The Red Door Inn (16 page)

“On the Wood Islands ferry.” Had it only been a month since he'd spotted her in the terminal, so alone? “She was hugging her bag like it was a matter of life and death, and I'd never seen a grown-up curl into a ball like that. Everything about her screamed that she wanted to be left alone, but when I saw her counting the change in her pocket and star
ing at the lunch specials, I knew she didn't have two nickels to rub together, and I couldn't stay where I was. My Rose and I didn't have any children. God never saw fit to give us any. But when I saw Marie . . . guess my fatherly instincts kicked in. Lord knows I never wanted a daughter. Too much to worry about. Too many emotions.”

Aretha chuckled, her eyes glistening and her lip trembling. But she remained silent, nodding for him to go on.

“I didn't know what else to do with her, so I sat down next to her and said the first thing that popped into my mind—the only thing I thought about. I asked her what color I should paint my inn. She actually answered me. Once she got to talking about colors and flowers, I didn't want her to stop. By the time we were on the ferry, I thought, ‘Well, this girl could be the answer to my prayers.' We needed a woman's touch, so I talked her into taking a job. Nearly had to force her into it.”

“Jack, that's wonderful.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure. Sounds nice. But now I've got her counting on me, relying on me for a roof over her head and a weekly paycheck, and the Red Door is bleeding money.”

Aretha's eyes grew wide, her hand at her throat. “How?”

He had to look away, so he studied the crevices in the ceiling beams. Saying the truth was harder than he'd imagined. And he knew that Aretha would be disappointed by his failures. Just as Rose would have been.

“It started with having to replace the pipes in all the bathrooms. They were corroded and below grade. Seth worked with a local plumber and replaced them in record time. But it was an unexpected cost. I made an adjustment, taking from
elsewhere in the budget. Then the materials for the two bathrooms that needed to be completely remodeled were much more than the original quote. More money from another part of my budget. I'm stealing from Peter to feed Paul. And in a month, I'll add the salary for an executive chef.”

“Well, that shouldn't be too much. The island is full of young, talented chefs looking for jobs.”

He shook his head, covering his face with his hands, his elbows leaning on the pew in front of him. “I've already contracted a trained chef from New York City. I'll just be able to make his salary. If one more thing goes wrong or costs more than it should, I'll . . . I don't know where I'll be. In trouble, I suppose. Bankrupt and on the road back to Chicago.”

He held his breath for a lecture. Or a look of pity.

He got neither.

“Is that all?” Her bright red lips pursed as she crossed her arms. “My, my, Jack Sloane. I expected more. Seems we may need to toughen you up a little bit. You're borrowing worry from tomorrow. For today, right this minute, Marie has a safe place to stay and a little spending money in her pocket. You have an inn and a plan and two people who are willing to work their trim little rear ends off for you.” She scoffed. “Sounds to me like you've got it pretty good.”

She pulled herself up and held out her hand. “You have friends, and two kids who couldn't love you more if you were their biological father. The good Lord may not have seen fit to give you children to raise, but he certainly hasn't left you alone.”

The words sank in slowly, their warmth spreading from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers.

“Jack, are you about ready?” Marie said, peeking around
the edge of the door. “Seth is getting hungry. And you know how grumpy he gets when he isn't fed.”

He laughed. “I'll be right there.”

Aretha was right. Marie wasn't a liability. She was an asset with a soft heart and an eye for design unlike anyone he'd ever met. She completed the team, and he needed her at least as much as she needed him. He'd offer her everything he had until he didn't have anything left to give. God would just have to take care of the rest.

“Thank you, Aretha.”

“You're quite welcome.” She straightened her hat, and he jumped to his feet, then offered her an elbow as they strolled toward the double wooden doors. “Now, let this friend bring you lunch today. We can eat at one of your fabulous new tables and wonder about all the delightful guests who will find their way to your inn when the doors open on time and within budget.”

He prayed she was right.

This was his only shot at fulfilling Rose's dream.

And maybe then finding his own.

A
fter Aretha's impromptu lunch of cold lobster quiche, Seth left her and Jack at the antique table Marie had bought at the auction and carried a stack of paper plates into the kitchen. Marie closed the dishwasher as he dumped the plates into the trash can. When he stood, she was watching him with an intense focus that made him stand up straighter.

“It's a beautiful day today.”

She nodded. “Do you think it'll stay this way?”

He shrugged. “I hope so. But Father Chuck seemed to think that we're bound for another cold snap.” She shivered at just the mention of another front. But he wasn't going to be held captive by the thought of cold. He'd enjoy what was before him. The warmth of the shining sun and a gentle breeze off the water. And maybe even an opportunity to take Marie up on her last note. He'd had a feeling she'd seen his message that morning, so he'd checked as soon as they were back from church and found her response. “I was thinking
about going for a walk. Maybe down the boardwalk for some ice cream. Want to come with me?”

He held his breath as she nibbled on the corner of her bottom lip, her face a war zone. She opened her mouth with a smile, then snapped it closed with a shake of her head. Rubbing her cheeks with swift movements of her flat palms, she looked at the floor between them.

She'd said she wanted to go. And sooner was better than later. He was giving her the chance she'd asked for.

So why was she hesitating?

Watching her internal battle made his skin crawl and his heart pound.

Maybe there was a more important question. Why did he want her to go with him so badly? Oh, he had a ready answer for that. He still knew almost nothing about her past, or what had brought her to the soon-to-be red door of Jack's bed-and-breakfast.

But an annoying pest in the back of his mind suggested that he just liked spending time with her. That he wanted to see her smile again because when she did, her whole face lit up.

He searched around for something to do with his hands in an effort to silence that voice.

Grabbing the drawer that was jammed about halfway open, he yanked on it until it broke free with a terrible screech, blank white paper flying into his face.

“What are you doing?” Her giggle took the edge off the nuisance in the back of his brain.

“Nothing. Just thought I could fix this drawer before I go for that walk.”

He set the drawer on the counter and squatted down next
to Marie, who was already shuffling the strewn papers into a pile. From under her bangs, she glanced up at him, her smile warm. Not brilliant. Just kind.

He nodded toward the papers in her hands. “Thanks.” When he held out his hand to take them from her, she handed the pages over, and their fingers touched.

And she didn't pull back like he disgusted her.

His gaze shot to where her trembling hand still rested on his. The tremors were invisible, but the vibrations made his whole hand tingle.

“All right?”

She nodded, her eyes trained on the exact point where their hands met. Long lashes fluttered to a stop on her pink cheeks, her lips nearly disappearing as she squeezed them together. A cascade of waves fell over her far shoulder, and he reached to brush the hair behind her ear before he consciously made the movement. It felt like individual strands of brown silk, and he had to fight every urge to rub it between his fingers.

She jumped when he touched her hair, but she didn't pull away.

That was a victory in his book.

He leaned in just enough to catch the full scent of her shampoo—something clean and subtly flowery. She smelled like a garden on the beach. She smelled like a woman should.

She cupped a hand around the smooth skin of her cheek and licked her lips with the tip of her tongue until they were sleek and glossy. All the moisture in his mouth vanished. His gut clenched like a clamp had been twisted on it.

Dear God.

He wanted to kiss her.

Wherever the urge had come from, he beat it down, grasp
ing for something—anything—else to think about. But a man couldn't be expected to focus so close to her perfectly pale features, silky skin, and heavenly scent.

He managed an audible swallow, leaning back just enough to inhale fresh air, clean air.

He had to think of something to say. He had to get his mind off kissing those perfectly shaped lips she pursed as she lifted her eyelids to meet his stare.

Was she taunting him? Inviting him to press his mouth to hers?

Nope. He was still thinking about her lips. And his. Together.

And that would be a recipe for disaster.

His attraction wasn't to be trusted. He'd proved that with Reece.

And he'd never be able to forgive himself if he let this bumbling, uncertain attraction to Marie get in the way of protecting Jack. If she was anything but who she appeared to be, he'd miss it being this close to her.

Still, he couldn't pull his hand away from hers without saying something. “I got your note.”

“I thought maybe you did.” Finally she pulled away, and he could suck in a whole breath, the fog around his mind slowly rolling away. “Is that why you asked me to go with you?”

“Of course. Did you change your mind?”

She stuck her tongue out between her teeth. “It may be a woman's prerogative to change her mind, but she'll never change it about ice cream.”

“Fine. Fine.” He held out a hand to help her stand, but she was already getting to her feet. “I'll never say such a thing again.”

She waggled her eyebrows and pasted a crooked smile into place. “I just thought you might have wanted to give Jack and Aretha some alone time.”

He turned his head in the direction of her gaze, wondering if Jack had walked into the room. But the dining room door was still firmly closed. Squinting at her, he tried to read between the lines of what she was saying. The message didn't translate, so he shook his head. “Why would I give them time alone?”

“Oh, I don't know.” She covered a secret smile with her fingers. She'd gotten into the catbird seat and was in no rush to let him in on the mystery.

With a riddle sparkling behind her sapphire-blue eyes and slender fingers hiding a girlish smile, she was beyond pretty. She was absolutely stunning.

He grabbed the broken drawer from the counter and banged at the dented hardware on its side with the palm of his hand.

Anything to keep his mind off her.

At least her, meaning
her
.

He wasn't making any sense.

Marie, the mildly antagonistic, always enigmatic housemate, was fine. He could think about her and her plot to swindle Jack. But
Marie
, the beautiful woman with a smart tongue and kissable lips, was off-limits. She was bound to be trouble, and he had to keep his mind as far away from that version of her as possible.

He stretched to pick up a hammer and beat the dent until it resembled the metal strip on the opposite side. He slid the drawer back into place. It wobbled but closed all the way. He opened it and shoved the paper back inside, then closed it again.

“There. That's done. What's next?”

“Ice cream.”

He hadn't really been asking her. He'd been trying to forget she was even in the room, actually. But he had invited her.

“All right. Let me just tell Jack we're going.” He ducked into the other room, where Aretha sat with perfect posture, mesmerized by one of Jack's stories. Clearing his throat, he waited for them to look his way. “We're going to get some dessert. Would you like anything?”

“None for me.” Jack patted the plaid flannel shirt over his flat belly. “That lobster and egg deal was something else. I'm not sure I'll need to eat again until next week.”

“You kids have a good time,” Aretha said. Immediately her eyes returned to Jack, who launched back into a story of how he'd gotten caught during a storm on Lake Michigan in a kayak. Seth had heard that tale a few times, and this version was bigger, more grandiose, than ever before. Was Jack trying to impress Aretha?

He frowned at Marie as he turned back into the kitchen. She just smiled that cat-who-ate-the-canary grin.

“What do you know that I don't?”

“Enough.”

He scowled as he pulled a jacket over his T-shirt. Jack had sworn he wasn't interested in Aretha as anything other than a friend. But Marie seemed to suspect something different.

Her levity added a bounce to her step as she traipsed through the mudroom and down the back stairs.

“Don't worry about it,” she said as he caught up to her.

But that's what he did. He worried about Jack. He worried about the inn. If he didn't, who would?

And something was definitely going on between Jack and Aretha.

Whether Jack was aware of it remained to be seen.

Marie's pulse slowed down, her breathing unfettered as she stepped onto the planks of the boardwalk. She drew the warm afternoon air into her lungs, full and whole. What was it about this place that made breathing so much easier than it had been in Boston?

“Do you think there's magic in the air here?”

Seth looked at her like she'd lost her mind, his forehead a sea of wrinkles.

“Don't you feel it? It's like the ocean is calling and good ol' St. Lawrence wants us to go for a swim.”

“St. Lawrence?”

“Well, the gulf was named after someone, wasn't it?”

His nod was as slow as his steps. “I suppose.”

“You're hopeless, Seth.”

His head jerked. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Only that there's something incredible about this place, and you're missing it.” She spun in a slow circle, lifting her face to the sun. Pine trees lent their scent and gulls their song to the day's delights.

“I'm not missing it. I'm not missing anything.” He marched on, ignoring her, save for his monologue. “It's a Sunday afternoon. It's a nice day. But it'll be better with ice cream.”

“Everything's better with ice cream.”

“What's gotten into you?”

She pulled off her jacket and pushed the sleeves of her
sweater up to her elbows, the sun on her skin taking the sting out of the wind. “I don't know.” And she truly didn't.

Maybe it was the way Jack and Aretha had sat so close during lunch, exchanging stories and secret smiles. Maybe it was the local lobster in their lunch. Or simply the smell of spring winning the fight against winter's freezing rain.

Maybe it was that for the first time in three months, she'd had butterflies.

Innocent. Unexpected. Thrilling butterflies.

When Seth had brushed his thumb across her cheek, pushing her hair out of her face, her stomach had erupted like a swarm of monarchs. Their wings had fluttered and flickered, both calling for further contact and terrified of the same.

He'd pulled away just before she flew apart.

And beyond all of that, her body had remembered how to respond to a man's touch.

For months her only reaction to physical contact had been gasping for breath and incapacitating dizziness. But maybe this island was changing her.

She couldn't turn down her smile.

When they reached the fishing village at the end of the path, they veered toward a weather-beaten shack, red paint peeling off the wood siding. In bold letters it proclaimed the treat they'd trekked almost a mile for.

“Ladies first.” Seth offered a slight bow, and Marie didn't need him to offer twice.

At the window, she smiled at the teenager behind the counter. He was less enthusiastic about having to work on such a beautiful day. “How can I help you?” His words were as flat as his metal scooper was round.

Put a smile on your face and be thankful that you're
giving
out the world's sweetest gift.
“I'll have a double scoop of mint chocolate chip.”

“We're all out of that.”

She glared at Seth, who shrugged. This was clearly a second-rate establishment. “Two scoops of strawberry on a cone.”

“Waffle or sugar?”

“Waffle.”

Despite the kid's flagrant disregard for the joy that all ice cream scoopers should display, his portions were generous, and her smile was firmly back in place by the time he handed her the cone. Seth ordered two scoops of vanilla, in spite of her harrumph.

Shrugging, he said, “What? I'm a purist. Chocolate or vanilla.”

She licked at the frozen delight as Seth led the way toward the walkway. But instead of continuing toward the Red Door, he nodded his head in the direction of the beach. “Want to see something?”

“On the beach?”

He nodded.

“All right.”

If she'd thought her day couldn't get better than a tongue coated in strawberry cream, she changed her mind the minute they crested the little hill. The water, so secretive during her morning visits, shone like a diamond under a spotlight in the noon sun.