He tried not to smile. “Secret’s safe with me.”
“Some people wait for their wedding.” Becky swirled the wine in her glass and looked out at the water.
Tank geared up for a major deflection in case she started grilling him about his personal life. There was no way he was going there with her.
“Some people can do it,” she said with surprising authority. “But not me.” Her head went back and her eyes closed. Tank thought she looked very sad.
“How ’bout I get you to bed?”
Her eyes flew open, and she smiled seductively. “Really, Mr. Kimball?”
He swallowed. No wonder guys fell all over her. Becky was an open invitation, appealing even in this state.
She took a hold of his hand and swayed as she maneuvered out of her chair. Tank took her glass and put it on the table. “Give me your other hand.”
She braced herself on the table and then slowly raised her hand up to his shoulder. “Please, I have to touch your trasp ...” she giggled and fell into his chest.
Tank rolled his eyes and scooped her up into his arms. “Where’s your room?” He started toward the door while she made herself way too comfortable exploring his shoulders. He gave her a little shake. “Just hold on. Stop doing ... that.” He tried to sound firm and intimidating, but she just giggled and snuggled into his chest.
He grabbed the door handle and somehow managed to get her inside. He stepped carefully around Burt, who was sleeping on his mat just inside the door.
“Your room?”
He shook her again, but she had fallen asleep.
***
Tank flipped a pancake and checked the sausages. The coffee had turned out well, thanks to his sister and her great little shop. He glanced at the clock, wondering when Becky’s guests would wander in. He contemplated how he might discourage the jerk who’d propositioned the innkeeper.
He didn’t have long to plan.
“Good morning. Oh! I was expecting Becky!” A sleepy female voice interrupted his thoughts.
He turned. “Morning.”
An attractive brunette smiled tentatively at him. “Mind if I have some coffee?”
“Sure, help yourself,” he replied, not sure what the morning routine was, since he’d never been a part of it. He regretted that momentarily. It would be nice to know what he should be doing for these people.
“I’m Dana Reynolds,” she said, pouring coffee into the mug Tank handed her. “My husband will be down in a few minutes.”
“I’m Tank,” he replied. “Breakfast will be right up. Cream’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Where’s Becky?”
Tank flipped the last pancake and started piling the finished ones onto a platter. “She was a little under the weather this morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mrs. Reynolds seemed genuinely concerned. “Are you her husband?”
Tank dropped a pancake on the floor. “Nope. Just helping out.”
“Where’s Ms. Jacobs?” There was only one person to whom that voice could belong.
Tank turned slowly and regarded the loser who’d been so quick to dismiss his pretty wife and hit on Becky. Girls would consider him handsome, Tank supposed. Fit, but scrawny.
“She’s not available this morning.” He looked squarely at the guest. “Guess I kept her out too late last night.” He wasn’t necessarily trying to flex, but it seemed like a good time to reach up and grab another frying pan; not that he needed one.
“Oh,” Mrs. Reynolds smiled at the thought.
Her husband bristled, but didn’t appear ready to challenge Tank. Few people did.
Tank continued to glower as he picked up the plate of food and moved toward his guests. Mr. Reynolds quickly made room for him, but Tank made it a point to stop and stand very close. Sometimes it was useful to tower.
“I’ll be getting you whatever you need this morning.”
***
Becky yawned and stretched and cringed at the pounding in her head. She squinted at the obnoxious sunlight pouring through the curtains, then sat bolt upright. It wasn’t supposed to be pouring, yet. She glanced at the clock in fear.
Eleven o’clock! Maddy was going to kill her! What were her new guests thinking? Were they furious? She wasn’t so worried about Tank. She threw off the covers and froze.
Tank.
Oh! Why did he have to come out to the porch and witness her stupidity? She put her head in her hands. What had she said to him? What had she done? Patchy memories fought for her groggy attention. Something about trapezoids haunted her, but she really didn’t want to think about it.
She stood up slowly. She’d think about Tank later. She had more pressing concerns.
***
“We had a nice breakfast. Your boyfriend took care of everything.”
Becky choked on her coffee, glad she didn’t spit it right out in Mrs. Reynolds’ face. She cleared her throat and pasted on a smile, trying to wrap her pounding head around the idea of Tank making breakfast for her guests. Who else could it possibly have been?
“What a guy. I’m sorry I wasn’t available to take care of you myself.”
Mrs. Reynolds flipped through the magazine in her lap. “He was very attentive. I enjoyed our breakfast very much.”
Very attentive? Maybe they weren’t talking about the same person. She couldn’t imagine Tank in the kitchen, much less cooking and serving strangers with a smile. Becky tried to still the pounding in her head with her hand. She would never drink wine again.
“I don’t think he cares much for my husband.”
Becky’s head snapped to attention and she regretted it immediately. “He wasn’t rude, was he?” This, she could imagine.
“Oh no, nothing like that. It was just one of those things. You can tell when men don’t like each other.” Mrs. Reynolds fingered one of the buttons on her blouse. She seemed very taken with the magazine in her lap.
Becky would kill Tank if he was rude to Maddy’s guests - right after she thanked him for completely bailing her out and cooking breakfast for them. She couldn’t make any sense of it. Why would he help her like that? She ventured into the scary territory of the evening before. They couldn’t possibly have ...
She shook her head. No way. Done with men forever. She repeated her mantra several times to regain her emotional footing.
Becky looked out over the water, willing Maddy’s ocean to calm her. She’d have to go find Tank and thank him. Her stomach, already unsettled, rebelled at the prospect. The idea of running into Mr. Reynolds on the way was enough to make her run screaming down the beach, even with her headache.
She took a deep breath. Maddy was coming home tonight. She had to get this sorted out. She would be professional with her guests, and she’d thank Tank and send him packing. Then she would make every effort to insure that she never, ever saw him again.
six
Becky slowly climbed the stairs, considering how to knock on Tank’s door (tap, rap, pound?) and dreading the brutally uncomfortable interaction that was sure to follow. What he must think of her, she didn’t care to contemplate. She still hadn’t processed the extent of her drunken rant. Had she really told him about sleeping with someone after Maddy’s wedding? She desperately hoped she imagined that part. She’d agonized over it enough in her private thoughts.
Drawing a fortifying breath, she walked down the hall, slowing when she noted that his door stood ajar. Should she knock or call out?
Knocking was definitely less scary, so she tapped lightly on the door.
No response.
She tapped again. Nothing.
“Mr. Kimball?”
She pushed gently on the door. The room was empty.
Tank had cleared out with all of his stuff. Becky stood in the middle of the room, her hands planted on her hips. Figures; coward.
She walked to the window and looked out at the beach. Well, she got what she wanted. Tank was gone, and she didn’t eve
n have to apologize; not yet, anyway. She should be very relieved.
She crossed the room and yanked the sheets from the bed, wondering when she’d see him so she could put the whole mess behind her. She didn’t like loose ends. What if he told Grace?
No doubt, he would. Becky sighed. So much for that friendship. She carried the sheets down to the laundry room, and heard Burt fussing at the front door.
Maybe Tank hadn’t left, yet. There might still be a chance to get this all resolved before he moved out.
She started the load, smoothed her hair and made her way through the house. Burt was definitely waiting for someone to make an appearance. Whoever it was, was not coming in on their own.
No way it’s Tank.
Her momentary disappointment was just that. Becky reached the door and hauled it open. The handsome guy from the coffee shop - Grace’s guy - stood on the porch.
“Come on in,” Becky said, seamlessly switching gears into charm mode. “Nice to see you again ...”
“Alex,” he supplied.
“Right. Becky,” she said, taking his hand. “Grace said you might be stopping by.”
He stepped inside. “And this is?” He reached his hand out to Burt, who was desperately trying to get around Becky to say hello. She’d gotten pretty good at holding the one hundred plus pound dog at bay while greeting the guests.
“This is Burt. He’s very gentle, but very big. Guess that’s obvious.”
Alex didn’t seem concerned about the dog’s size, and greeted the animal with the ease of a dog lover. “Grace said you might have a room available?”
“Sure. No problem. Come on over here and I’ll get some information.”
He followed her into the small office area, and in a few minutes Becky had everything she needed, including a credit card. Nice dealing with a normal person. She showed Alex to a room upstairs and asked if she could get him anything else.
“Thanks, I’m good.”
“Heading out for coffee?” she smiled.
“Yeah, coffee sounds really good about now.”
“Say ‘hi’ to Grace for me.”
“Will do.”
“And Alex, tell her ...”
“Yes?”
“Well, just tell her I’m really a nice person, no matter what her brother says.”
He grinned. “There’s a story there.”
“There is, but I won’t bore you with it.”
“I’ll deliver the message.”
***
After Alex left, Becky trudged up the stairs again to clean Tank’s room. At least he wasn’t a pig. The only real evidence of his having stayed there was the bedding and towels, and they were already in the laundry. She glanced at a hat stand in the corner, and noticed Tank’s sweatshirt draped over the top. He would use a hat stand for his dirty clothes. She pulled the sweatshirt down and held it up. It was enormous. She could fit into it several times and probably invite a friend. It smelled like Tank; not necessarily sweaty, but definitely lived in by him. Enough of this. Tossing it in the hall, she went back to work.
She wiped down the untouched dresser, smiling a little at Tank’s having been trapped in this room with its delicate antique furniture. Had he attempted to sit in the chair by the desk? Judging by its ornate, spindly legs, she thought not. For a guy who’d shunned any kind of company, he’d picked an odd place to be alone with his thoughts. No wonder he was always out on the beach with Burt.
She ran the vacuum and gave the windows a once-over. No one else was currently scheduled to visit the inn until Thanksgiving. Of course, Alex might become a regular customer. She smiled at the thought. As much as she hoped for a kindred spirit in Grace, she couldn’t deny the transformation that a good man had helped to bring about. Grace’s new smile was nothing short of miraculous.
Becky sighed. Grace deserved to be happy. Maddy deserved to be happy. She’d be happy for them, and leave it at that.
***
Burt went wild with delight when Maddy, John and the boys stormed the inn just in time for dinner on Saturday.
Maddy absolutely radiated happiness; so did John. The group settled in the sunroom with Burt, who was content to rest at Maddy’s feet once his energy was spent.
Becky smiled at the scene. For all that Maddy and John were clearly happy reuniting with the rest of their family, they were also very content just to be close to each other. They sat on the couch, John’s arm draped around Maddy’s shoulders, listening as the boys recounted their adventures with their aunt and cousin. John’s hand gently stroked Maddy’s arm.
For some reason, that one little gesture put a lump in Becky’s throat, and she got up to get drinks for everyone. As happy as she was for them, she felt peripheral to their gathering. She got out lemonade for the boys and decided to brew some coffee for the adults.
Maddy joined her as she ground the beans. “Can I help?”
Becky directed her to the lemonade. “I’ll be out in a minute with the coffee.”
“Sounds good.” Maddy slipped an arm around Becky’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Thanks so much for taking care of everything around here. The place looks great.”
Becky smiled at her. “No problem. I enjoyed it, really.”
She felt Maddy study her face for a moment. “But?”
“Well, it was fine, but we do have some debriefing to do.” She blew her hair out of her eyes. “We had a few unexpected guests.”
“Oh no! The mice?”
Becky laughed. “No, I mean real guests. We had a two-week single that ended today, and another single that just came today and will stay ’til tomorrow or Monday. The Reynolds are here, of course. They’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Right. Well, it’s good to have some extra business this time of year. Everything go alright?”
“It was fine. Interesting. It’s all okay now. I’ll fill you in later.”
Maddy eyed her with concern. “There’s nothing I need to know?”
Becky thought for a brief moment. “No. Just watch yourself around Mr. Reynolds.”
“Ew. Really? I’m so sorry. Do you want us to stay tonight?”
“No. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. You need to go start your new life at John’s house. You’ll all be back here soon enough when the ‘penthouse’ is finished.”
Maddy giggled. “I love it when you call it that.”
Becky marveled at her sister’s utter lack of anxiety about all of her recent life changes. So not Maddy. “You’re lucky I’m here to run the show for a while. What would you do without me?”
Maddy hugged her again. “I don’t ever want to find out.”
***
Maddy, John and the boys left for the night, taking Burt with them. Soon afterward, Alex returned, planning to shower and head back out with Grace. The Reynolds had gone out for the evening. Becky was more than relieved.
Alex was getting ready to leave when a vehicle pulled into the drive. They’d been standing on the porch talking, when the headlights blinded them momentarily and then swung toward the shed on the side of the property.
At first Becky thought the couple had returned, but then recognized the narrow set of the headlights. Only a Jeep had eyes like that.
Alex observed the size of the man getting out of the vehicle. “Is this Grace’s brother?” he asked in a low voice.
Becky looked up in surprise. Apparently, they hadn’t met yet. “Yes, indeed,” she replied.
Tank approached the porch with his usual swagger-stomp. Becky couldn’t help but grin a little, despite the fact that she dreaded dealing with their unfinished business.
“You left in a rush this morning,” she said as he walked up the steps. “I found your sweatshirt.” She’d planned to make eye contact, but got as far as his traps and froze. Color washed over her as a memory of exploring them with her hands, rather thoroughly, surfaced. She stepped back, mortified, and finally forced herself to loo
k up into his eyes.
Tank simply stood regarding them both.
Alex stepped forward to shake his hand. “I’m Alex.”
Tank nodded, took his hand. Becky, reeling from the memory of the night before, was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that particular handshake.
“Where is it?”
She snapped to attention. He was right back to being awful, which made it easier for her to focus and answer his question. “Inside on the washing machine.”
He moved to pass her. She almost grabbed his arm, but thought better of it. “Hang on, I’ll get it.”
“Don’t bother.”
He pushed past, and Becky shook her head at Alex’s raised brows.
“So, that’s Tank,” she said quietly, watching him stride down the hall. She took a deep breath. “Charming, huh? I thought you might have met him, already.”
“I can see the family resemblance, though I don’t think you should tell Grace I said that.”
Becky laughed. “I can see it in the coloring, that’s about it. And the green eyes.”
“You saw his eyes? His brows were so drawn it was hard to tell.”
“I did see them once. He’s been here two weeks, remember. It was one morning; I think it was too early for his scowl to be fully engaged.”
Alex grinned but held his tongue. They could hear Tank returning.
Becky decided to thank him and get it over with. Maybe with Alex around, it wouldn’t be as awkward. She wasn’t sure she could handle another interaction with Tank, especially with that trap memory haunting her.
Taking another deep breath, she stepped into his path. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to stop.
She might just be Maddy’s new welcome mat.
He paused inches away, clearly not worried about her personal space. He didn’t say a word, just stared.
Becky reminded herself that no man made her nervous. First of all, she needed to see more than his Adam’s apple, and she sure didn’t need to be that close to any of his muscles. She took a step back and sought out his eyes; they were hooded, as always.
Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 4