His Kindred Spirit

by Sloan Johnson

  Seems like the men in the Montgomery family have a history of picking all the wrong women. Good thing that’s one bullet I’ll manage to dodge. Luckily I was awake enough to avoid saying that out loud.

  “Before we go any further, I feel I owe you a bit of an explanation.”

  I waved him off. As curious as I was about my family and how he’d suddenly reappeared after an entire lifetime, I didn’t want him lancing old wounds for my sake.

  “No, you deserve to understand a bit about the Montgomery family,” he insisted, sipping at his coffee, picking at his pastry. “Or perhaps it’s more fair to say the Leeds family. You see, your grandmother came from old money. Her family still owns a plantation in South Carolina, and everything they do is for appearances. When she fell in love with your grandfather, they made their distaste known, but she was a rebellious debutante set to carve her own way in the world.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I argued. If she’d faced that type of reaction when she met my grandfather, why in the world would they have shunned my dad for falling in love with my egg donor? Granted, they might have had legitimate concerns given how that particular story ended, but it didn’t compute in my brain.

  “Anyway, she was always the one in control in our family. She was a spiteful woman, and I think she grew to regret the choices she’d made to prove a point to her family,” he continued. “Looking back, I’m not sure my parents ever truly loved one another, but even suggesting divorce was forbidden as far as she was concerned. It was much better, in her view, to be miserable and drag everyone down with her. Eventually I think it was the poison inside of her that did her in.”

  “When did she die?” I was clueless but wanted to know that my grandfather hadn’t been miserable until his last day too. I hoped he had a bit of freedom at the end.

  “She fell ill about six years ago, passed away shortly after,” he told me, with all the emotion of someone reading out of a textbook. “That was when the inn started to thrive. She’d never wanted Dad to buy the place, but it was his dream. He loved people. Loved families—functional families. He’d spend every waking hour in the sitting room or back here on the patio, watching children play.

  “My father never forgave his wife for telling Max to leave. Blamed her for the fact he never knew you. Cried at night when the news came out about your dad.”

  “Then why didn’t he reach out before it was too late?” I slammed my fist down on the table. None of this made sense. He could’ve fixed the problem. I could’ve known him rather than having to listen to James tell me what he was like.

  “Phillip Montgomery was a proud man.” James’s voice softened. His shoulders slumped forward, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad died with many regrets, but none was greater than not knowing you. By the time my mother died, he felt it was too late. Figured Max wouldn’t forgive him. Assumed your mind would’ve been filled with how evil we were. In short, I believe he was scared. I don’t doubt that a bit because I know how hard it was for me to write that first letter to your father, how ill with nerves I felt yesterday on the drive to pick you up.”

  “And yet, you found a way to get past all of that,” I pointed out. I knew enough about the past for now. I wanted to know about the present and what gave him the courage to find us.

  “I had to,” he admitted. “You see, when your grandfather died, he was very specific as to his wishes. This inn was his pride and joy. His legacy, as it were. It was the one thing in the world that he felt was his, and he insisted it stay in the Montgomery family.”

  James slid a manila folder across the table. I flipped open the cover and closed it just as quickly. That was my name on the front page of what looked like a legal document. Not my father’s, mine.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After the conviction, your grandfather knew he couldn’t leave anything to Max. Any assets of your father’s could be taken by the families of those he supposedly stole from.”

  James earned bonus points with me because he didn’t automatically assume Dad was guilty. “So he left this place to me?”

  “Half of it,” James corrected. “The other half will be mine once the trust clears.”

  “What happens if I don’t want it?” I asked, because this wasn’t anywhere in my life’s goals. Sure, I’d briefly considered what a life in Sunset Beach could possibly look like for me, but it hadn’t been more than a fleeting thought.

  “No one’s saying you have to be part of the daily operations,” he told me. “If you’re not interested, you can be a silent partner. Or we could discuss our options for selling. I have no doubt we could turn a hefty profit if we sold.”

  James’s eyes lit up as if that was the option he’d prefer. But he’d just said his father didn’t want our family to lose the inn, and I respected the wishes of a man I’d never met a hell of a lot more than I longed for more money to collect interest because I didn’t feel as though I had the right to spend it.

  “Don’t feel you need to make any decisions today, just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “I will,” I promised him. Thinking about it was probably the only thing I’d do for the foreseeable future. I’d come to North Carolina, determined to check the place out for my dad in hopes it’d be a good place for him once he got out. Before I’d even boarded my plane, I’d been counting down the days until I got back to civilization, hoping to hit a few clubs and maybe get laid before my next assignment for work. Now, I freaking owned part of an oceanside inn, had an uncle who wasn’t quite as much of an asshat as I’d originally expected, and I’d met a guy I wanted to get to know more than just carnally. I barely even recognized myself.

  And speak of the devil, Brook hobbled through the french doors just as I opened my mouth to tell James I didn’t think selling would be necessary. James grimaced, staring pointedly at Brook’s wrapped ankle.

  “It’s just a sprain. Don’t worry. I’ll still manage to get everything done before the grand opening.”

  I expected James to tell him to take it easy, that the inn would run without him.

  He dropped a few rungs on the coolness ladder in my mind when he scowled. “I hope so. We’re running out of time, and everything needs to be perfect.”

  Before Brook could respond, because I wasn’t sure there was a suitable response to James’s quick-change personality, I chimed in. “Brook, tell me what you need done. Not like I have anything better going on right now.”

  “You don’t have to help me. I’ll be fine,” he responded through gritted teeth. I needed to get him alone and figure out what in the hell I’d done to offend him last night.

  “Really, I don’t mind.” After all, it seemed I had a vested interest in the success of the inn. I wondered if he knew why James had summoned me down here. And why was James so terse with him right after I’d convinced myself he was a decent guy? Brook hadn’t hurt himself on purpose; James should be convincing him to rest so his foot had time to heal before there was a building full of guests to take care of. I might not know much about running a place like this, but I knew full well how crazy it would be once the rooms were filled.

  I excused myself and joined him near the door. James didn’t need to overhear this part of the conversation. While I wasn’t sure how I’d upset Brook, I was damned sure going to make it right. After all, he was a large part of the appeal of helping run the Bird Island Inn.

  As tempting as it was to reach out for him, I kept my hands to myself. “I know you’re going to keep insisting you don’t need any help, but I’m not offering for you. I want to help you out. I’ve never been one to just sit around doing nothing, and I’d love to learn more about the inn.”

  “In that case, finish up your breakfast and meet me inside. There’s plenty of work to be done.” The dramatic turn of heel didn’t have quite the same impact as he limped through the lobby, but he was still completely adorable. And I was utterly screwed.

  Chapter 6

  (Brook)
>
  “OKAY, SO here’s a question for you….” Dane handed me a bottle of water. It was a gorgeous night, the last we’d have before the grand opening. I’d suggested we head into town for the night, but Dane insisted I take it easy.

  I’d gotten so used to working no matter how I felt that it was hard for me to sit back and watch him do the heavy lifting. Okay, so not as hard as it would’ve been if he hadn’t been so damn sexy and sweet, but still, I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to earn a paycheck. But Dane insisted, so I listened.

  “What’s that?” I asked when he didn’t finish his thought. That happened frequently; he’d start to say something, and then the thought would fly out of his head, off to find its friends. Yet another trait that would be annoying if it was anyone other than Dane. Right now he was sitting across the table from me with his feet propped on the same chair as the ankle I was icing. Every once in a while, our feet would touch, and I swore a zing of electricity shot through me. Which was stupid. It was incidental contact, nothing more. And I wouldn’t dare tell him how it made me feel because I still hadn’t figured out a way to apologize for my behavior almost a week earlier.

  “So, it’s called Bird Island. Where in the hell are the birds?” He swept his hands through the air as evidence of the lack of a flock worthy of naming an entire island after the birds. “And furthermore, why in the hell is this place called the Bird Island Inn if it’s not on Bird Island?”

  “That’s an easy one,” I told him, leaning forward to prop my chin on my hands. While I wouldn’t explain that I knew the answer because I’d heard his grandparents bickering about the ridiculous name of the place, his grandfather’s logic was sound. “When your grandfather bought this place, he wanted a name that’d be recognizable. By that point, the Kindred Spirits Mailbox was common knowledge, and everyone knew it was on Bird Island. Since this is the closest commercial property to the island, he decided to use the name.”

  Dane sat back in his chair, watching me drink my water. It was a little creepy, but I got the sense he was in one of his thinking moods. He’d done that a lot this week, along with asking questions. It’d broken my heart when he shared a little bit of what he and James had talked about over breakfast. I tried to imagine life without my grandpa in it and couldn’t. He’d always been my stability, much as Dane’s dad seemed to be to him.

  “What was he like?” Dane finally asked, his voice soft and vulnerable. I thought for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell him, honored that I had this information to share with him.

  “Your grandpa was really cool,” I told him. He scoffed and I shook my head. “No, seriously. Don’t take this personally, but I always wondered why he was with your grandma. She was stuffy and stuck-up. She hated it when he’d walk the beach in the mornings, barefoot with this ratty, floppy hat protecting his bald head. There’s a jar of shells in the sitting room that was his personal collection. Every day, he’d add a new one. From time to time, we’d have to get a bigger container.

  “And he was a hard worker. I was surprised he hired me, because I’d been in here at least a dozen times asking for work.”

  “Why not just go someplace else?” he asked. It was a logical question without a good answer. He’d think I was nuts if I told him I’d been drawn to this building even before his family bought the place. Back then it sat empty and I used to sneak in through a boarded-up window. It was quiet, which home never was for me.

  There was something special about this building, the island, everything. It’d be foolish to say, but part of me felt like I’d been led here by some greater power in the universe. It tethered me here, even when I got restless and said I wanted to leave someday.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” he said, breaking my train of thought.

  My cheeks flushed as I realized I was the one with the wandering mind now.

  “Did you like working for them?”

  Another tricky question. “Him, yes,” I responded. “Your grandmother, not so much. Nothing was ever good enough for her. She wanted to attract high-end clientele if she was going to be stuck here, but every time he suggested they invest in renovations, she shot him down. And she didn’t care who was around to hear it. Sometimes I wondered if she got off on the power trip, proving to anyone in earshot that she held the ultimate control.”

  “Is that why James has put all this work into the place over the winter?” Damn. Why couldn’t we get back to a lighter topic? Every question Dane asked had a complex answer.

  “I definitely think that’s part of it.”

  “But?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to share my suspicions. James had been acting strange for a while now, and I didn’t think it was just because Phillip passed away. Last fall, I noticed a dark SUV in the parking lot a few times, and every time they drove away, James would walk back inside in a foul mood. Something was going on there.

  “Never mind.”

  Dane leaned forward and took my hand. Realizing what he’d done, he started to pull away, so I gripped his fingers tighter. I liked the way I felt when he touched me. Loved the way he looked at me. Wished like hell there wasn’t a countdown timer ticking away until he left, because Dane was a good man.

  “If there’s something I need to know about James, tell me,” he pleaded. “My dad’s supposed to be coming down here next month, and if James is mixed up in something illegal, I’ll have Dad move in with me instead.”

  “I don’t think it’s anything like drugs if that’s what you’re hinting at,” I told him, refusing to go any further. Grandpa always scolded my mom and her friends for gossiping, even once they were grown, and I went out of my way to avoid it.

  Our conversation faded, and we sat watching the tide creep up the beach with every set of waves. The sound of a girl shrieking in the distance followed by rich laughter made me smile. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, wishing I felt up to a walk across the island tonight because the weather was perfect for it.

  When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t believe what sat on the table. A green notebook with the edges curled up from use. “Where’d you get this?”

  Dane’s cheeks turned pink, the corner of his mouth lifting upward in a shy smile. “I figured you hadn’t been out to the mailbox since the night we were there. Thought you might miss your reading time.”

  “So you made a four-mile round-trip for me?” Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked, because that was the type of guy Dane was, but no one had ever gone out of their way like this for me. I didn’t have a lot of dating experience, but I’d never even been able to get any of my boyfriends to walk out there with me. They all thought it was a redneck tourist trap, not worth wasting hours of their time. But Dane, who I’d treated like crap last Saturday morning, had walked out there and brought back a book for me to read without me even asking.

  “Go on, pick a page and read it to me.” Dane slid lower in his chair and closed his eyes.

  I flipped the notebook open to a random page.

  “What’s it say?”

  “This one’s cheesy,” I warned him.

  “Don’t care. Whatever page you open it to is the one you have to read.” He sat up and smiled. “That’s a new rule I made up. The people who write those notes want to be heard, so let’s hear them.”

  Heart. Melting. “Okay, just remember you asked for it. Based on the handwriting and what it says, I’m pretty sure this was a teenage girl, probably out there with her parents, but maybe not.”

  “You’re stalling,” he pointed out, smirking again. If I was bolder, I’d have lunged over this table and kissed that cocky grin off his face.

  “I met the most amazing guy yesterday, but I probably won’t get to see him again. He was funny and really cute. And he said I had a nice smile. No one’s said that to me before, probably because I had those stupid braces for so long. But he liked my smile…”

  I kept reading until the end of the letter, signed with a heart with two sets of initials.

&n
bsp; “That wasn’t so bad,” he said when I finished. “I wonder if she did get to see him again before they left. Or if they at least kept talking. I hope so.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a closet romantic, Dane Montgomery,” I teased.

  “For other people, sure,” he conceded.

  My heart ached that he thought love and romance was something for everyone but him. Wanted to know what’d happened in his life that gave him such a callous view. It’d make sense if he’d grown up around his grandparents, but he’d been spared of that.

  Without hesitating I shifted to the chair between us, lifting Dane’s feet and dropping them into my lap. His eyes shot open, he tensed, but then he gave me that killer, perfectly straight smile. Maybe it was the part about the girl having braces and getting picked on that resonated with him. It was possible he truly didn’t understand how gorgeous he was, and I wanted to be the one to show him.

  “This okay?” I asked, digging the tips of my fingers into his rock-hard calves. It was possible they were so firm because of muscle tone, but he radiated tension. Had been most of the week. As I worked, I felt the tissue relaxing, warmed when he sighed praises. He toed out of the sandals he’d bought, wiggling his toes in a not-so-subtle invitation to keep going. I handed over the notebook so he could continue reading while I focused on making him feel good.

  I kept rubbing while Dane leafed through the notebook, occasionally stopping to read some of the shorter notes or turn the book around so I could see a drawing.

  “What happens to the notebooks when the mailbox is full?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Volunteers take them up to UNC Wilmington whenever there’s a full box, and they’re in the library there.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to store them someplace local?”