An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (27 page)

“I was, yes,” I said, sticking out my tongue at him as he took a huge bite. He grinned at me, his mouth full. I turned my attention back to the fact sheet. “I don’t know about this place, but I guess we should check it out.”

“Something will work out, Murray,” Paul said, reaching over to pat my hand before stealing one of my chips to go with the sandwich. “No stressing, okay? This is fun!”

I wasn’t sure that fun was the word I would use, though our quest was exciting. Paul and I had decided against the cabins and lodge on Long Lake. After we had consulted with a contractor, we realized the amount of work would be cost-prohibitive—and that was just to get the place up to code, let alone make it nice enough to really be proud of. So for the last two weeks we had been viewing properties, checking out a dizzying assortment of inns and small hotels. It was depressing, and more than a little sobering, to see how many vacated properties were out there. It was a tough time, economically, to be starting a new business.

I pushed the thought out of my mind as I stood up from the booth. “Come on, we should get going.”

“Can I drive this time?” Paul asked, following me out of the restaurant.

“Forget it,” I said. “Your truck is way too new. It freaks me out. We’ll take my truck.”

“Such a control freak,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

“And you’re the crazy guy who wants to go into business with me,” I said, pushing his shoulder. Paul didn’t respond, but I couldn’t help notice his grin stretched from ear to ear as he climbed into my truck.

* * *

“I think you’re being unreasonable,” Paul said an hour later, his voice cold.

“And I think you’re being a starry-eyed idealist,” I snapped back, starting the engine of my truck.

“You have to take a chance, Brooke,” he said, changing tack. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep playing it so safe.”

“Playing it safe?” I cried, turning to stare at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Watch the road,” he barked.

I turned my attention back to the road, but refused to be put off. “Do you have any idea how tough of a business we’re getting into? Do you have any idea how often these things fail?”

“No, Brooke, I don’t, because clearly I’m a dumbass twelve year old.”

“You’re acting like one,” I muttered.

“And you’re acting like a bitch,” he said simply.

Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for him. Unlike so many people, Paul never let me bully him. He never let me win a fight just because I got scary, and he always told it to me like he saw it. Admirable qualities.

But annoying qualities, too, when I badly wanted to win our fight. “I’m just saying that we can’t let our excitement override our common sense,” I said, more calmly now.

“Fair enough. But I think the real problem is you don’t want a property like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you want something self-contained, not a resort with lots of outbuildings.”

“I want whatever makes the most sense economically and practically,” I argued.

“Brooke, we’re talking about starting our own hotel,” he said. “This is a serious, reach-for-the-stars, live-your-dreams kind of moment.” I snorted, and he slapped my knee. “I’m serious. I know we need to be mindful of the business stuff, but we can’t take a step like this unless we’re both totally excited about the property. I want us to fall in love with it, you know?”

I was quiet. Was it possible my objections to the places we had seen were more emotional and less logical than I had thought?

“What’s your favorite thing about Murray Inn?” Paul asked suddenly.

“Um…” I didn’t want to think about Murray Inn. The only reason I was able to deal with its impending demise was because I was losing myself in the property hunt with Paul. Correctly judging the reason for my hesitation, Paul reached across the gearshift and took my hand.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay to think about it.”

“I really like being in the dining room when it’s full,” I said, blinking to keep the tears growing in my eyes from blurring my vision as I drove. “Do you remember before Thanksgiving?”

“That night Emily came up?” he asked, knowing immediately what I had meant. “Yeah.”

“I loved that. The dining room full, everyone talking and laughing, the fire crackling while it snowed outside. I loved that.”

I let go of his hand so I could rub my eyes. Paul didn’t mention my tears, he just nodded. “Me too. It was perfect.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I wondered if Paul was also lost in memories of the inn or if he was simply giving me my space.

“So,” he finally said, his voice more cheerful. “I think that’s what we should be looking for. Something self contained like an inn or a B&B—everyone in the same building. A place where all your guests can come together for dinner or drinks. A place with that same cozy feeling, that warm atmosphere. Right?”

“That sounds good,” I said, my voice breaking. “That sounds like what I want.”

“Then that’s what we’ll look for,” Paul said simply. He reached over again and took my hand. This time, I didn’t let go.

Between the property hunt and work at the inn, I was spending more time with Paul than I had in years. Hanging out with him so much was great, like old times. I had forgotten how comfortable I was with him, how easy he was to talk to. He wasn’t offended when I was rude or when I cussed, but he also didn’t tease me when I let my more sensitive side come out. It was nice not to have to pretend, or hold certain parts of myself back, the way I did with so many people.

The more time we spent together, the more I remembered why I had been attracted to him in the first place. Paul had always been good looking, though in a less flashy way than John. But the true source of his attraction came from his personality; from the way he could tease me and make it feel like a compliment, to the glint in his eyes when he flirted. I had to remind myself several times a day that I had hurt Paul enough, that we wanted different things and always would. Going down that road again was out of the question.

I was so busy with the property hunt that I barely had time to mourn my breakup with John. As the weeks passed, it all started to feel somewhat like a dream. Had I imagined those overwhelming feelings of needing him? It was hard to remember what it had been like to feel so strongly, like it had happened to someone else.

* * *

In early May, John showed up at the inn once again, as if determined to remind me my feelings for him had, in fact, been real.

I was supposed to be working in my office at the time, but was actually on the Internet looking at properties. Paul wasn’t working that day, giving me no one to obsess with over our search; looking at properties online was the next best thing. I had just opened a new email from him, filled with links to properties, when I heard the knock on my open door.

“John,” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” It was weird, hearing his voice after all this time. I had almost forgotten what he sounded like. I studied his once-so-familiar face. He looked nervous and upset, not at all like the confident, in-control-of-the-world man I remembered.

“What for?” I remembered my manners suddenly and gestured at the chair across from me. “Do you want to sit?”

He looked grateful as he took the seat. “Thanks, Brooke.” We were quiet for a moment, looking at each other. “You look great,” he finally said, his voice intense. “Beautiful as ever.”

“Thanks,” I said, looking down. I wished he would say what he had come to say and get out of here; something about being near to him had my stomach all worked up into knots.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice so soft I wasn’t sure I had heard him. I snapped my head up to look at him, and found him staring at me. “I really, really miss you, Brooke.”

“John,” I said, feeling helpless. What was I supposed to say to that?

“I know I messed up,” he said quickly. “I know I really hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that. That’s why I came here, to tell you that I was sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Really. I’m fine, John.”

He watched me for a moment, looking almost surprised. I wondered what he had expected me to say.

“I’m glad,” he said at last. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

An awkward silence settled over us. John looked like he wanted to say more, but his mouth remained closed as he stared at me.

“Uh, is there anything else?” I finally asked.

“Brooke, give me another chance,” he said suddenly, his voice urgent. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for one anyway.”

“John—”

“I miss you, Brooke. So much. I want you back. Say you’ll come back.”

I felt my heart rate increase. Wasn’t this what I’d been wishing for all these weeks? That he’d beg me to come back? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that his words didn’t fill me with the kind of joy or relief I had expected to feel.

“John, nothing’s changed,” I said, my voice heavy.

“We’ll make it change,” he said, reaching across my desk to take my hands. “Together, we’ll make it what we want it to be.”

“And what about Lainey?”

He swallowed. “I think you should know her. I’d really like the two of you to spend time together.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “That’s a change.” I couldn’t keep the edge of bitterness from my voice, remembering the things he had said about my influence on her.

“I told you I was stupid,” he said quickly. “That’s just one of the many ways.” He grinned at me, that familiar, sex-god grin of his, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m groveling here, Brooke. And happy to do it.”

“I don’t know, John,” I said, trying not to think about how gorgeous he was when he smiled, when his eyes got all warm like that. “It’s been weeks. A lot of things have happened.”

“I know. I know it won’t be easy, but I want us to try.” He squeezed my hands between his, and I felt myself starting to cave.

“I know we could be happy together,” he said. “Even better than before. I’ve been thinking that Lainey and I should go back to Chicago. She’s not adjusting the way I would like, I think she misses her friends and her home. I don’t need my parents so much anymore, you know? I’m getting the hang of this whole thing.”

“Wait,” I pulled my hands back out of his grasp. “You came here to tell me that you want me back but that you think you might be leaving?”

John laughed and reached for my hands again. “I want you to come, too,” he said. “You always said you wanted to get out of here, go live in civilization,” he laughed again. “We should go together. Can’t you just see us? Running around Chicago together? And there are plenty of hotels for you to find a job.”

“I didn’t just have a job in a hotel,” I said, pulling my hands away again. “I ran this inn, John.”

“I know,” he said, his expression changing slightly, as if he was realizing for the first time that maybe I wasn’t on the same page. “That’s what a meant, a place for you to run.”

“I don’t know if I
want
to go to Chicago,” I said, feeling slightly panicked at the thought for some reason.

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly. “It was just a thought. I figured you’d be excited about it.”

I shook my head, feeling confused. John was basically offering me everything I had ever wanted. The chance to get out of this town, to find some real excitement in life, to be with a man who was gorgeous and sophisticated. So why did I feel so sick?

“I don’t know,” I finally said, shaking my head again. “I just don’t know.”

“Brooke, don’t worry about Chicago,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Like I said, it was just an idea.”

I met his eyes. “I don’t mean about Chicago,” I said. “I mean I don’t know about us.”

“Oh,” he said, his face falling. “Oh, I see.”

It was quiet in my office. I struggled to understand what I was feeling, why I wasn’t more thrilled by his offer. Was it because I was still angry with him?

“Can I think about it?” I finally asked.

John’s face cleared. “Of course,” he said. He laughed, but it sounded somewhat forced. “Thinking about it is better than a flat out no, right?”

I smiled at him weakly. “Sure.”

“So, uh,” he said, standing, his entire being exuding awkwardness. “Will you call me?”

“Yeah.” I stood as well, figuring I’d walk him out. As I passed him, John suddenly pulled me into his arms, kissing me before I had the chance to respond.

It was a good kiss, full of passion and warmth. The kind of kiss that two months ago would have melted me into a puddle, eager to do whatever he wished. But my puddle-melting days were over. Instead I pulled back and gave him a smile, able to accept, for the first time what it was—a really good kiss from a really cute guy. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I’ll call you,” I said.

“Good.”

After John left, I stared at my computer for a long time, unable to concentrate even on the property links from Paul. The things John had said chased each other around and around in my head. When I could take it no more, I got up from my desk, deciding a walk would help me think.