An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (6 page)

“Oh, shut up.”

“It’s just funny is all,” he said, leaning over the bar to me. “Now you know what it’s like for all those poor saps that follow you around like puppy dogs.”

“Do I look like a puppy dog to you, Paul?” I asked, standing up straight, my embarrassment fast turning to irritation. Paul just laughed.

“Enjoy your lunch.”

Back at John’s table, I grabbed a chair and set my wine down. I caught sight of Mary, one of the servers, across the room and motioned for her. “I’ll have a steak sandwich, Mary,” I said when she approached. “And a plate of fries, please.”

I was happy that Mary didn’t seem at all interested in the fact that I was eating with a customer. I guess it wasn’t all that odd—my parents and I often ate in the dining room. Just not usually with someone quite this gorgeous.

“So, how’s your room?” I asked, turning my attention back to John.

“It’s very nice,” he said, setting his sandwich down. “Not what I was expecting.”

“You weren’t expecting nice?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s obvious this is a nice place. You take great care of it. I was just expecting more of a…a hunting, forest theme, I guess.”

“A hunting forest theme?” I asked, grinning in spite of myself. “What does that mean? Stuffed animal heads on the wall? Camo-patterned wallpaper?”

He laughed. It was a great laugh, deep and warm. It made my toes feel tingly. “No. I was thinking more like wood paneling, lots of plaid. You know.”

“You mean kind of like down here,” I said, looking around the dark dining room morosely.

“Hey, it works,” he said, catching my expression. “I’m just saying the suite is a lot more sophisticated and minimalist than I would have expected.”

“It used to be pretty much how you described it,” I admitted. “I got to redecorate the third floor last year after some flooding. For the first time it was my design decision, not my parents.”

“So I should be happy I’m not slumming it down on the second floor?”

I laughed. “If you’re not crazy about animal-motif curtains.”

John reached for his drink and took a sip. I couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t touched his sandwich since I sat down. Again, I felt a little thrill.

“Why did you get design decision-making power?”

“It was the first redecorating that needed to be done since I took over the management,” I explained. “I’ve only been the manager for four years.”

“And what did you do before that?” he asked.

“I was in school.” Just then Mary appeared with my sandwich. After I had thanked her, I got to work spreading steak sauce on the bread. “I love these sandwiches,” I told John. “We have the best cook for miles around.”

“Mine is pretty good,” he agreed, looking down at his sandwich as if he forgotten it was there. He looked up at me and grinned. “But I have to tell you, it pales in comparison to the company.”

I was surprised when I felt myself blush. I rarely blushed, and John had made me do so three times now in one morning. His grin grew bigger. “You were saying something about school?”

“Umm,” I said, feeling slightly dazed from the combination of his compliment and his grin. “Uh, yeah. I grew up here and then went away to school. I was planning to get my degree and move somewhere much more exciting.”

“What happened?” he asked, leaning an inch or two closer.

“My dad broke his hip. It was tough on them trying to handle everything with him out of commission. I came home to help out for a while when I graduated…”

I trailed off. I didn’t like the idea of telling this stranger what I had found when I got back and got my hands on the books. As cute as John was, he was still a guest. He didn’t need to hear the gory details of missed tax payments, vendors threatening to sue…I didn’t think my parents even realized how close to ruin they had been.

“And the rest is history?” John asked when it was clear that I wasn’t going to continue. I smiled at him gratefully.

“Let’s just say I couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

We finally turned our attention to our food, eating in silence for a moment. I tried to keep from thinking about the state of the place when I’d returned. It had taken so much work to bring it back from the brink. I had put my heart and soul into the success of this inn, and I was more proud of it than I had ever let on.

“What about you?” I finally asked. “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” he said. Well, that explained the fancy clothes. “I have a few meetings in the area through Monday.”

“Is your practice close by?”

He laughed. “Only if you consider Chicago close.”

“Oh, that’s right, you said this morning you drove up from Chicago.” Of course I had remembered that tidbit, but there was no sense in letting him know how much I’d been thinking about him already.

He didn’t offer up any more information, and I didn’t want to pry, so I let it go. “Well, let me know if you’re looking for something to fill up your free time when you’re not in your meetings.”

He looked up from his sandwich, raising one eyebrow. It suddenly hit me how my words must have sounded, and I flushed even darker than before. “Because I know the area and I can give you some tips,” I said quickly.

John’s eyes flashed again, as if he was trying to keep from laughing. Mortified, I took a large gulp of my wine.
Real good, Murray
, I thought.

“Brooke,” he said. Something in his tone made me look up. His gaze was more intense than I was expecting, and he was leaning even closer across the table. He smiled, a slow, seductive smile. “I promise you’ll be the first one I call.”

Chapter Six

“I have a problem,” I said to Emily twenty minutes later.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, sounding worried.

“I have a new guest staying here.”

“And that’s a problem? God, Brooke, I thought something was seriously wrong. You never call me more than once in a work day.”

“Sorry,” I said. “But this really is a problem. This isn’t any normal guest.”

“Is it a zombie?” she asked, deadpan. “A traveling head of state?”

“Do you want to hear about the insanely hot man or not?”

Emily whistled on the other end of the phone. “A hot man, eh? In Alpena? We don’t get too many of those.”

“You’re telling me. This one isn’t from Alpena though. He’s a lawyer from Chicago. And I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands off him for the next three days.”

Emily laughed. “That hot, huh?”

“God, Em,” I sighed, leaning back in my desk chair and putting my feet up. “You have no idea. I literally don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like him in my life. And it’s not just his looks you know? We spark together.”

“Good looks and a spark. You really do have a problem.”

“You’re telling me,” I grumbled. “I just ate lunch with Mr. Gorgeous, and it was all I could do not to shove my tongue down his throat.”

“You’re a shameless hussy, Brooke Murray.”

“You’re not wrong. But this is too far, even for me. You know my cardinal rule about getting involved with guests.”

“You have a rule about getting involved with guests?” She asked. “I’ve never heard of this rule.”

“Well, that’s probably because I’ve never had a guest at this place that I would think twice about.”

Her soft laughter on the other end of the phone made my stomach hurt a little. I missed Emily so much. What I wouldn’t give to have her here to giggle with me about John in person.

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I have way too much work to do this weekend to worry about a guy.”

“Ooh, it’s the video game thing, isn’t it? Maybe you’ll get lucky—maybe one of those guys will be even hotter and will distract you from Mr. Gorgeous of Chicago.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Brooke, maybe this guy showing up today isn’t so random. Have you considered that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, we just got done talking about how you were ready for a relationship. And bam, the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen suddenly shows up. And gets all sparky with you. Maybe that’s not a coincidence.”

“Em, what part of Chicago are you not getting?”

“Don’t let geography stand in the way of true love, sweetie.”

“Emily Donovan, you know what will happen if you start throwing around words like true love.”

“You’ll hang up on me?”

“Yup.” I was quiet for a moment. “But on second thought, maybe you do have a point. Maybe this wasn’t coincidence after all.”

On the other end of the phone, Emily affected a dramatic gasp. “Hang on, is this still Brooke? Who am I talking to? Are you actually going to tell me you believe in something so romantic?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” I said. “I was going to say, maybe John is supposed to be my last wild fling, you know? Final one-night stand before I settle down into the drudgery of a relationship like you.”

Emily snorted. “This is what we call rationalizing Brooke. You are clearly trying to convince yourself it would be a good idea to sleep with Mr. Gorgeous.”

“Em, you didn’t see how hot he was,” I whined. “I’m entitled to a little rationalization.”

“Just be careful,” she said, her voice sounding affectionate. “I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. You are in charge of a pretty big staff in that inn, you know.”

“And you don’t think I should let them think I’m a giant slut?”

She laughed again. “It might make things feel slightly uncomfortable for you if they catch you with your pants down.”

I got off the phone a few minutes later, knowing Emily was right. I prided myself on my professionalism. There was no way I was going to let some big city boy make me forget that.

Even if I did get the feeling that he would be totally worth it.

* * *

Luckily, I didn’t see John around for the rest of the afternoon. I was finally able to make myself get focused; the video gamers would be arriving just before dinner, and I was pleased to say I was ready for them.

I stopped back at the apartment before their check-in time. I wanted to rest for a few minutes and change into a fresh outfit. In the throes of my hangover, I had opted for comfort that morning and I figured something a bit more professional wouldn’t be amiss. Jeans were okay once in a while, but I tried to make it a practice to wear heels to work; in my experience, a girl just felt better in high heels.

“Hi, Dad,” I said as I walked into my parents’ kitchen. He was sitting at the table with his paper and a mug of coffee. I frowned when I saw it. “Daddy, you know the doctor said no more caffeine after lunch.”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “I thought I had the place to myself.”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked, pouring myself my own cup of coffee and sitting down to join him. My headache, which had seemed to disappear in the excitement of the new arrival, was creeping back to full force.

“She’s
shopping
,” my dad said, his disapproval evident. My father was big on shopping locally. He hated when my mom would drive to the outskirts of town to do her shopping at one of the big chains that had appeared in recent years. “Apparently they’re having a deal on pillows.” His sniff of derision made clear his opinion on the kind of pillows she might find at such a store.

“Sorry, Dad,” I told him, patting his hand. “That’s my fault. I asked her to go for me. We desperately need new pillows in a few of the guest rooms.”

He looked at me with something akin to horror on his face. “And you couldn’t get them from Betty’s?” Betty, an old friend of my father’s, operated a small home goods boutique next door to the inn.

“Dad, she was going to charge me ten dollars more per pillow. I need twenty pillows. That kind of thing adds up.”

He spluttered for a moment, apparently too upset with me to form words. I patted his hand again. “Sorry, Dad. Money’s tight.”

“Brooke Marie, don’t you ever do that again,” he said suddenly, his voice much stronger, and more angry, than I would have expected. His tone, and the use of my middle name, startled me.

“What?”

“Make a decision like that without consulting me.”

“Dad, I’m the manager—”

“It’s my inn!” he cried, slamming his fist down on the table. I stared at him in shock. My dad never raised his voice at me. “Sweetheart,” he went on, sounding more like himself, “I appreciate the work you’ve done to save the inn. I know you had to fix a lot of my mistakes. I may not always be the best with business decisions…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

“Dad—”

He held up a hand to silence me. “But I have bought our bedding and supplies at Betty’s for twenty years. She’s always been willing to cut me a good deal. We need to support stores like hers.”

It was always the same with my dad—wanting to support everyone else even to the detriment of his own business. I started to sigh, but something in his expression stopped me. “I mean it, Brooke. To you it’s saving some money, I get that. But what happens to our inn when all the downtown stores shut down? When all the business in town is located out at the strip malls. What do you think that will do to us, huh?”