Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

  “I have to get a ride.” Nell turned, trying to peer in the back windows.

  “Anyway.” Amy waited until she had Nell’s attention again. “I heard what you said to Hannah the other day. About how I wouldn’t last here, about how I was just going to sell On the Sound and take off.”

  Nell crossed her arms, opened her mouth to reply, and Amy held out a hand to stop her.

  “I got an offer on the inn this week. For six million dollars.”

  Nell’s eyes widened.

  “I turned it down. I’m staying. For good. So, you can get off your high horse and stop making snide comments about how I’m an outsider. This is my home now, as much as it is yours.

  “For reasons that escape me, I actually kind of enjoy that bitchy side you have. I’d like us to be friends. Again, for reasons that escape me. But, the ball’s in your court now.”

  She turned to go back in the café and then glanced over her shoulder.

  “By the way, Paul and I have never been anything more than friends. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  For once, Nell was speechless.

  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Although, you’ve known him all your life, I don’t know what the hell you’re waiting for.” Amy flashed her most confident smile and strode off, head held high. Damn, that felt good.

  Back inside, she settled into her chair and dug happily into her tiramisu.

  “What was that about?” Ben murmured into her ear, quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear.

  “I spoke my truth,” she said and smiled when he laughed. “Girl stuff, I guess. How’d you know?”

  “First of all,” he said, pushing away his dessert plate, which was already empty. “I deserve some credit, because I figured it was girl stuff but if I called it girl stuff, I would be deemed a sexist asshole.”

  “True.” Amy nodded. “Your restraint is duly noted.”

  “Second, it’s my job to people watch and be really nosy. Otherwise, how else do I figure out what makes people tick? I’ve gotten pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.” Ben sipped his coffee. “Take that couple over there.”

  Amy craned her neck to see who he was nodding towards and saw Kerri and Don, both from Friday Harbor. Kerri worked at the kayak shop and Don managed one of the hotels.

  “He’s going on and on about something, and he thinks he’s entertaining her and impressing her. She’s nodding and smiling, but her eyes are glazed over, and she’s wondering when she can go home.”

  Amy took a closer look and laughed. She knew Kerri well enough to see that Ben’s assessment was correct. “I like to people watch, too. It’s fun to imagine stories for the guests that stay at On the Sound—what type of life they’re going back to at home, that kind of thing.”

  “Amy, you’re up,” Paul’s voice echoed over the microphone. “Time to sing for your supper.”

  Zane and Ryan did a drum roll on the table, and a smattering of applause broke out. Amy took a quick sip of tea and made her way to the stage, taking a seat next to Paul.

  He glanced at Ben and back at Amy meaningfully. Amy sighed in exasperation and grabbed the mic.

  “Ladies and gentleman, give it up for the talented Paul Timble,” she said. Under the cover of the applause and cheers that followed, she turned slightly and said into his ear, “My guest and I have already been embarrassed by Zane and Ryan. Don’t you start!”

  He gave her a wicked smile. “Who, me?” He grabbed the mic from her and fixed it back into the stand. Before she could ask him what he wanted to play, he started strumming his guitar, the chords instantly recognizable.

  As Paul kept on going with Bonnie Raitt’s “Something to Talk About,” Amy saw Zane and Ryan doubled over with laughter. Yep, there was Nell, smirking, Hannah chuckling and Ben grinning. Oh, God. She let out a deep sigh, and joined Paul in the chorus. If you can’t beat them, join ‘em, she figured, sending Ben a wink.

  By the last chorus, her whole table was singing along, and Ben jumped out of his chair to make his way over to her. Grabbing the guitar out of her hand, he set it aside and pulled her into a dance. Drawing her close, he twirled her around, dipped her low enough that her hair brushed the ground. Amy was breathless by the time the song ended, and the café erupted in cheers. Ben dipped her again with a dramatic flourish, his body bent close over hers, his blue eyes filling her field of vision. She could feel his warm breath on her lips. Time seemed to stop for a moment as he held her, suspended low over the floor, staring into her eyes.

  “Give them another hand, folks,” Paul’s voice boomed out over the microphone, breaking the spell. Ben carefully raised her upright and held her hand. Together they bowed for the crowd, who cheered and laughed. “Thanks for being good sports!”

  Paul handed the mic to a band made up of four high school students and followed Amy and Ben back to their table.

  “I’m Paul,” he said, sticking out his hand for Ben to shake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I was just messing with Amy.”

  “Notice there’s no apology to me.” Amy sank in her chair, and punched Paul in the shoulder—hard—when he sat on the other side of her. Paul ruffled her hair, and Amy flicked his hand away. She glanced over at Nell. Amy raised her eyebrow as if to say, “See?” and a tiny smiled crossed Nell’s lips.

  “No worries,” Ben sat back in his chair. “I don’t embarrass easily, luckily for me.”

  Zane leaned close to Ben. “I see Hannah breaking out the wine. Let’s have some, and you can tell us what it’s like working with Brad Pitt. I mean…mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

  “Don’t give him any wine,” Amy warned Ben. “He’ll just get worse.”

  “It’s okay. The man is mmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ben said. “Not my type though.”

  Amy rolled her eyes as Zane and Ryan giggled—really, there was no other word for it. “I warned you,” she said, and dove for the glass of wine that Hannah was setting down for her, taking a drink before it even hit the table. “Trade me places, Nell. I’m tired of men. I need my baby fix.”

  She cuddled the baby and chatted with Carrie for a while before the new mother began yawning. It was barely 9:00 when Carrie called it a night, and Amy helped carry the diaper bag and other baby paraphernalia out to the car. Back in the café, she got pulled to other tables to talk with people she knew. Periodically she checked on Ben, but the man seemed perfectly at home—signing autographs for a pair of giggling high school girls, laughing as Hannah flirted shamelessly with him while her husband looked on indulgently, deep in discussion with Nell, probably about his Porsche.

  Towards 10:30, the crowd began to thin down. Hannah had dimmed the lights and lit candles earlier in the evening, and the shadows flickered long on the walls and over people’s faces. Amy and Paul took to the mic one last time, and they sang one of Paul’s songs, a soft romantic ballad that quieted the room down. Ben watched her intently as she sang. The butterflies in her stomach had nothing to do with performance anxiety and every bit to do with the massive tide of lust swamping her every time she gave in and met his gaze, her eyes invariably dropping down to his slightly fuller lower lip that she wanted to bite, his hands that she imagined roaming over her body.

  When the song ended, the people that remained began putting on their coats and heading out. Amy packed up her guitar and hugged her friends goodbye.

  “Thanks for a lovely evening,” she told Hannah as she hugged her.

  “Thanks for being our entertainment,” Hannah laughed. “You too, Ben.”

  “Any time.” He gave her a warm smile. “I had a wonderful night. Best open mic I’ve ever been to.”

  Hannah flushed with pleasure. “Oh, you charmer.”

  “Cross my heart.” Ben held up his hands.

  They crossed paths with Nell near the door, and she stopped momentarily. “So, I’ll see you around, Amy,” she said, meeting her eyes.

  That was as close to an apology as she was going to get, Amy figured. She nodded. “You
will.”

  “Good.” Nell gave one of her rare smiles, and Amy smiled back.

  Ben put his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to the car and opened the door for her. Amy shivered, but not from the cold. The car seemed even smaller, Ben very close, as they drove down the quiet, dark street. Did he feel it too? Amy thought about all the women who must throw themselves at him with some regularity and let out an audible sigh before she could help herself.

  “What was that about?” She heard the smile in Ben’s voice.

  “Oh…” Amy trailed off, lost her nerve. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess. Um. Did you have a good time?”

  “I really, really did.” Amy could see his face in the glow of the dashboard, and he seemed relaxed. “Your friends are fun. It was…easy. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an evening where I didn’t have to be ‘on’, so to speak. And, I enjoyed your music.”

  “Oh, it’s Paul’s music, really.” Amy settled back in her seat and tried to relax. “It wasn’t too tame for you, then? The small town night out?”

  “I loved it. Really.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly riveting—I mean, no one would set any action movies in a town like this one. But, I love it, too. It’s home.”

  Ben didn’t respond and was silent for several minutes. Amy made a comment about his friends arriving tomorrow but even that didn’t get a response until he pulled into the driveway to On the Sound and parked his car. He stared through the windshield for a moment and then seemed to snap out of it.

  “Sorry, did you say something?”

  Amy raised her eyebrow. “I said it looks like it will be nice weather tomorrow when your friends arrive.”

  “Yeah.” He said it absentmindedly and got out of the car. Amy thanked the stars that she hadn’t thrown herself at him like she’d been tempted to. Clearly, she’d imagined whatever spark there was between them.

  Outside, Ben handed her the guitar and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drift off there. It’s just…you said no one would set an action movie here.”

  “Right,” Amy said, totally lost.

  “But, what if they did?” Ben started walking to the inn, his strides quick enough Amy had to hurry to keep up with him. “What if I set an action thriller in a sleepy little town like this one, full of regular people? What if the hero is just an average guy…not a James Bond type? And, he gets pulled into it? I could do it, make it the thinking man’s thriller.” He held the door open for her but seemed to be mainly talking to himself. “I don’t know what the conflict would be. Mistaken identity is too cliché. But, how would it work, all this action and drama going on in this small town where everyone knows everyone and everything.”

  Amy couldn’t help but smile at the excitement now pulsing off him in waves. “Sounds like you have a script brewing.”

  “I know!” Ben grinned at her. “And, it’s all thanks to you taking me to that open mic night. Sitting there, watching how you all are interconnected…I’m going to go write it down.” He grabbed her in a quick hug and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re my muse. Thank you, thank you!” He rushed up the stairs, leaving Amy standing alone in the darkened hallway, a hand on her cheek.

  She stood there for a moment, laughed at herself. Ben wasn’t the only one letting his imagination run wild. Sure, her guest was hot. Super hot. But, he was, in fact, a guest. And, maybe there’d been some flirting—she hadn’t imagined that, had she? Flirting didn’t mean anything. It’s not like he was going to knock on her door later, Amy told herself as she locked up and headed upstairs to her apartment. He wasn’t going to shove his way inside and push her up against the wall and kiss her breathless. They weren’t going to leave a trail of their clothes on the way to the bedroom where he’d slide those hands over her breasts….Stop, Amy told herself as she closed her door with a weighty sigh. Enough. Clearly, she needed to get laid. But, that problem wasn’t going to be solved by a Hollywood movie star.

  All in all, though, Amy thought as she drifted off to sleep a short while later, it had been a pretty great day.

  Chapter 12

  Ben checked his cell phone for the hundredth time that morning. Still no calls. He resumed pacing back and forth in front of the bay window in On the Sound’s living room, then stopped, flopping down in the chair that faced out to the front garden. He glanced down at his cell again to check the time, and he realized that besides Lucas and Steve, he hadn’t gotten a single call in the past two weeks. It used to be that hardly an hour went by without multiple calls from Kendra, Mike or a wide array of friends. Or, people he thought had been his friends.

  “Stop scowling. The ferry landed all of five minutes ago.” Amy paused in the doorway, duster in hand, furniture polish in the other.

  “You caught me.” Ben pushed his thoughts aside and smiled at her. She looked so cute with her hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail and her freckles standing out against the slight flush in her cheeks. Last night, though…damn. Those snug, dark jeans, that low cut shirt…she’d played up her make up and seemed to just sparkle as she laughed with her friends, strummed her guitar. He’d been unable to keep his eyes off her and decided he damn well wasn’t going to keep his hands off her at the end of the night. She was into him, he could tell, and he was pretty sure it would have been amazing.

  But, his imagination had sparked, and the idea of the screenplay had grabbed him by the head, throat and, evidently, balls. He’d been unable to think of anything else, and it’d been years since he’d felt so consumed by something creative, so he hadn’t resisted. Now, as he sipped his coffee, he was thankful—although, he sighed, when she bent over to pick up a magazine off the floor—regretful. Still, the woman had “happy ever after” written all over her, and she deserved more than a quick bounce on the sheets. Or, so he kept telling himself.

  Amy brushed a rogue strand of hair off of her face. “First time I’ve had a full house since you’ve been here.” She hesitated, then added, “If you want to have breakfast in the privacy of your room in the future, you just need to let me know.”

  “No, that’s not why I skipped this morning,” Ben reassured her, anxious to dispel the remaining movie star myths she still held about him. “I was up for quite a while working on that screenplay idea. Plus, I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  She drew her brows together and seemed about to say something. Ben could almost see her shrug it off as none of her business.

  “I haven’t seen them in a long time,” he elaborated, looking down at his jeans and fiddling with a frayed spot on his knee. He looked up and gave her a wry smile. “I’ve kind of been an asshole lately.”

  “Oh.” Amy considered this. “If it would help, I could tell them you haven’t once asked me to cut up your Twix bars since you’ve been here.”

  Ben groaned. “No, we don’t need to share that story. Really.”

  “Aha, blackmail.” She shot him a smug look. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, you worked on the script? You’re really going to set a movie here?”

  “Well, the script is set here, anyway,” Ben corrected. “Who knows if it will ever get to an actual movie. But, yeah, I fiddled with an outline, wrote ideas for key characters. That type of thing.” He grinned. “It was pretty damn fun. I’d forgotten how much fun.”

  Her smile just lit her up from the inside out. “I’m so glad, Ben.”

  Ben watched her walk away—she was wearing jeans that were faded in some very appealing places—then hastily looked back out the window when she reappeared almost immediately and started working on the computer behind the reception desk.

  Ben leaned back in the chair as best he could—it was a small, Victorian style armchair that fit with the more formal décor at the front of the room. He usually sat towards the back of the long room overlooking the ocean, where the style was more comfortable, with cushy chairs facing out to sea, a small bar and a round table piled with board games. The whole room was painted a warm pumpkin color, and a huge painting of t
he Orcas Island Vineyards graced the wall opposite the stone fireplace in the center of the room.

  “I’m making dessert for everyone tonight,” Amy announced from the reception area. She slid out from behind the computer to the end of the desk so she could see him.

  “I thought you didn’t cook after breakfast, except for the sack lunches.”

  “I’m slowly branching out. It’s hard to compete with Hannah. But, I’ve done it every once in a while, especially if the weather is cold, and people don’t want to go out. Gives the guests a chance to socialize.”

  “Is the weather supposed to be bad today?” Ben looked up at the blue sky, alarmed. He’d already asked her to make three sack lunches so he could take Steve and Lucas out on the boat.

  “If you’re going for a sail, you should be fine—the weather’s not supposed to turn till tonight.”

  Amy straightened the brochures detailing the various island attractions, then replaced the holder and slid back behind the computer again. Ben knew her routine well enough to know there was no reason for her to hover here at the front desk—normally, she’d be in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast or down in the basement, running laundry. Guests who were arriving could ring the doorbell. From the not so subtle questions she’d been dropping all week—did his friends have any special dietary needs, would they require a town car service from the ferry (he didn’t even know the tiny island had a town car service)—he gathered that she thought his friends were along the lines of Matt Damon or Daniel Craig.

  What if she was hoping for Matt Damon? Ben frowned. He didn’t really put much stock into the hype that had been built around his looks, but he had been compared to Brad Pitt, for Christ’s sake. Maybe she went for the dark, brooding type, like Clive Owen. And, what the hell did it matter, anyway? Irritated with himself, he turned his attention back to the front walkway in time to see Lucas and Steve crossing the porch.

  Lucas opened the door, one tote draped over his shoulder, pulling a wheeled suitcase behind him. Steve had just one duffel bag and was rolling his eyes as he gave Lucas’ suitcase a kick to nudge it through the door.