Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Her relaxation was short-lived, though, when she heard her grandmother’s voice calling her from her room. She raced inside, but no one was there.

  “Tara, where are you? I tried the kitchen, but you weren’t there. Are you upstairs?” Her voice came from a call box on the wall next to the bed that Tara hadn’t noticed before. She went over to it, pushed the little silver button, and said, “Yes, Grandmother. I’m up in my room. I was just out on the deck admiring the view. I’ll be right down.”

  She quickly closed the French door and then hurried down the stairs to the second-floor hallway and into her grandmother’s room. The old woman was sitting up in bed with the covers tucked around her as if she was cold.

  When she spotted Tara, she smiled. “I was worried when I couldn’t find you. Especially, since there’s an intercom system throughout the house. Each room has a call box. I was beginning to think you might have gone out somewhere.”

  “Sorry, Grandmother. I checked on you before I went upstairs, and you were sleeping so soundly, I thought I’d spend some time settling into my room. Luckily, I left the French door open or I wouldn’t have heard you. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know when I go outside.”

  She patted Tara’s hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’d appreciate that. I know I probably worry too much, but it’s a habit I’m afraid, at eighty-seven, I won’t be able to break.”

  “I made soup. It should be just about ready. Would you like some?”

  “That would be wonderful. I haven’t had homemade soup in ages. I’ve never been much of a cook, and after Addison died, I let Maggie go. Didn’t seem right to keep her on just for me.”

  Listening to her grandmother’s words made Tara even happier that she’d decided to spend time with her. It was clear Addison’s death had left her very depressed. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  Her grandmother shook her head. “Not right now.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back with your soup.” Tara hurried downstairs, tested the vegetables to make sure they were soft enough, and then filled a bowl with some soup for her grandmother and another for herself.

  She looked around for a tray and found one in the cabinet above the sink. She rinsed it off and, as she was drying it, glanced out the kitchen window. In the Douglas’s backyard were Bennett, the maintenance guy, and she guessed it must be Boyd, remembering the picture her grandmother had showed her earlier. By their angry expressions and flailing arms, they appeared to be arguing. Wonder what that was about? When the maintenance guy looked over at her grandmother’s house, she quickly moved away from the window, then set the soup bowls on the tray and hurried upstairs.

  Her grandmother was dozing when she entered her room, but woke when Tara set the tray on the table beside the bed.

  “That soup smells wonderful,” she said while propping the pillows up behind her.

  “And tastes pretty good too, if I do say so myself.” Tara handed her a bowl and took the other for herself. “Careful, it’s hot,” she warned as her grandmother stuck her spoon into the soup.

  The old woman puckered her thin lips and blew into the bowl. “What do you think of your room? Is it to your liking?”

  “I love it. It’s lovely. And the view is spectacular.”

  “I knew you’d like it up there. That’s why I had Samantha clean it up for you.”

  “Samantha?” Tara was glad to learn her grandmother hadn’t traipsed up all those stairs after all.

  She wrinkled her nose. “She was a lazy thing. I had to keep tabs on her all the time to make sure she was doing her work and not doing that thing young people do all the time on their cell phones.”

  Tara laughed. “You mean texting?”

  “Yes, that’s it. Samantha was always typing away on that thing. She only lasted here about a week, and I can’t say that I was sorry to see her go.”

  “Well, she did a nice job cleaning my room.” Tara took a careful sip of soup. “You know, Grandmother, I’ve been thinking…if you don’t mind, of course, I’d like to clean up the rest of the house. Declutter it, open up the shutters and windows to air it out, that sort of thing. It’ll be healthier for you.” She looked up from the bowl to risk a glance at her grandmother, hoping she hadn’t offended her. To her relief, the old woman was smiling.

  “Of course, my dear. Do whatever you like. I’m not surprised that you’re not fond of this dark, gloomy place. It was Addison’s idea to keep it closed up, and I’ve kept up the tradition. I guess it’s time for a change, isn’t it?”

  “I’d say it’s way past time. Another thing I’d like to do is hire someone to spruce up the outside. Fix the rotted clapboards, cut the grass, prune the shrubs…”

  “I think that’s a fine idea. Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here?”

  Tara grinned at her. “Just a few times.”

  They chatted while they ate their soup, until her grandmother started coughing and set her bowl on the tray. “Thank you, darling. That was delicious.”

  “You’re welcome. Is it time for you to take some cough medicine?”

  Her grandmother looked at the clock on the bedside table and nodded. Tara set her bowl on the tray too, then picked up the bottle and poured some syrup into the measuring cup top before handing it to her.

  After her grandmother drank it, she grimaced. “Nasty stuff, but it does the trick and helps me sleep too.”

  Tara looked at the bottle’s label and saw that it contained codeine. “When was the last time you saw the doctor?”

  “Not long. Maybe two weeks. Believe it or not, Dr. Ladd still makes house calls.” She looked at Tara and the line between her brows deepened. “I can see the worry in your eyes.” She took hold of Tara’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere. Especially now that you’re part of my life.”

  Tears burned the back of her lids as she squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Have I told you how happy I am to be here?”

  “Hmm, not that I recall, but then my memory’s not what it used to be.” She chuckled.

  Tara kissed her cheek, then picked up the tray. “If you need me, just buzz.”

  “I will.” A contented smile formed on her lips as she closed her eyes.

  ~*~

  Tara washed and dried the soup bowls, then put them away in the kitchen cabinet. She glanced out the window above the sink. The sun was setting, and the sky was ablaze with color. She pressed the button on the call box mounted on the wall next to her. “Grandmother, are you awake?”

  “Yes, dear. What is it?” But her voice sounded groggy, as if Tara had woken her.

  “I’m going to go out back for about fifteen minutes to get some fresh air.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be here.” She let out a little laugh, but then was besieged with a series of coughs. When they stopped she said, “Enjoy the sunset. It’s gorgeous at this time of day.”

  “I will. I’ll check on you again in a little while.” She lifted her finger off the button.

  Before going outside, Tara took the back stairs off the kitchen up to her room so as not to bother her grandmother. She grabbed a cardigan sweater out of her duffle bag and slipped it on over her thin, sleeveless cotton dress. The breeze off the water might make it a little chilly.

  She hurried down the stairs and out the back door. She had to weave around a tangle of overgrown bushes to reach the beach. Once there, she took off her sandals and carried them until she came to the pier. After hopping up onto it, she slipped her shoes back on, not wanting to risk getting splinters from the wooden boards. As she wandered down the pier, she noticed someone standing at its end, staring out at the water. This was as good a time as any to introduce herself to one of her neighbors. As she got nearer, the person turned around. It was the maintenance guy. She kept walking, but it was a little unnerving the way he was staring at her. When she reached the end of the pier and stood in front of him, he still didn’t shift his gaze, making her feel like his magnetic
hazel eyes could see right through her. He was even better looking up close. Hard to believe that was even possible.

  “You must be the new home health aide. I think this makes number five.” His voice was deep and rich. Another quality that most women must find irresistible.

  Tara had no idea her grandmother had gone through so many. They probably hadn’t liked working in such a dark, creepy house. She held out her hand. “No, I’m the granddaughter.” He raised a brow at her, but accepted her handshake. She had to pull away suddenly, though, when a gust of wind blew her dress up to the top of her thighs. She yanked it down, but not before he’d gotten a good look at her legs. Red-faced, she quickly added, “I’m Tara. I saw you when I first arrived doing some work out front for Mr. Douglas.”

  “You mean washing the car.”

  “Yes. I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing some work for my grandmother. Yard work, though. That is, if Mr. Douglas doesn’t mind.” She spun around to look at the back of the house, making sure to hold the hem of her dress down. “As you can see, the yard is completely overgrown.”

  “Are you going to watch me do it?” His voice was like velvet now.

  She spun back around. “Excuse me?”

  “If I agree to clean up the place, are you going to watch me do it, like you watched me wash the car?” He grinned.

  Her cheeks burned hotter, and she was at a loss for words.

  “I take it your silence is a no.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. “I’ll let Tony know your grandmother needs yard work done. He’s the gardener. I’m the son—Easton Douglas. Pleasure to meet you.” He pushed past her, then looked back over his shoulder. “And that Mercedes is mine.”

  She heard him chuckle as he walked away. She’d pegged him right from the start. He was trouble, no doubt about it.

  Chapter 2

  When Easton entered the house, he was still smiling, until he spotted Bennett seated at the kitchen table.

  “I see you met the hottie next door. Who is she, another aide?”

  “And I see you’ve been spying on me. Aren’t you ever going to go home?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Easton bit his tongue, not wanting to get into another argument with his cousin. They’d never gotten along. Not even as children. And the older they got, the more their animosity grew. Easton might be the family black sheep, but Bennett was the family ass.

  He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and, before heading up to his room, answered Bennett’s question about Tara. “She’s not an aide. She’s Emily’s granddaughter.” It gave him great satisfaction to see the look of horror on Bennett’s face. “What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” he taunted.

  “Is she here for just the summer?”

  Easton shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s cleaning up the place.” He laughed. “She tried to hire me to do yard work.”

  Bennett’s gaze scanned him from head to toe. “I’m not surprised that she’d mistake you for the help.” When Easton didn’t answer, Bennett went on. “Ah, so now you’ve got nothing to say.”

  “Why bother? There’s no sense talking to you.” He left the kitchen and had almost reached his bedroom door, when his father spotted him in the upstairs hall.

  “You’ll be at work on time tomorrow.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Yep.” Easton stepped into his room and closed the door before his father could expound on the importance of punctuality. Instead of turning on the lamp, he flopped onto the bed and lay in the semi-dark. He flipped open the beer, then took a good, long drink before setting it on his nightstand. After folding his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling and watched the shadows shift as the wind blew in from his open window, ruffling the curtains.

  Another summer at Breakers Island. The difference with this one from all the others was that he’d promised his grandfather he’d consider staying on at the brewery and not go back to Boston in the fall. It was no secret that his grandfather hoped he’d take over managing it. He was certainly qualified enough to do that, having just gotten his graduate’s degree in business. That wasn’t the problem. It was his dad…and Bennett. You’d think they were father and son the way their minds were in sync—plotting and scheming how to cut corners. That was what led to the argument earlier. They wanted to use inferior ingredients to the ones that had put Spencer Douglas on the map.

  Easton might have been wild growing up. Ironic how his dad had been worried that his son’s partying and womanizing would give the family a bad name, but he wasn’t concerned about the brewery producing a lower-quality beer. Nope. It was all about the money. As if he didn’t already have enough.

  Easton was more like his grandfather. They were both honest men and disliked weasels. Being that Bennett was a huge one, that made working with him on a daily basis something Easton didn’t enjoy. To make matters worse, his cousin was practically staying at their house. The guy only lived about thirty minutes away and could easily make the commute from the mainland to the island each day, but he preferred to stay in the Douglas mansion. And why not? He had the beach for a backyard, people to wait on him, and most importantly, it gave him more time to try to drive Easton away. Bennett just might succeed too, if things continued the way they were going.

  Maybe things would improve, though, now that a pretty girl had moved in next door. He closed his eyes, visualizing her long, shapely legs and how he’d gotten to see a lot more of them when her dress blew up in the wind. He smiled as he remembered how embarrassed she’d been. Her cheeks had turned the color of a ripe tomato and her eyes—those gorgeous slate-blue eyes—had deepened to the color of the sea. Yeah, she was hot all right, but what intrigued him even more was that she didn’t seem to know it. That could make her a prime target of Bennett’s, though, and not just because of her innocence and beauty, but because she was Addison Spencer’s granddaughter.

  So not only did Easton have to look out for the brewery, but he now had to keep watch over Tara too.

  ~*~

  Tara turned onto her side, then onto her back. It’s not that the bed was uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. It was nicer than her bed at home. Maybe it was because she was in a strange place that she couldn’t sleep. She glanced at the clock on her phone and groaned. Two a.m. She flipped onto her other side and closed her eyes. Instead of drifting off, though, the day’s events ran through her mind, lingering on her encounter on the pier with Easton. She felt like such a fool to have asked if she could hire him to clean up her grandmother’s yard. But her embarrassment had quickly turned to irritation when he mocked her, and her anger lingered still. How could she have known he was Boyd Douglas’s son? He certainly didn’t look the part. And compared to Bennett, who had the air of a millionaire, well, Easton looked like a maintenance guy.

  Wide awake now and hungry too, she decided to go downstairs and get something to eat. She found a jar of peanut butter in the pantry, along with a box of crackers that she hoped wasn’t stale. Just as she was about to pop one into her mouth to find out, she heard a noise in the other room. It sounded like a footstep and then a muffled voice. She froze. Her heart thundered against her chest. Who would be in the house?

  Her gaze scanned the pantry for a weapon. The only thing she saw that she could use was the broom in the corner. She tiptoed into the kitchen, prepared to strike, if need be, and was glad she’d left the light on over the sink before she’d gone up to bed so she wasn’t in the dark now. She made her way into the hall, but stopped suddenly when she heard the muffled voice again and the creak of another footstep, and then the sound of breaking glass. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She tightened her grip on the broom handle as she crept toward the library. When she reached the doorway, she raised the broom high, ready to clobber the intruder over the head if he came at her.

  A second later, there was a shriek. “Tara, what are you doing?” Her grandmother appeared from out of the darkness.<
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  Tara lowered the broom, careful not to hit her. “What are you doing? You nearly scared me to death. Why are you creeping around in the dark, and who were you talking to?”

  Her grandmother stepped into the hall to stand beside her. “Addison.”

  Tara swallowed hard. “Grandfather?”

  “He goes away if I turn on the lights.”

  Tara stared at her, trying to grasp what she meant. Was the old woman losing her mind? “I’m not sure I know what you’re saying.”

  “Addison’s not ready to leave here yet.”

  “As in he’s a ghost?”

  “I don’t like to think of him that way. To me, he’s still just my husband, clumsy as ever.” Her grandmother took the broom from Tara’s hand. “This’ll work well for sweeping up the glass. He knocked a vase off the bookcase.”

  Tara wondered if the codeine in her grandmother’s cough medicine was making her delirious. She followed her into the library and quickly turned on the fringed lamp on the desk before one of them stepped on broken glass or tripped over something. The last thing she wanted was to have to take a trip to the emergency room.

  Once the glass was cleaned up, and before getting her grandmother settled back in bed, she checked to make sure the doors were locked. After that scare, Tara was still uneasy. To her shock, the dead bolt on the front door was unlocked.

  “I never bother to lock the door,” her grandmother said with a swish of her hand. “No one here does. The island’s very safe.”

  Tara chewed her bottom lip and decided enough was enough. She turned the bolt. “Since I’m from New Hampshire and everyone locks their doors there, I’d feel better if we kept them locked here too.”