There's Always a Catch: Christmas Key Book One

by Stephanie Taylor

  It only takes about thirty seconds for someone to guess that Jake only speaks three languages, which leaves his veiled declaration of love sitting there like an undetonated bomb. The awkward moment passes, and the game continues, but Holly doesn’t feel like playing anymore.

  After a few rounds of truths and lies and a lot of laughter, the crowd disperses. Several of the fishermen head to their rooms to sleep, calling out their thanks to the locals for the food and games as they exit the dining room. River catches Holly’s elbow as she’s straightening tables and chairs.

  “I know you can’t go home until the storm is over, so why don’t you take my bed and catch a few winks? Here,” he says, handing her his room key. “I’ll stay down here, promise.” River holds up a hand like he’s taking an oath.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” she says, setting down the chair she’s just picked up. “Really—I can’t. You go ahead and sleep a bit. I need to do a couple of things in my office anyway.”

  “You’re sure?” He looks at her quizzically.

  “Positive. But seriously, thank you.” It takes everything in her not to snatch the room key from his hand and take him up on the offer. “And thanks for getting a game going. I’m going to have to hire you on full-time as our island event organizer if you keep entertaining us.”

  “I prefer ‘Games Manager’ or ‘Steward of Fun’—something catchy like that.” He’s joking with her, his eyes twinkling, but Holly is too tired to pick up his easy banter and run with it.

  Bonnie materializes at her side. “You turnin’ in for the evening, slugger?”

  “I couldn’t convince the mayor to borrow my bed for a few hours and get some sleep herself, so I guess I’ll call it a night.” He looks at Holly one last time.

  “Goodnight,” she says, busying herself with the chairs again.

  “Night, ladies.”

  “Sleep tight, Tarzan,” Bonnie whispers to him as he brushes past her.

  Holly gives her a light shove.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The tail end of the storm whips across Christmas Key around seven the next morning. The lights flicker repeatedly in the kitchen, and everyone stops what they’re doing and stands perfectly still (as if this will somehow keep the electricity from going out completely). It blinks and buzzes a few times, then comes back strong. The small group of kitchen workers cheers.

  Their hoots and hollers wake Holly up in her office. She rolls over, stretching out the kinks in her neck and shoulders as she tries to remember where she is. She managed to catch about four solid hours of sleep by curling up on Pucci’s dog bed (he kindly took the spot under her desk, watching with interest as his mistress curled up into the fetal position on his bed like a lean, furless canine). Pucci is up immediately and sniffing Holly the second her eyes open.

  “Thanks for letting me hog your bed, buddy,” she says, accepting a wet nose to the cheek.

  She puts the maritime news report on in her office while she checks her email, and the sounds of a subdued breakfast filter through the B&B.

  From the news reports, it seems like everything is finally about to wind down enough for the islanders to disperse, and there’s a distinct possibility that the fishermen could get out on the boat again as soon as the storm passes. Holly emerges from the office bleary-eyed and with messy hair. She left her flip-flops in another room at some point, so she pads through the hallway barefoot now, peeking into the laundry room and behind the front desk, wondering where her shoes could be.

  In the dining room, everyone is up and piecing together their hodgepodge breakfasts from the random assortment of leftovers and baked goods that the kitchen staff has pulled out of the fridge. Two giant tureens of hot coffee and a stack of white china coffee cups make it all look more presentable, but there’s no hiding the fact that they’re dining on cold pasta and deviled eggs from the kitchens of the locals. Holly twists her hair up into a loose bun and wraps an elastic around it.

  “You look like you need coffee!” Coco says brightly, swooping in on her without warning. She’s already showered and dressed in white shorts and a bright tank top. Her hair and make up have been freshly applied, and she smells like gardenias. Holly looks down at her own bare feet, wondering how someone who loses her shoes and sleeps on a dog bed is even related to a woman who probably irons her silk pajamas and sleeps in coordinating lipstick and nail polish.

  “I do need coffee,” Holly says, stepping around Coco so that she can fix herself a hot cup of java with cream and two sugars.

  “Did you sleep at all last night, honey?” Coco coos, trailing after her. “I would offer to let you shower in my room, but Alan is still up there sleeping…and I’m sure you’ll be able to head back to your place soon and freshen up, right?”

  Holly doesn’t respond as she pours her coffee. It’s only after she’s gotten it just the way she likes it, stirred it with a silver spoon, and taken her first sip that she turns around. “I slept in my office—a little. And it’s fine. I’ll go home as soon as I get things settled around here this morning.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Coco follows her to a table, perching on the edge of the chair next to Holly’s as she sips her coffee and takes in the breakfast scene. Most of the fishermen are there, as are the islanders who stayed in the B&B’s dining room all night. Holly holds the rim of her coffee cup to her dry lips; she can’t even imagine what she must look like.

  “So, do you think we can get back to business here after you go home and shower?” Coco sweeps a hand through her shiny hair, eyes cutting around the room. “There’s still a lot of ground for us to cover while I’m here.”

  Holly is about to give a withering, sleep-deprived answer when Bonnie and Bill walk into the room at the same time.

  “Whoa,” Holly says from behind her coffee cup. “This just got interesting.”

  “Sugar, hi,” Bonnie says, blinking several times as she pulls out a chair at the round table.

  “Hi yourself, you little minx,” Coco says, nudging Bonnie with an elbow. “How was last night?”

  “Pardon me?” Bonnie gives a sniff of disapproval as she sits down.

  “Come on, you’re not fooling me for a second with that innocent act. Everyone in the room can tell that you just spent the night with that man, and we all know that you’ve been lusting after him for days,” Coco says, nodding in Bill’s direction.

  “Honey, if you’re calling me a harlot, then may I remind you,” Bonnie shoots Coco a look, “that it takes one to know one?”

  “Huh,” Coco huffs. She stands up, smoothing her shorts against her thighs. “Excuse me.”

  “That woman,” Bonnie says, shaking her head as Coco walks away. “I try, Holly, I really do.”

  “I know you do, Bon.” Holly picks up her coffee cup. “She isn’t easy to deal with after four hours of sleep on a dog bed, so she can’t be much fun after a sleepless night filled with steamy, unbridled passion.”

  “Oh, don’t I wish my night had been filled with unbridled passion, sugar,” Bonnie says, shaking her head. “But unfortunately Mr. Bill Hammond and I are not coming from the same place; we just happened to walk in at the same time.”

  “Then where were you last night?” Holly frowns and takes another sip of her coffee, holding the cup with both hands.

  “Prepare yourself.” Bonnie makes a grim face.

  “I’m prepared.”

  “I couldn’t find anywhere to rest my head, so Cap took me across the street to his place.”

  “No!” Holly shouts, scandalized. She sets her coffee cup down so hard that hot liquid sloshes over the side and immediately stains the tablecloth.

  “Oh, lordy—it’s not what you think! He made up his pull-out couch for me, and the whole thing was as boring as all hell.” Bonnie brushes it off with the flick of a wrist. “Really, I promise.”

  “So you’re not going to take up with Cap the way that Fiona’s taken up with Buckhunter?”

  “Honey, no.” Bonnie reache
s over and takes Holly’s hand in hers. “I solemnly swear that I will never spend another night with Cap Duncan…and not just because that man saws more wood than Paul Bunyon!”

  They snort like schoolgirls, collapsing onto each other’s shoulders in conspiratorial laughter.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The storm leaves the island wrapped in a cocoon of clean, cool air. After making sure that the islanders and the fishermen are situated for the day and that everyone who crashed at the B&B has a ride home, Holly climbs behind the wheel of her wet, muddy, formerly pink golf cart, and heads for home.

  Everything outside is heavy with moisture. The eaves of the buildings are dripping, and the sound of raindrops falling from palm fronds makes a series of loud splats on the ground. The road is pitted on dry days, and now it’s like driving through a maze of mud puddles, the golf cart bumping along slowly as Holly navigates her way through the sludge. She swerves to avoid fallen branches and leaves, and pauses as a turtle lazily crosses the road. The sky is clear blue; everything feels green and washed, like a new start.

  At home, Holly draws the curtains, cranks up the air conditioning, and turns off her phone. The hours of sleep she got in the office were fitful and uncomfortable, and she needs about three or four more—and a long, hot shower—before she can even think about what comes next. Sleep comes in like the tide, pulling her under instantly.

  Seven hours later, she claws at the blanket that covers her face, and blinks as the room comes into focus. Her house is dark and cool, and she feels supremely hungover, though Fiona drank the lion’s share of the champagne in the B&B’s kitchen the night before. She yawns and stretches.

  Moving the curtain aside next to her bed, Holly looks out at the dense foliage around her house. The trees are a deep emerald green in the late afternoon sunlight, and the bright colors of her tropical plants pop against the greenery like sprinkled confetti. The sky is awash in color, pinks bleeding into oranges over the ocean in the distance. Holly drops the curtain and pulls off the tank top and underwear she wore to bed, tossing them into her laundry basket.

  In the shower, she cups her hands and lets the water stream down her forearms. A smile spreads across her face as she remembers River standing in the doorway to his room, shirtless and smirking down at her. Holly turns under the water and wets her hair, thinking of River and Jake squared off at the poker table. Then the memory of Jake’s awkward profession of love during the game of ‘Two Truths and a Lie’ comes back to her and her smile fades. For as good as she feels about being honest with Jake and setting him free, there’s an equal part of her that questions the wisdom of letting go of someone who feels so comfortable—so familiar. Especially on a remote island filled with men who are old enough to be her grandfather.

  Holly turns off the water, and it trickles to a stop as she stands there thinking. She used to believe that Jake was like an oasis in the middle of a parched desert. He was a bright dandelion in a field of weeds. Even after she broke things off with him, he reminded her of a giant bacon cheeseburger with extra cheese and onions at a vegetarian buffet…until River showed up. Even with his familiar smell and easy way of making her laugh, Jake pales in comparison to River.

  River is a motorcycle ride under the stars with the hot night wind whipping through her hair. He’s a dive from a high cliff into uncharted waters. River is like putting all of her money on one number at the roulette table in a flashy casino at three in the morning on the French Riviera.

  And River will be leaving in less than a week.

  She pulls a fluffy yellow towel from the cabinet in the bathroom and wraps it around her body, clipping her wet hair off her back with a plastic barrette while she dresses.

  “Hol?” a voice calls from the living room. As usual, her front door is unlocked, though unannounced visitors are few and far between. “Holly? You back there?” It’s Fiona.

  “Just got out of the shower,” she shouts back. “Be there in a sec.”

  Holly digs through her dresser drawer for a bikini top and bottoms, settling on a mismatched set. She covers the bathing suit with a lime green wrap dress, then lets her wet hair fall on her back. After running a comb through her tangled waves, she gives up and twists the whole pile into a bun on the top of her head, securing it with a handful of bobby pins. With a swipe of pink lipgloss and a pair of hoop earrings, she feels like a new woman.

  “You look about a hundred times better,” Fiona says from her spot on the slipcovered couch when Holly comes out of the bedroom. Fiona is flipping through a copy of Oprah magazine from the coffee table, her feet tucked under her skirt on the couch cushions. “Good quizzes in this issue. Mind if I borrow it so I can take them and find out what my true calling in life is?”

  Holly smiles dazedly like someone who’s still coming out of the fog of a good nap. “Sure. Go for it.” She pulls a piece of gum from a pack on the kitchen counter and then ties a white cardigan around her waist. “But I can save you the ink and the time: just do what Joseph Campbell said and follow your bliss.”

  Fiona leans back, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table and running a hand through the air in front of her face like she’s reading a marquee sign. “Follow my bliss,” she says dreamily. “I think I already did, right? I ditched my overbearing boyfriend, and then I ditched snowy Chicago for paradise. That’s pretty blissful, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm,” Holly says, sticking the gum in her mouth and balling up the wrapper. “I thought your ‘bliss’ was a little more to the west.” She nods her head in the direction of Buckhunter’s cottage.

  Fiona throws a pillow at her friend from the couch. “Good lord!” she cackles. “I guess I need to work on my stealth moves if I’m going to be making house calls to your next door neighbor.”

  “Or maybe just park your cart in the bushes and walk over to his place when it’s totally dark,” Holly suggests. “And don’t forget to take your shoes in with you.”

  “All right, Sherlock, you got me.”

  “Damn,” Holly says, looking at her watch. “I need to get my head back in the game and start thinking about tonight. It’s getting late.”

  “Yeah, you disappeared on us and you weren’t answering your phone. That’s why I made the trip out here to the back forty. I needed to make sure you were still alive.”

  “I turned my phone off.” Holly digs it out of her purse and switches the ringer on. “Let’s head back to the B&B and see what needs to be done.”

  “Your mom helped Bonnie all afternoon,” Fiona says, a smirk spreading across her face as she tosses the magazine on the coffee table and stands up. “It was…entertaining.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Wait—you got to meet my mom? I’m sorry, in all of the chaos last night I totally forgot to introduce you.”

  “Bonnie introduced us after things calmed down at the B&B. She even suggested that your mother come back to the office with me so that I could show her what I do.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “She most definitely did. And I totally shot that down by telling your mother that I just got a new mammogram machine at the office, and that I needed a woman in her forties to test it out on since all of my patients are generally much older. Surprise, surprise: she magically found something else to do with her afternoon.”

  “Stop—I can’t even!” Holly inhales as she laughs, picturing Coco’s face when a woman she’s just met offers to squish her breasts between the metal plates of a mammogram machine. “I have so many things to say about all of this, but I just can’t,” Holly says, resting her fingertips on her forehead and rubbing her temples. “And you know what? I’m not even sure anymore that Coco being here is my biggest problem, which is really saying something.”

  “I hear you, Hol. I really do. And not that you’re asking, but I think your biggest problem is actually which gorgeous man you’re going to let clear the cobwebs out of your—”

  “Don’t say it!”

  “—bedroom. I was going to say bedroom. Jeez.
” Fiona pinches her friend on the arm. “However, as your primary care physician, I do need to point out that sex has definite health benefits that would lessen your current stress level, and you really need—”

  “AND we’re all done here,” Holly says loudly, talking over her friend. “What I really need is a freaking miracle to come my way and turn this ridiculous streak of bad luck around so that the fishermen actually have a good time while they’re here.” She picks up her bucket purse and throws a chapstick into it.

  “I can think of one way to show the fishermen a good time…”

  “Yeah, Bonnie’s got that angle covered—at least she’s working on it.”

  “Shut it!” Fiona says, following Holly out the front door. “Is it that one that she keeps winking at?”

  “Naturally.”

  “She’s a feisty old broad, that one. Wait—he is single, right?”

  Holly flips on the porch light before closing her door. “Yeah, he’s here with his son, but he’s divorced.”

  “Well, more power to her,” Fiona says with approval. “Life is short.”

  “And she spent the night at Cap’s last night,” Holly says with a hint of salaciousness.

  Fiona stops in her tracks. “I’m dying right now. Absolutely dying. Are you messing with me? Bonnie and Cap?”

  “Yeah, I’m messing with you. She slept on his pull-out couch because there was nowhere to crash at the B&B.”

  Fiona heaves a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure I have enough penicillin on hand to keep up with the romance on this island,” she jokes.

  “You know,” Holly confides as they continue walking down her sandy driveway. “I actually turned Jake down a couple of weeks ago at the Ho Ho.”