“Clearly we don’t have the same definition of ‘easy,’” Patricia panted.
Jane laughed charmingly. “You’re my hero, Mrs. Mac. In more ways than one.”
The physical therapist had grown up in Chances Inlet under the watchful eye of her grandmother, Connie, while Jane’s parents traveled the world as missionary doctors. She’d been friends with Kate when the two were in high school, but Patricia couldn’t remember whether Jane had graduated with Miles or Gavin. With five kids, the high school years had all seemed to run together. Jane had gone to N.C. State—Patricia did remember that—because she’d been working as one of the sports trainers when Gavin blew out his knee playing football for the Wolf Pack.
After graduate school, Jane married a Navy pilot. He was killed five years later in a training accident. Three years ago, she’d returned to the only home she knew, Chances Inlet, to work at one of the premiere sports rehab facilities in the country. The two women had bonded quickly at a support group meeting for recent widows.
“I meant, what’s the verdict on me going to Julianne’s Fourth of July party the day after tomorrow?” Patricia asked when she’d finished her final set of leg lifts.
Jane handed her a towel. “Not on your own two feet. But I think you’ll be able to manage it on crutches. Especially with that big strapping sheriff by your side. No one will dare bump into you.”
“Not if they don’t want to find themselves locked up for the weekend.” Lamar arrived at Patricia’s side, a bottle of water in his hand. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to her.
“Strapping” was too tame a word to describe Lamar, especially looking like he did after his workout. Dressed in an Army T-shirt that strained against his muscular chest and shorts that showed off his well-toned thighs, he looked like he was ready to be cast in one of those live-action hero movies. It hadn’t escaped Patricia’s notice that the eyes of every other female in the large room tracked his movements as he made his way toward her. An obscene burst of pride exploded in her chest; he was all hers. It was followed by a constricting of her heart. What if he’s changed his mind?
She gulped the water, trying to look anywhere but at his handsome, rugged face.
“How was your session?” His question was as gentle as the hand stroking her shoulder.
Jane answered for her. “Mrs. Mac is tough as nails, Sheriff. She’ll be giving you a run for your money soon enough.” Jane bundled a large ice pack over her hip area. “Fifteen minutes chillin’ and then you’re free to go. Keep up those home exercises and I’ll see you next week.”
The gray-eyed brunette handed Patricia an egg timer and headed across the room toward another patient.
Lamar eyed the ice pack Patricia held to her hip. “Do you want me to hold that for you?” Patricia hated what he must be thinking.
“You heard Jane. I’m perfectly capable. I’m healing just fine.” She didn’t mean to sound so snappish, but she was getting sick of being treated like a fragile flower.
Lamar patted her hand. “I’m glad.”
“Are you?” This wasn’t the time or place for this conversation, but the words had already slipped past Patricia’s lips. Lamar had helped her discover so much about herself after Donald’s death. She wasn’t ready to give up on who she’d become. Or on him. But she needed to know if he still felt the same way.
“Of course I am, Tricia.” He leaned down and took her mouth in a reassuring kiss that likely had the women who’d been ogling him earlier fanning themselves with jealousy.
“I miss you,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Your hip will be better soon.”
“I’m not talking about in the physical sense.”
He pulled back slowly and she met his unwavering gaze.
“You can count on me, Tricia,” he said with quiet determination. “You know that.”
She knew without a doubt that she and everyone else in town could count on this man to do what was fair and what was just. That wasn’t the issue. Patricia just worried that she might not be enough to keep him happy.
* * *
“The natives are getting restless for more cinnamon French toast, Lori.” Cassidy came into the kitchen carrying two empty juice carafes. The second hour of breakfast had just gotten under way and the inn was at capacity for the long Fourth of July weekend. “Everybody decided to eat at once today.” She grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and began refilling the carafes.
Lori pulled a tray of bacon out of the warmer. “It’s a perfect day out there. I can’t blame them for wanting to get an early start.” The weather forecasters promised a weekend of sunny, warm weather, perfect for a holiday at the beach.
“I know. I need to get the Patty Wagon stocked up for the day. I should make some good money over the next three days if I park down by the pier.” Cassidy put the refilled carafes on a tray. “Will you be able to handle the rest of breakfast on your own? Or should I ask Miles to come in and help?”
The last thing Lori needed was Miles in the kitchen. Or anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of her, for that matter. Yesterday’s kiss in the Aberdeen Suite had been reckless and wild. Not to mention, enthralling. Miles McAlister definitely did not kiss like his Dudley Do-Right personality. Instead he’d kissed her like a man who knew how to give a woman what she wanted. And now Lori definitely wanted. She wanted badly.
“No, I’ve got it covered.”
It would mean a few extra trips into the dining room, but Lori hoped the guests would be more focused on their food than on her. She stacked the pan of bacon on top of the pan of French toast and waded out before the prying eyes of the diners. The room was filled with a jovial crowd of retirees who had come to Chances Inlet for the Independence Day boat flotilla, a golf tournament, and some antiquing, based upon what Lori had overheard.
“Oh, bacon!” One of the ladies was helping herself before Lori even had the tray in the chafing dish. “I never cook the stuff because it’s so messy. Breakfast is my favorite meal to eat out.” Based on her accent, the woman was from the New Jersey, New York area. Lori’s pulse began to race. The media in the tri-state area had been relentless with their feeding frenzy about the scandal surrounding her father. And by extension, Lori. Her picture had appeared in every newspaper, blog, and television news show in the area for months. She did her best not to appear rude as she kept her back to the woman.
“You have gorgeous hair.” The woman gestured to the long braid that hung down Lori’s back. “I own a hair salon in Port Washington, New York. I always do a little ambush makeover when I’m traveling and blog about it on my website. You’d be perfect.”
Lori bit down on the panic that was bubbling up inside her. She needed to stay calm and think fast. If she refused, the woman would want to know why, and Lori would be faced with more unwanted attention.
“That’s very generous of you.” An idea popped into her head and Lori gave the woman a look that she hoped would be conveyed as shy and not anxious. “But there’s someone else here at the B and B who deserves it more, a teenager that the innkeeper has taken under her wing. She’s struggling with trying to find the right look. Her mom is going through some tough times right now.” Lori discreetly left out the fact that Mona Burroughs was in a halfway house at the moment. “I know Cassidy would be thrilled at the opportunity. The whole town would be, as a matter of fact.”
The hairdresser bought it hook, line, and sinker. “Oh my gosh, wouldn’t that make a wonderful blog post! Her name is Cassidy, you said?” She glanced around the room as if she expected the teen to appear.
Lori let out a relieved breath. “Yes. She operates the Patty Wagon. It’s a mobile ice cream stand. Look for her down by the pier today.” She’d spoken the truth; Cassidy would be thrilled by the attention. If anything, Lori could take some delight in her subterfuge.
After scooping up several more piec
es of bacon, the woman practically skipped back to her table, calling out her thanks over her shoulder. Lori finished refilling the chafing dishes and made for the refuge of the kitchen. Unfortunately, her sanctuary had been invaded by Miles. And his so-called friend without benefits, Greer.
“My mind was a little preoccupied last night and I don’t remember taking it off. I might not have even had it with me,” Greer was saying as Lori slipped into the kitchen trying not to think about why the woman had been preoccupied while undressing the night before.
“You had it on. I noticed it when we were at campaign headquarters.” Miles’ tone was agitated.
“I’ll make sure I look more thoroughly between the bed and the nightstand before I check out, then.” She gave Miles’ biceps a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll turn up either here or at home. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee to go. We need to head out to get some footage of you with the Boy Scouts placing flags at the veterans’ cemetery.” Greer stopped as she passed by Lori. “I seem to have misplaced my Michael Kors watch,” she explained. “It’s silver with a pink face. If you see it, will you put it aside for me?”
“Of course.” Lori nodded. That queasy feeling was back in her stomach. Another piece of jewelry was missing. She exchanged a quick look with Miles. His expression was hard.
“There’s a distinct possibility it’s sitting on my nightstand at home,” Greer said, her tone self-deprecating. “I’m multitasking so much lately, I think I’ve overloaded my brain.”
Lori could relate. Greer ran a business where she had to keep multiple clients happy. Her workload sounded a lot like the one Lori had managed for her father while running the restaurant. She gave Lori a sheepish smile before heading out to the breakfast room.
“What are the chances it will show up with Mrs. Swanston’s bracelet?” Miles’ question caught Lori off guard. Dudley Do-Right was back and it sounded as though he suspected her of stealing them.
“You heard Greer; she said she might have left it in Raleigh.”
“She didn’t.” Miles’ tone was clipped. “I saw it on her wrist yesterday.”
Lori turned to the sink, where she busied herself by adding dish soap and water to one of the dirty casserole pans. “Then I’m sure it will turn up.”
“Funny. That’s what you said about the bracelet.”
She spun around to find him standing behind her, his hands on his hips and that annoying probing look on his face. “What exactly are you implying, Miles?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he closed his eyes and tilted his head down to his chest. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence that we’ve had two people lose a piece of jewelry. I’m sure there has to be an industry matrix for this sort of thing that would tell us whether that’s a normal number based on our occupancy rate.”
Technically it was three pieces of jewelry that had gone missing—not that she was going to point that out to Miles. Lori really couldn’t fault him for letting his thoughts go in the same direction as hers had gone. But it stung that he immediately thought the worst of her. Especially after the way he’d kissed her yesterday.
“I know you’re looking for an excuse to hate me,” she whispered. “But I don’t steal.” At least not knowingly.
Miles’ eyes snapped open. Hunger and frustration were reflected in them. “Well, at least that’s one layer gone.” His hand drifted up toward her face. He jerked it back at the sound of voices behind them.
“So this is where the magic happens,” a charming male voice said. “My compliments to the chef.”
An older couple had wandered into the kitchen carrying their breakfast dishes as though they were going to load them into the dishwasher. Miles hustled over to retrieve the plates.
“We’re glad you enjoyed your meal, Mr. and Mrs. Osterhaus. But clearing the table is included in your room rate,” Miles joked.
“The wife, here, wanted to take a peek at the kitchen,” Mr. Osterhaus said. His booming voice matched his tall body. “The rest of this place is so gorgeous that she figured the kitchen had to be, too.” He glanced around the spacious room and gave a little whistle. “Don’t get any ideas, Marcy. We aren’t redoing the kitchen again.”
Marcy took a few steps into the room, her orthopedic sandals squeaking on the hardwood floor. “Oh, Harry, I love that rack.” She pointed to the handcrafted iron pot rack that hung above the end of the island closest to the stove. “I’ll bet it was custom made.”
Harry sighed like a man who couldn’t deny his wife anything. “If I promise to get the name of the guy who made it, will you promise not to buy anything else this weekend?”
His wife bristled. “That is not going to happen.”
He winked at Miles. “We won a little cash in the lottery a year or so back, and at this rate, we’ll have nothing left to travel with.”
That certainly explained the stunning jewelry Marcy Osterhaus was wearing. Lori said a silent prayer that the three missing items were just a coincidence. She ignored the fact that she was positive she hadn’t misplaced her grandmother’s ring.
“Come on, Marcy.” Harry hooked an arm over his wife’s shoulder and led her out of the kitchen. “I hear there’s some nice shopping down in town. Will Connelly’s wife and mother each have a boutique there.”
“Who’s Will Connelly?” they heard her ask.
Harry’s laugh drifted back into the kitchen. “A professional football player.”
Lori turned back to the sink. “I’ll check the Aberdeen Suite thoroughly after breakfast. The common areas, too.”
She heard Miles’ sharp intake of breath behind her. “Yeah, okay.”
The sound of Bernice and Coy’s raised voices on the veranda drifted in through the screen door.
“Young man, I’ve been managing an office since before you were born. I certainly think I can supervise a gaggle of volunteers.”
“Look, Bernice, they may be volunteers, but we need them focused on the task of getting Miles elected. I can’t have you organizing the Dating Game with them every afternoon.”
“A happy staff is a productive staff,” Bernice argued.
Lori bit back a smile at Bernice’s antics, but Miles ignored them both. She could feel the heat of his body at her back as he stepped in closer. His breath fanned her ear when he spoke.
“You’re right about staying the course. I’ve got to think about my campaign and my future. Neither one of us is in a position where we can act on whatever this is between us. I promise not to cross the line with you again.”
They stood like that, inches apart, both seemingly staring out the window, for a few long moments. Lori refused to succumb to the waves of disappointment rolling through her at the thought of his promise. It was best this way. She admired his purpose and drive. At the same time she resented that his ambition forced him to see the world in terms of black and white. There was no room in his life for muted gray Lori.
“Another place, another time,” she whispered.
“I hope we get that chance,” he replied with a heartfelt sigh. “I’d better go referee those two. Let me know if you find the watch, okay?” He brushed a kiss along the shell of her ear before pulling away and walking out the door.
Lori drew in a few deep breaths, blinking back the tears, before she submerged her hands in the soapy water and got back to work.
TEN
Dusk was closing in as the crowd spilled from the Dresden House terrace onto the grassy bluff overlooking the ocean. Many of the guests had brought lawn chairs or blankets to settle into when they watched the Fourth of July fireworks display later that evening. A trio of musicians had some of the partygoers dancing on the lawn with their cover of a Luke Bryan song.
“Julianne really outdid herself tonight.” Miles was standing with his brother Gavin and Will Connelly, their hips resting against the second-floor balustrade overlook
ing the sea of people milling around below them. The Independence Day party was a fund-raiser for the Children’s Center that Julianne had established in Will’s name the year before. Judging by the number of people in attendance, the center would be operational for at least another year.
His friend scowled as his eyes tracked his very pregnant wife weaving her way among the guests, a radiant smile on her face. “Overdoing it is more like it. I’m about ready to drag her out of here so she can go home and rest before she delivers that baby in the butler’s pantry downstairs.”
“Relax, Will. You act as if she’s never had a baby before.” The words were out before Miles realized his mistake. Gavin shot him a look that shouted, Way to go, dumbass.
Will hadn’t known about his son, Owen, until the baby was several weeks old. Julianne never intended to tell him their one-night stand had resulted in a child. But the baby had been born with a rare blood disorder requiring a transfusion from his father. He and Julianne had obviously worked things out. Not surprisingly, however, Will still carried some emotional wounds.
“Sorry.” Miles clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder. “I’ve been spouting out campaign rhetoric and platitudes all weekend. My mouth is moving on autopilot right now.”
The big man let out a low growl as he kept his gaze trained on Julianne. “All that’s important is that I’m in the delivery room this time. And both Julianne and the baby are healthy.” He pulled away from the railing. “It’s getting late. I’m going to take her home and watch the fireworks with Owen from our house. I’ll see you two on the beach tomorrow morning.”
Gavin leaned his forearms on the ornate wooden railing as Will headed for the stairs. “I hope you were more sensitive to your future constituents this weekend, Miles.”
“Honestly?” Miles swiped at the tension holding the back of his neck hostage. “I wasn’t kidding about being on autopilot. I don’t remember half the crap I said during the campaign events I’ve packed into these last three days.” Coy had booked him at thirteen different events from pancake breakfasts to a fish fry at the firehouse and a low country boil over on Bald Head Island. Indigestion churned in his stomach. “Or what I might have eaten. What I wouldn’t give for a beer right now.”
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