with fancy silver serving trays.

  “This is quite a spread!” Parker perused the delicate pastries. “It’s like stepping back in time. Except I see a gourmet coffee maker over there.”

  “Yes, most of the furniture is original, as are the glass-pane work and rafters.”

  Parker let her head drop back as she gazed at the high ceiling and the artwork hanging on the white plastered walls. “It’s lovely.” Picking up one of the curly cookies, she sighed. “So, I looked at the vouchers that Star Power left for me, and they’re all expired.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” The woman frowned sympathetically. “I bet you could find some coupons online.”

  “If I could get online,” mumbled Parker through crumbs. The internet on her phone had been very patchy.

  She reached for one of the decorative teacups and poured herself a steaming drink. “Did I hear a live cello in here earlier?”

  “Oh yes. We have an instrument from 1927 in our antique collection. One of our locals comes to play it now and then. It helps keep the instrument in tune, he says. I think he’s around here somewhere.” She pointed past Parker’s shoulder. “Yes, there he is!”