Sweet Entanglement (Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series Book 12)

by Jean C. Gordon

  “It’s a couple blocks. Do you want to walk? I could drive,” Lauren said.

  His back itched between his shoulder blades, where he knew he couldn’t reach. “How far is the beach?”

  Lauren knitted her brows and laughed. “The beach is never far in Indigo Bay. Why?”

  “What I’d really like is to go back to the beach and grab my truck.” He patted the front pocket of his jeans, and to his relief, felt his keys. “Then go clean up.”

  She eyed him, sending the itch down his spine.

  “No coffee first? I could run in and get you a large, black, with one of Caroline’s famous cinnamon rolls.”

  “Famous, huh,” he quipped to hide the tick in his heart rate caused by her remembering how he took his coffee. But then, why wouldn’t she? They’d known each other for ten years, since they were seventeen, when he’d thought black coffee was macho. The taste for it came later.

  “Rated number one in The Observer’s food and drink reviews.”

  “I’m sold, but maybe we should walk.” He rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans, and they came off gritty. “I don’t want to get your car all dirty.”

  “Not a problem. I have a black lab/shepherd mix who likes to ride shotgun. It would be another story if you wanted to drive my car, sit in my seat.”

  His gaze dropped to the side and down to her behind at the thought of her settling in behind the wheel. Warm appreciation replaced his nanosecond of disgust. Hey. He was a guy.

  Lauren led him to a green crossover SUV in the Indigo Bay City Hall parking lot. He pulled open the passenger door and settled into the seat, while she got behind the wheel and turned the vehicle on. In a minute, they reached their destination.

  With a sudden jerk of the steering wheel, Lauren pulled into a parking space hot on the tailgate of the truck pulling out. “It doesn’t look too busy. I’ll be back in two minutes.” She was out of the car before he could pull his wallet out of his pocket. For all the good it would have done. He wasn’t sure he had enough cash on him to pay for a coffee and cinnamon roll. While he waited, Jesse checked out Seaside Boulevard, starting with the bright pink awning of Sweet Caroline’s Café. It looked like other small-town beach communities he’d been to on the racing circuit, except a little cleaner and more cheerful and prosperous than many.

  Lauren returned a few minutes later. “Here you go. My treat.”

  “Thanks.” Jesse took the food and drink, avoiding eye contact

  She pulled out onto the boulevard. A few moments of silence hung between them before she asked, “You do know where your truck is?”

  “I sure do. It has my bike trailer attached.” His one and only motorcycle, a come-down from the three he’d once owned.

  Her lips twitched, and he unconsciously turned his head and leaned toward her before he stopped himself by dusting a dog hair off the dashboard. “It’s at the old Morrison place.”

  She stared at him.

  “My truck. It’s parked there. At the end of Sandy Lane, off Beachside Boulevard.” In their correspondence, Mr. Acer had called the property the old Morrison place, as if that was how the locals knew it.

  “I know where it is. That’s private property.”

  Lauren didn’t know? She worked for the law firm that had settled his great-uncle Jim Morrison’s estate.

  “We’d better get over there before you’re cited again. This time for trespassing.”

  His stomach knotted. That’s what Lauren thought of him? A criminal nuisance? Considering her profession and their reunion, he shouldn’t be surprised. “It’s not a problem. I know the owner.”

  Lauren hit the brakes harder than necessary at one of the few traffic lights, he’d noticed in town. “You do?” Her voice pitched louder in question. “Mr. Morrison died a couple of years ago. People have been speculating about the new owner since. Some distant relative, but as far as I know, no new deed has been registered with the county.”

  “His grand-nephew,” Jesse said.

  “Someone you know from racing?”

  “You might say that.” He was enjoying keeping Lauren on tenterhooks, if only for the attractive flush it brought to her cheeks that reminded him of the girl he’d once known.

  Lauren slowed to a stop at the end of Sandy Lane next to the house and a few feet from his truck. “Come on, tell me.”

  “You’re looking at him.”

  She glanced past Jesse and out the window.

  “Me-ee.” Jesse drew the word out.

  “You? For real?” Lauren threw open the door and hopped out of the car. “I’ve been dying to see the inside of this house since I moved here. It’s the last of the original beach mansions left standing.”

  Jesse looked at the structure’s missing and drooping shutters and the decided tilt of one corner of the house. “The still-standing may only be a matter of time. The city is on the verge of condemning the property.”

  Lauren nodded. “Sad. Mom’s been here about five years, and Mr. Morrison had already been in a nursing home for a quite a while before that. Alzheimer’s. His brother didn’t want to sell the property, but he didn’t maintain it, either.” She shrugged. “And I don’t know how well Mr. Morrison was able to take care of it before he went into the home. Both brothers died within weeks of each other. No children or grandchildren.”

  “And so it came to me.” A sand crab scuttled past the toe of his boot. “Mr. Morrison was my mother’s uncle.”

  “You just found out about the house, your inheritance?”

  He dug his toe into the crab’s path. “No, I’ve known for a while. The lawyers finally got it all worked out six months or so ago.” Jesse eyed Lauren for a reaction.

  “And you didn’t bother to come until now?”

  There it was. The question. The Lauren he remembered always had questions, wanted to know details. That was her nature, especially after her parents’ marriage had broken up and her father had left without her having an inkling it was coming. And, with the question came the bar he could never measure up to. Not good enough, Brewster.

  “Under the circumstances, I didn’t think it was important.”

  Lauren blanched. “Your mother. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Do you need help finding somewhere to stay while you settle things here?

  “No, the caretaker’s cottage looks in okay condition. I plan to live there while I renovate the house.”

  “I can recommend some reliable contractors, and help you get that deed registered. Consider it a welcoming gift.”

  He didn’t need anything from her or anyone else. What he needed was to prove he could rely on himself. Fatigue and a strong desire to change into something that wasn’t gritty and smelling of fish overcame him. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll get it taken care of. See you around.”

  Lauren’s fading smile softened his dismissal. “Acer and Acer was the executor of Morrison’s estate, so I expect you’ll be working on it.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he forced one foot in front of the other toward his truck.

  C H A P T E R 2

  Lauren shoved the file cabinet drawer closed and tapped the folder she’d removed against her leg. She’d swear that the James Morrison file she held hadn’t been there yesterday. Lauren carried it to her office. She’d been working here for nearly a year and didn’t know anything about the Morrison estate, hadn’t done any research on it for the partners. Very strange. She powered on her computer. She knew for a fact that the Morrison file folder on the network had not been there yesterday—at least not on any part of the network she had access to.

  She slapped her hand on the desk. But Jesse knew she worked for Acer. His parting words had said so. But he might have gotten that from Annie at court this morning. Had Jesse asked the partners, or whichever partner he was working with, to keep his identity secret, even from the other firm employees? Why? What was he up to? And why was it suddenly not a secret anymore? Had Jesse called, and whoever here was keeping the secret had made the files av
ailable by the time she’d gotten back?

  Lauren rubbed her temples. She couldn’t recall if Jesse had had a cell phone. He hadn’t given her a number. The intrigue—most likely imagined on her part—was too much. But wasn’t that just like Jesse to whirl into her life like a tornado and upend everything she had carefully, and without drama, laid out?

  The ring of her cell phone startled Lauren and set her heart pounding. Jesse? The pounding slowed. No, her mother. Jesse didn’t have her phone number.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

  “I closed on a nice sale this morning and thought I’d take you to lunch if you’re free.”

  “Congratulations!” Lauren’s heart swelled with pride. Moving here from Chenango Falls in Upstate New York a couple of years after Lauren’s father had left them was the best thing Mom had ever done. And with no work record, except a part-time job at the makeup counter of a department store for a year and a half, her mother’s slide into selling real estate had been a crowning achievement. “Lunch sounds good.”

  “Caroline’s at one? We’ll miss the noon crush,” her mother said.

  “Works for me, and I have some interesting news for you.”

  “I’ve got another call I should take. Save it for lunch. See you then.”

  Lauren flipped open the paper folder and clicked open the Morrison folder on the network. Saving the info that Jesse was in town and the new owner of the Morrison property until lunch was a good idea. It gave her time to learn more and frame what to share with her mother.

  A half hour later, she closed both files, not much more informed than when she’d opened them. The information was pretty standard for an estate settlement. But why hadn’t the files been in the system before today, and why hadn’t she been asked to do the usual deed search and work the partners usually had her do? Lauren rose from her desk and walked out to the reception area. The lights were off in both of the guys’ offices.

  “Brittany,” she addressed the office assistant, a woman about her age. “Ray and Gerry are out of the office?” Duh, of course they were, unless they were sitting in the dark.

  “Yeah, they have a one o’clock tee-time, so they’ve gone to lunch.”

  “Right. It’s Tuesday.”

  Brittany laughed.

  Their bosses had a standing golf date on Tuesday with Ken Kostner, one of the largest real estate developers in the Charleston area, the man who owned the real estate office in Indigo Bay that her mother worked for. Lauren checked her phone. 11:50. She had time before lunch with Mom. She should do some real work or at least check her email for some. Her questions about Jesse’s inheritance would have to wait.

  “I’ll catch them later.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Brittany asked.

  “No, thanks.” Lauren started to turn back toward her office and stopped. “Maybe. Do you know anything about the Morrison estate? Did you work on it?” Brittany had some paralegal duties.

  The woman shook her head. “Did it just come in? The family changed law firms? Mr. Morrison died a couple of years ago.”

  Foreboding rolled through Lauren. Brittany knew less than she did. “No, the estate was settled six months ago by Acer and Acer.”

  “Really.” Brittany’s eyebrows raised with her voice. She tapped something into her computer. “Look at that. There it is. Who knew Ray or Gerry even knew how to enter a client into the system.”

  Her comment cracked through Lauren’s unease and made her smile. The guys weren’t what Lauren would call computer savvy. Or was that them putting on a good-ole-boy pretense? “I’m going to lunch with my mother at one. If you want to go out now, I’ll hold down the fort.”

  “Great. I do have some errands I wanted to run on my break.”

  And minding the front desk would give Lauren something to do besides check her email, assuming the firm got any calls. Lately, the workload had her wondering if Ray and Gerry had already retired, just hadn’t let her and Brittany know yet. Of course, they could have a whole roster of secret clients. She laughed out loud.

  She couldn’t imagine either of her bosses having the energy or motivation to maintain that kind of intrigue, not to mention the actual legal work. More likely, one of them had taken the Morrison estate because it was simple, despite the family’s prominence, or former prominence. After the outstanding payments to the facility where Mr. Morrison spent his last years had been paid, all that was left was the real property and a small savings account at the local bank branch. Still, her bosses had kept the information secret from her. What did that say about her position with the firm?

  Forty-five minutes later, Lauren pushed open the door to Caroline’s Café.

  “Over here,” a deep, familiar voice called from a back booth.

  The door scraped the side of her leg as she let it go before she was fully inside. There ought to be some cosmic rule about how many times in one day Jesse could surprise her by showing up somewhere she didn’t expect him.

  The waitress handed her a menu as she passed by. “I’ll be with your table in a minute.”

  “Look who I ran into,” her mother said, making room for her to slide into the booth next to her.

  “Hi, Mom. Jesse.” She settled into the seat, taking care to keep her legs to the side of Jesse’s, which he’d stretched out under the table between her and her mother once Lauren was seated.

  “After that cinnamon roll you got me this morning, I had to stop by here and try lunch.”

  Lauren’s face heated before she caught the motion of her mother glancing sideways at her.

  “You knew Jesse was coming and didn’t tell me?” her mother asked.

  So, he hadn’t been here with Mom long enough to get into the details of their meeting or what had brought him to Indigo Bay.

  “No, I was as surprised as you to run into him this morning.”

  “At City Court,” he threw in.

  “You’re an attorney, too, since your accident?” her mother asked.

  “No, I was the defendant and Lauren was my public defender.” Jesse laughed as if he were making a joke, but not before Lauren caught a bleak flash in his eyes.

  “I got caught sleeping on the beach,” he added.

  Her mother smiled. Smiled!

  “It was a beautiful night last night, but we have to have some rules to keep the desirability and property values up for the tourists.”

  “Mom’s in real estate,” Lauren said in response to Jesse’s blank look and in hopes of moving the conversation to something else.

  Their waitress appeared at the booth to help her mission. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I am,” Lauren’s mother said. “I’ll have the seafood cobb salad. House dressing on the side and iced tea.”

  Lauren was next. “I’ll have the same. Blue cheese dressing on the side and raspberry iced tea.

  The waitress, a young woman Lauren didn’t know, jotted down the order and turned her full attention to Jesse. “And you, sir,” the waitress said in a sugary sweet accent that hadn’t sounded close to as thick when she’d addressed Lauren and her mother.

  Curling and relaxing her fingers, Lauren waited for the waitress to bat her lashes at him. What did she care if the woman did? She had no claim on Jesse. Hadn’t for years, if ever.

  “Sonja,” he nodded at Lauren’s mother, “recommended the pulled pork sandwich platter.”

  Sonja. When had Jesse and his mother moved to a first-name basis? In all the time she’d know him, he’d called her mother Mrs. Cooper. She glanced at her mother, who had no reaction to Jesse using her first name. Mom had run hot and cold on Jesse—her and Jesse, not that there was any her and Jesse—depending on how much money he was pulling in. Of course, Jesse might have told Mom about his inheritance.

  “And would y’all like regular or sweet potato fries with that?” the waitress asked.

  “Sweet potato, definitely,” Jesse answered with a wide grin that wasn’t quite the smile she thought of as hers, but close.<
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  Lauren grabbed her napkin and concentrated on opening it and smoothing it on her lap. The waitress had batted her eyelashes at his response.

  “And coffee, black.” He finished his order.

  Lauren raised her head to the waitress’s retreating back. “So,” she said too brightly, “have you told Mom your big news, what brought you to Indigo Bay?”

  Jesse shifted in the booth. “I’m going to renovate the Morrison place.”

  Her mother’s eyes lit up. “You bought it? I’ve always thought it would be a perfect B&B.”

  That was Mom’s latest dream, to open a B&B, and she might do it someday. Lauren’s mood softened. Mom had come a long way from the woman who’d been one hundred percent dependent on Lauren’s father a few years ago, before she’d moved south.

  “I didn’t exactly buy it,” Jesse said.

  “I see. You’re the contractor. So who owns it? The whole town has been speculating on that. I showed the property six months or so ago. It has a lot of potential but needs tons of work.

  Interesting. Jesse had had the house on the market but changed his mind.

  “The property, the house was for sale?” Jesse pursed his lips as though he hadn’t meant to ask his question out loud.

  “Yes, the word around the office was that the executor had problems locating the heir, so the property was listed, I assume to keep the maintenance on the property from draining the estate’s cash.”

  Jesse mumbled what sounded like, “What cash?”

  Lauren checked her mother’s face for a reaction. She must not have heard him.

  “I had a good offer, considering the condition, but the listing was yanked before it was accepted. I assume that’s when the heir was found and that he or she didn’t want to sell.”

  A series of undecipherable emotions played across Jesse’s face, ending in relief when the café’s owner Caroline approached the table with their lunches.

  “Hi, I didn’t see you come in. I know this cobb salad is yours, Sonja, and I assume the pulled pork if for …” Her voice drifted off, waiting for an introduction.