Red Clover Inn--A Romance Novel

by Carla Neggers

  “It’s great,” he said when they returned to the kitchen. “I’ll take it.”

  “Where are you staying now?”

  “I have a room at a house owned by a friend who just happens to have left town for a few days. Convenient, don’t you think?”

  “Greg...”

  He glanced around the kitchen. “No microwave?”

  “It broke.”

  “Easily replaced. I can handle it and you can reimburse me.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “I have to be back at work in an hour for another meeting. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “How long did it take you to find out this was my house?”

  “Less than four minutes. Don’t worry. I’m not going to rent this place if it bothers you to have me here.”

  “My head’s spinning.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Are you hoping that being here in Max’s old home will help you figure out what’s next for you?”

  “Right now I’ll settle for thinking straight.”

  “It could help to talk about your options, how you feel. Not our long suit, I know. Megan and Andrew won’t let me off the hook. They’re still insisting I talk to them about getting shot. They say they’re old enough and I’m not protecting them by not talking.”

  “Smart kids,” Charlotte said.

  He nodded. His eyes darkened slightly. “Doesn’t mean talking is easy.”

  “It’s not easy to deal with a life-changing incident.”

  “Yeah. It doesn’t matter if it’s your fault. The key is that little phrase, life changing.”

  Charlotte watched as Greg opened cupboards in the kitchen. “Were you at fault when you were shot?” she asked him.

  “Felt like it, but no. I’m a guy with a job to do. I’m trained to do it. Safety was and is a priority. Recklessness doesn’t work. The fastest way to get people hurt and yourself out of a job is to assume you survive your own stupidity. But that’s not what happened when I got shot.” He slung an arm around her. “What do you say I come by after my meeting and we have dinner and talk about the next fifty years?” He pulled her close. “Relax. I’m kidding about the fifty years. We can talk about the next five days—the next five hours—the next five minutes. Whatever you want.”

  “The next few days is a good start.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “I’m glad you found me, because I was getting a little unnerved thinking about hunting down a federal agent.”

  “You’d have come looking for me?”

  “Yes.” She noticed she hadn’t hesitated and smiled, feeling more relaxed. “I need a tenant and you need a house.”

  He laughed. “You can kick me out if I turn out to be a lousy tenant. We’ll talk about that rent price tonight. Where do you plan to stay?”

  “Here.”

  “There’s no bed.”

  “I noticed. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

  Greg winked at her. “The floor works for me, but we can do better.”

  Twenty-Three

  Knights Bridge, Massachusetts

  Justin and Samantha were the last of the Sloans to return to Knights Bridge from the wedding—except Heather and Brody, of course, who were in London. Samantha had loved every second of her wedding and honeymoon, but she was happy to be back home, sitting out on the front porch of Red Clover Inn on a warm, rainy June day. Charlotte was there overnight, a brief stop on her way back to Edinburgh. She’d insisted on making iced tea and sandwiches and serving lunch in the library. But it was just her and Samantha. Justin had gone next door to see his grandmother.

  “Wait until you try the hammock,” Charlotte told her cousin. “It’s the perfect cure for jet lag.”

  Samantha curled up on her chair. “I love hammocks. Our two nephews have already been in it. The rain didn’t faze them. They must be jet-lagged but you’d never know it.”

  Charlotte sat across from her. “I swear I can feel the difference here with all you Sloans back in town.”

  Samantha fingered her wedding ring, smiling at the many changes in her life in less than a year. “How was Washington?” she asked.

  “I rented Max’s house to Greg Rawlings.”

  “Brody’s DS agent friend? The one who stayed here? Charlotte! That Greg Rawlings?”

  “The same.”

  “You two...”

  “He helped me clean up the yard and update a few things. The house needed a new microwave. It’s convenient to the DSS Command Center where he works now.”

  Samantha studied her cousin. She was different. Not as uptight and self-conscious. “You and Greg are...what?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I leave the country for a couple of weeks and look what happens.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I meet a guy who wants to rent Max’s house.”

  “Sure. Right. That’s it. You’ll go back to Edinburgh and he’ll get sucked into his new job?”

  “Samantha...” Charlotte frowned. “Is that a painting of a salmon?”

  “A wild Atlantic salmon. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  “I love it.”

  “It doesn’t look as good in here as it did on a gray day in Scotland,” Samantha said, eyeing the painting on the mantel. She’d placed it there to see if it’d work. And it didn’t. She smiled at Charlotte. “It would be perfect for Max’s house.”

  She stood, gazing at the salmon. “Max was an avid fisherman. He didn’t take it too seriously. He had a whimsical side when it came to fishing.”

  “There you go,” Samantha said, certain she had the answer. “You have to have the painting. It was Max’s hand on my shoulder in Scotland. That’s why I bought it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They clinked their iced-tea glasses together in a toast. “To Max and Harry.”

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Charlotte arrived home on a bright, clear Scottish morning that seemed to draw everyone in Edinburgh outside by midmorning. She walked to the Royal Botanic Garden and wandered on its meandering paths and through its glasshouses. She had a late lunch at the café, out on the deck. She could have called friends to join her, but she was tired from her trip, prickly, frayed. The familiar surroundings would help her to clear her head and return to UK time.

  As her soup and bread arrived, she breathed in the cool air, enjoying the sunshine. For months, she’d been operating on the surface of her life—going through the motions—but being at Red Clover Inn, with Greg, had changed all that. She’d gone deep again with herself, her life. She wasn’t just the woman who’d discovered the man she’d been about to marry had betrayed her, and she wasn’t just the diver who couldn’t dive again.

  Had she had a fling with a sexy DS agent and now that was done? It was back to their lives?

  She’d promised herself she’d be more careful after Tommy. Falling for Greg didn’t feel “careful.” It felt impulsive, spontaneous, not well thought out, and perhaps a little crazy and unpredictable.

  But he didn’t feel wrong. That much she knew. Thousands of miles away, he still felt right to her.

  After lunch, she walked back to her apartment. She unpacked, checked her fridge, fetched her mail. She settled on her couch, debating the wisdom of a nap. Justin had teased her about her pink walls. She loved them. She loved this place. But while it had been right for her for a long time, was it right for her now?

  Her introspective mood lasted through supper alone at a pub and then through the night, back in her own bed. In the morning, she was restless, but it had nothing to do with jet lag or her long flight. It didn’t have anything to do with her apartment or her life in Edinburgh. It had to do with her.

  Rain had moved in overnight. She grabbed her
rain jacket and umbrella and went out, grabbing coffee and toast around the corner and eating them as she walked to the institute offices.

  She was on a mission.

  Alan Bosworth brought her straight into his office. He pulled stacks of folders off a chair and had her sit. He sank onto the creaky chair at his desk. They exchanged small talk about the past few weeks. He’d been busy at the office, couldn’t wait to get back in the field. She’d had a good time at her cousin’s wedding and got a lot sorted out on her visit home.

  “Dare I guess this visit means you’ve decided what you want to do?”

  “Yes.” She noted the firmness in her voice. “I want to open an office in Washington. We’ve been talking about it for years.”

  Alan looked thoughtful. “Are you giving up on diving?”

  She licked her lips. “It’s not medically safe for me to dive anymore.”

  “I wondered. I can understand you’d need time to absorb something like that. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, but I did what I had to do that day. I’d do it again.”

  “You and the diver you rescued both walked away,” Alan said. “You’re a serious marine archaeologist, Charlotte, and you’re a good manager. I can see you opening a new office, but there’s work you can do here in Edinburgh, too.”

  “Thanks. I’m excited about the possibilities in Washington.”

  “What about shallow-water exploring?”

  “That can be something I do on the side if the opportunity arises. It won’t be a job.”

  “You sound as if you’ve thought this through,” Alan said, studying her.

  She smiled, relaxing slightly. “I know what I want to do. I haven’t thought through all the details.”

  “Is this mostly a personal or a professional decision?”

  “It’s a mixture of both. My cousin is staying in New England. Another cousin is starting college there. I wouldn’t be surprised if his folks move back to the States.”

  “There are rumors Malcolm and Francesca Bennett are going back to Florida.”

  “See? My parents finish up in Australia at the end of the year. Edinburgh...” Charlotte glanced around the small office, noting the diving photographs on Alan’s wall. “I’d still be with the institute. I’d come back, but my role will have changed. It’s already changed—I just needed time to accept it. Everything I’ve done the past few years since I started here will guide and inform me with what’s next.”

  “All right,” Alan said, rising. “We’ll talk more. We’d all love to get a Washington office off the ground. Maybe this is its moment. Your moment.”

  “The best is yet ahead and all that?”

  “Yes. That’s what I believe.”

  Charlotte smiled, getting to her feet. “It’s what I believe, too. Now. I didn’t once I got the news about my chances for a worse incident if I dived again.”

  “You needed to mourn the life you thought you’d have.”

  They left it at that and he promised to get back to her later in the day with proposed times to meet to discuss a Washington office. He obviously assumed she’d move into her grandfather’s house, but, mercifully, they didn’t get into details. First things first.

  * * *

  Over the next few weeks, Charlotte huddled with Alan Bosworth and the institute board of directors to work out plans for a Washington office. It would be small to start but with a clear mission and the support of everyone in Edinburgh.

  In Washington, Greg got settled into Max’s house, paid his rent on time and started his job. She’d never been great talking on the phone, but she loved getting his calls, often, because of the time difference, when she’d settled into bed. But on a raw morning as she had tea and scones at her favorite café near her apartment, her phone vibrated, and she saw his number on the screen.

  “Thought I’d catch you early,” he said when she picked up. “Don’t tell me you’re having scones.”

  “With heaps of clotted cream and raspberry jam.”

  “Glorified biscuits,” he said, as he always did when scones came up.

  “Where are you?”

  “Work.”

  At four thirty in the morning? But she thought she’d heard something in his voice. “Work’s intense right now?”

  “You could say that. But it’s good. I get to use my experience to help agents doing the job I once did. And you, Charlotte? How are you?”

  “I’m on my way into work. We have an office in mind for me in Washington. I’ll even have a part-time assistant.”

  “You’ll need a place to live now that I’m renting your house.”

  She laughed, but he had to go back to work.

  “I’ll call you soon,” he said. “Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me.”

  After she disconnected, she stared at her phone on the table, as if he were still there. Was he going back into the field? On some secret mission he couldn’t tell her about? Was she supposed to read between the lines of his early-morning call? On previous calls, they’d talked about everything from their families to work to what color to paint Max’s kitchen, since they both agreed it did need painting.

  She finished her scones and walked to the institute.

  * * *

  For two days, she heard nothing from Greg and tried to follow his suggestion and not worry. She wasn’t the worrying type, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t intrigued about what he was up to.

  On the third day, she walked back from the institute, feeling a mix of excitement about her work and growing impatient curiosity about what Greg was up to. As she turned into her cobblestone courtyard, there he was, sitting on her stoop.

  It was just like their first morning in Knights Bridge. “Did I conjure you up? Are you a figment of my imagination?”

  “I’m too jet-lagged to be a figment of anyone’s imagination.” He leaned back, stretching out his thick legs. He looked tired, although not the bone-deep tired of the night they’d met. He squinted up at her. “This place is cute. A courtyard and everything. Almost broke my ankle on the cobblestones, though.”

  “You did not.”

  “Key word is almost.” He got to his feet. “I’ve never been to Edinburgh. Thought I’d stop on my way back to Washington. I’ve been on a work trip that I can’t talk about.”

  “Come on in. I can make you coffee.”

  “Tea. I’m in Scotland. I can do tea.”

  “I have shortbread, too,” she added with a smile, unlocking her door.

  If he had any comments about her rose-colored walls, he kept them to himself. “Nice,” he said, scanning her small living room. “Very you.”

  She filled her kettle in the adjoining kitchen and set it on to boil. “How long can you stay?”

  “A few days.”

  “Then back to Washington?”

  He nodded, sitting on the couch. “My schedule won’t be as intense as it has been.”

  “But you like your new job.”

  “I do.”

  She went into the living room. “And the house?”

  “It’s good, too. I have a sexy landlady. I’m dying to sleep with her.”

  “She happens to be in Edinburgh. Imagine.”

  Charlotte sat on his lap and draped her arms over his shoulders. The kettle dinged, but the hot water and tea would keep.

  “Did you mean what you said at Red Clover Inn?”

  “Yes.”

  “At the time or does it still hold?”

  “Still holds. Now. Tomorrow. Decades from now. Everyone warned me to take my time after the upheavals in my life, and I did—by my standards, not theirs.”

  “You’re a deep-end-of-the-pool kind of guy.”

  “Who’s the one who asked a federal agent if he was armed?”<
br />
  “Ha. Samantha and Justin have invited me to Knights Bridge for Thanksgiving. They said I can bring guests. The more, the merrier. What are your plans? Will you have Thanksgiving with Andrew and Megan?”

  “We’re doing Christmas.”

  “Max’s house is a wonderful spot for Christmas.”

  “They’ll love it. They want to go back to Knights Bridge, too.”

  “That can happen. Samantha said we can stay at our inn anytime. That’s what it will always be, you know. Our inn.” Charlotte snuggled against his warm, strong body. “I might have fallen in lust with you in the UK, but I fell in love with you in Knights Bridge.”

  “Charlotte...” He held her tight to him. “I love you, and the answer is yes.”

  “The answer to what is yes?”

  “To your proposal. I’m saying yes to your proposal to marry you.”

  “I proposed?”

  “I read between the lines.”

  She laughed, rolling on top of him. “Was that your proposal in Knights Bridge? My answer is yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Greg Rawlings.”

  “It’s not just because you want Max’s house back now that you’re moving to Washington?”

  “No. It’s because I love you with all my heart.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her down to him, kissed her softly as he smoothed his hands over her hips. “We’ll make the most of my time in Scotland.”

  Charlotte smiled, a warmth unlike anything she’d felt before enveloping her. This was what true love felt like, she realized. “I’ve no doubts.”

  “None?”

  “Well. There is the question of kilts. Samantha bought Justin a kilt for Christmas while they were here on their honeymoon.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’ll wear it.”

  “After a few days in Edinburgh, you’ll want a kilt.”

  “We’ll see about that. Come on.” He eased her from his lap. “We’ve got time. Let’s skip tea and take advantage of the sunshine and go for a walk. You can show me your town.”

  Charlotte stood, reached for her lightweight jacket. “Samantha also bought a fish painting on their honeymoon that she thought would be right for the inn, but she decided it belongs in Max’s house. It really does.”