Best of My Love (Fool's Gold) (23 page)
Read Best of My Love (Fool's Gold) Online
Authors: Susan Mallery
One corner of his mouth turned up, then the other. “I love you, too. A lot. It kind of freaked me out when I figured it out.”
Relief tasted sweet. Like the perfect cookie melting on her tongue. Only the sensation was in every part of her.
“Did you scream like a little girl?” she teased.
“Almost.”
His smile faded. “Shelby, I love you and I want to be with you, but there are some things you have to know.” He drew in a breath. “I get you were scared and that’s okay. You’re going to be scared. I probably am, too, sometimes. And we’re going to screw up. We can’t be together for the next seventy years and not hurt each other. That comes with being in love. But no matter what, I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to love you every day and when something bad happens, you and I are going to talk about it. Endlessly.”
She started to laugh, then cry. Finally she threw herself at him. He pulled her close and hung on like he would never let go.
He was warm and solid as he held her. Everything about him was right.
“Marry me,” he whispered in her ear. “Please marry me.”
She looked at him. “Yes. Please. Of course.”
He laughed and swung her around. Charlie barked at them, then ran in circles, as if he, too, knew something great had just happened.
Aidan kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. Then he drew back. “I hope it’s okay, but I promised Nick we’d get married in Happily Inc. I guess it’s some kind of destination wedding town. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine, as long as I get to pick the honeymoon destination.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Somewhere sunny with a big bed.”
He grinned. “Works for me.”
* * *
“N
OW
,
HOW
DOES
this go?” Noelle asked, looking at her two cards.
Gabriel patiently pushed the cards so they faced the table. “No one is supposed to see those, honey.”
“Because you’ll bet against me?” she asked. “But you love me. You can’t bet against me. So I’m supposed to decide how much to put down?”
Shelby held in a grin. “Noelle, it’s cards, not
Sophie’s Choice
. Just go with it.”
Angel sighed heavily. “Whose idea was this?”
Taryn leaned into him. “Are you saying you’re not having fun?”
“I’m not sure having women join us at Texas hold ’em is a good thing.”
“Later I’ll take all my clothes off.”
Justice raised his eyebrows. “Here or at home? Because if it’s here, we might get uncomfortable. Not that it wouldn’t be a good show,” he added hastily.
Patience shot him a glance. “Really? You want to see Taryn naked? I never knew that.”
“I don’t. I was being supportive of one of your friends.” He turned to Aidan. “Help.”
Aidan leaned back in his chair. “See, gentlemen? Being friends with the ladies is harder than it looks. Now you’re all going to apologize to me for all the insulting things you thought when you found out I was hanging out with Shelby as just a friend.”
“You went to a baby shower,” Kipling said. “That’s kind of hard to let go.”
Shelby grinned, knowing Kipling would be even more shocked by the pedicures. But that was their little secret.
She looked at Aidan and he winked back. He grabbed her left hand, stared briefly at the large diamond there, then kissed her palm.
They were officially engaged, with their wedding to follow in a few months, in Happily Inc., as per his promise to Nick. She’d chosen a beautiful resort in the Caribbean for their honeymoon. Flour Power was doing well, as was Aidan’s business. Charlie was starting agility training and every single day Shelby knew that she was the luckiest person in the world.
She had family, a loving husband-to-be and a wonderful community that had allowed her to achieve all her dreams. Maybe it was a cliché, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Love healed. She and Aidan had been healed in the best ways possible. And now they got to be in love...forever. Right here in Fool’s Gold.
* * * * *
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“
Susan Mallery is one of my favorites.
”
—#1
New York Times
bestselling author Debbie Macomber
Experience the best in contemporary romance with the charming
Fool’s Gold
series by Susan Mallery. Be sure to get all of the titles in this captivating series full of hope, laughter and love to last a lifetime.
Best of My Love
Love. Laughter. Happily-Ever-After.
“
Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.
”
—
Booklist
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by Susan Mallery
CHAPTER ONE
O
NE
OF
THE
advantages of being freakishly tall was easy access to those upper kitchen cabinets. The disadvantages...well, those were probably summed up by the word
freakishly
.
Courtney Watson folded her too-long legs under her as she tried to get comfortable in a chair incredibly low to the ground. Adjusting the height wasn’t possible. She was only filling in at the concierge desk while Ramona hurried off for yet another bathroom break. Apparently, the baby had shifted and was now reclining right on her bladder. From what Courtney could tell, pregnancy was a whole lot of work with an impressive dash of discomfort. The last thing she was going to do was change anything about the chair where Ramona spent a good part of her day. Courtney could pretend to be a pretzel for five minutes.
Late on a Tuesday evening, the lobby of the Los Lobos Hotel was quiet. Only a few guests milled around. Most were already up in their rooms, which was where Courtney liked the guests to spend their time at night. She wasn’t a fan of those who roamed. They got into trouble.
The elevator doors opened and a small, well-dressed man stepped out. He glanced around the lobby before heading directly to her. Well, not to
her
, she would guess. The concierge desk at which she sat.
Her practiced smile faltered a bit when she recognized Milton Ford, the current president of the California Organization of Organic Soap Manufacturers, aka COOOSM. Mr. Ford had arranged for the annual meeting to be held in town, and everyone was staying at the Los Lobos Hotel. Courtney knew that for sure—she’d taken the reservation herself. But the meetings, the meals and all the income that flowed from them were taking place at the Anderson House.
“Hello.” He looked at the name plate on the desk. “Uh, Ramona. I’m Milton Ford.”
Courtney thought about correcting him on her name, but figured there wasn’t much point. Despite his giving all that pretty catering money to one of their competitors, she would still do her job—or in this case, Ramona’s—to the best of her abilities.
“Yes, Mr. Ford. How may I help you this evening?” She smiled as she spoke, determined to be pleasant.
Even if Mr. Ford had decided to hold his stupid awards luncheon at the Anderson House instead of in the hotel’s very beautiful and spacious ballroom, Courtney would do her best to make sure his stay and the stays of his colleagues were perfect.
Her boss would tell her not to be bitter, so Courtney returned her smile to full wattage and promised herself that when she was done with Mr. Ford, she would head to the kitchen for a late-night snack of ice cream. It would be an excellent reward for good behavior.
“I have a problem,” he told her. “Not with the rooms. They’re excellent as always. It’s the, ah,
other
facility we’ve booked.”
“The Anderson House.” She did her best not to spit the words.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there are...bees.”
Now the problem wasn’t a lack of smiling but the issue of too much of it. Joyce, her boss, would want her to be professional, she reminded herself. Glee, while definitely called for, wasn’t polite. At least not to Mr. Ford’s face. Bees! How glorious.
“I hadn’t heard they were back,” she said sympathetically.
“They’ve had bees before?”
“Every few years. They usually stay outside of town, but when they come into the city limits, they like the Anderson House best.”
Mr. Ford dabbed his forehead with a very white handkerchief, then tucked it back into his pocket. “There are hundreds of them. Thousands. Entire hives sprung up, practically overnight. There are bees everywhere.”
“They’re not particularly dangerous,” Courtney offered. “The Drunken Red-nosed Honeybee is known to be calm and industrious. Oh, and they’re endangered. As a maker of organic soap, you must be aware of the issues we’re having keeping our honeybee numbers where they should be. Having them return to Los Lobos is always good news. It means the population is healthy.”
“Yes. Of course. But we can’t have our awards luncheon in the same house. With the bees. I was hoping you’d have room for us here.”
Here? As in the place I offered and you refused, telling me the Anderson House was so much better suited?
But those thoughts were for her, not for a guest.
“Let me check,” she told him. “I think I might be able to make room.”
She braced herself to stand. Not physically, but mentally. Because the well-dressed Mr. Ford, for all his dapperness, was maybe five foot six. And Courtney wasn’t. And when she stood...well, she knew what would happen.
She untangled her long legs and rose. Mr. Ford’s gaze followed, then his mouth dropped open a second before he closed it. Courtney towered over Mr. Ford by a good six inches. Possibly more, but who was counting?
“My goodness,” he murmured as he followed her. “You’re very tall.”
There were a thousand responses, none of them polite and all inappropriate for the work setting. So she gritted her teeth, thought briefly of England, then murmured as unironically as she could, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
* * *
C
OURTNEY
WAITED
WHILE
her boss stirred two sugars into her coffee, then fed half a strip of bacon to each of her dogs. Pearl—a beautiful, blond standard poodle—waited patiently for her treat, while Sarge, aka Sargent Pepper—a bichon–miniature poodle mix—whined at the back of his throat.
The dining room at the Los Lobos Hotel was mostly empty at ten in the morning. The breakfast crowd was gone and the lunch folks had yet to arrive. Courtney got the paradox of enjoying the hotel best when guests were absent. Without the customers, there would be no hotel, no job and no paycheck. While a crazy wedding on top of every room booked had its own particular charm, she did enjoy the echoing silence of empty spaces.
Joyce Yates looked at Courtney and smiled. “I’m ready.”
“The new linen company is working out well. The towels are very clean and the sheets aren’t scratchy at all. Ramona thinks she’s going to last until right before she gives birth, but honestly, it hurts just to look at her. That could just be me, though. She’s so tiny and the baby is so big. What on earth was God thinking? Last night I met with Mr. Ford of the California Organization of Organic Soap Manufacturers. Bees have invaded the Anderson House, and he wants to book everything here. I didn’t mock him, although he deserved it. So now we’re hosting all their events, along with meals. I talked him into crab salad.”
Courtney paused for breath. “I think that’s everything.”
Joyce sipped her coffee. “A full night.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Did you get
any
sleep?”
“Sure.”
At least six hours, Courtney thought, doing the math in her head. She’d stayed in the lobby area until Ramona’s shift had ended at ten, had done a quick circuit of the hotel grounds until ten thirty, studied until one and then been up at six thirty to start it all again.
Okay, make that five hours.
“I’ll sleep in my forties,” she said.
“I doubt that.” Joyce’s voice was friendly enough, but her gaze was sharp. “You do too much.”
Not words most bosses bothered to utter, Courtney thought, but Joyce wasn’t like other bosses.
Joyce Yates had started working at the Los Lobos Hotel in 1958. She’d been seventeen and hired as a maid. Within two weeks, the owner of the hotel, a handsome, thirtysomething confirmed bachelor, had fallen head over heels for his new employee. They’d married three weeks later and lived blissfully together for five years, until he’d unexpectedly died of a heart attack.
Joyce, then all of twenty-two and with a toddler to raise, had taken over the hotel. Everyone was certain she would fail, but under her management, the business had thrived. Decades later she still saw to every detail and knew the life story of everyone who worked for her. She was both boss and mentor for most of her staff and had always been a second mother to Courtney.
Joyce’s kindness was as legendary as her white hair and classic pantsuits. She was fair, determined and just eccentric enough to be interesting.
Courtney had known her all her life. When Courtney had been a baby, her father had also died unexpectedly. Maggie, Courtney’s mother, had been left with three daughters and a business. Joyce had morphed from client to friend in a matter of weeks. Probably because she’d once been a young widow with a child, herself.
“How’s your marketing project coming along?” Joyce asked.
“Good. I got the notes back from my instructor, so I’m ready to move on to the final presentation.” Once she finished her marketing class, she was only two semesters away from graduation with her bachelor’s degree. Hallelujah.
Joyce refilled her coffee cup from the carafe left at the table. “Quinn’s arriving this week.”
Courtney grinned. “Really? Because you’ve only mentioned it every morning for the past two weeks. I wasn’t completely sure when he was getting here. You’re sure it’s this week? Because I couldn’t remember.”
“I’m old. I get to be excited about my grandson’s arrival if I want to.”
“Yes, you do. We’re all quivering.”
Joyce’s mouth twitched. “You have a little attitude this morning, young lady.”
“I know. It’s the Drunken Red-nosed Honeybees. I always get attitude when they take over the Anderson House. Gratitude attitude.”
“Quinn’s still single.”
Courtney didn’t know if she should laugh or snort. “That’s subtle. I appreciate the vote of confidence, Joyce, but let’s be honest. We both know I’d have a better shot at marrying Prince Harry than getting Quinn Yates to notice me.” She held up a hand. “Not that I’m interested in him. Yes, he’s gorgeous. But the man is way too sophisticated for the likes of me. I’m a small-town girl. Besides, I’m focused on college and my work. I have no free boy time.” She wanted her degree within the next year, then a great job and then men. Or a man. Definitely just one.
The
one. But that was for later.
“You’ll date when you’re forty?” Joyce asked humorously.
“I’m hoping it won’t take that long, but you get the idea.”
“I do. It’s too bad. Quinn needs to be married.”
“Then you should find him someone who isn’t me.”
Not that Quinn wasn’t impressive, but jeez. Her? Not happening.
She’d met him a handful of times when he’d come to visit his grandmother. The man was wildly successful. He was in the music business—a producer, maybe. She’d never paid attention. On his visits, he hung out with Joyce and her dogs, otherwise kept to himself, then left without making a fuss. Of course the fuss happened without his doing a single thing other than show up.
The man was good-looking. No, that wasn’t right. Words like
good-looking
, or
handsome
, should be used on ordinary people with extraordinary looks. Quinn was on a whole other plane of existence. She’d seen happily married middle-aged women actually simper in his presence. And to her mind, simpering had gone out of style decades ago.
“You really think he’s moving to Los Lobos?” she asked, more than a little doubtful.
“That’s what he tells me. Until he finds a place of his own, I’ve reserved the groundskeeper’s bungalow for him.”
“Nice digs,” Courtney murmured. “He’ll never want to leave.”
Although to be honest, she couldn’t imagine the famous, Malibu-living music executive finding happiness in their sleepy little Central California town, but stranger things had happened.
“I’ll check his arrival date and make sure I’m assigned to clean it,” she told her boss.
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate the gesture.”
“It’s not exactly a gesture. It’s kind of my job.”
While she was considered a jack-of-all-trades at the hotel, her actual title was maid. The work wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills, and right now that was what mattered to her.
“It wouldn’t be if you’d—”
Courtney held up her hand. “I know. Accept a different job. Tell my family about my big secret. Marry Prince Harry. I’m sorry, Joyce. There are only so many hours in a day. I need to have priorities.”
“You’re picking the wrong ones. Prince Harry would love you.”
Courtney smiled. “You are sweet and I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, about the wedding.”
Courtney groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Yes. Your mother is getting married in a few months. I know you’re taking care of the engagement party but there’s also the wedding.”
“Uh-huh.”
Joyce raised her eyebrows. “Is that a problem?”
“No, ma’am.”
It wasn’t that Courtney minded her mother remarrying. Maggie had been a widow for literally decades. It was long past time for her mom to find a great guy and settle down. Nope, it wasn’t the marriage that was the problem—it was the wedding. Or rather the wedding
planning
.
“You’re trying to get me into trouble,” she murmured.
“Who, me?” Joyce’s attempt to look innocent failed miserably.
Courtney rose. “All right, you crafty lady. I will do my best with both the party and the wedding.”
“I knew you would.”
Courtney bent down and kissed Joyce’s cheek, then straightened, turned and ran smack into Kelly Carzo—waitress and, until this second, a friend.
Kelly, a pretty, green-eyed redhead, tried to keep hold of the tray of coffee mugs she’d been carrying, but the force was too great. Mugs went flying, hot liquid rained down and in less than three seconds, Courtney, Joyce and Kelly were drenched, and the shattered remains of six mugs lay scattered on the floor.
The restaurant had been relatively quiet before. Now it went silent as everyone turned to stare. At least there were only a couple of other customers and a handful of staff. Not that word of her latest mishap wouldn’t spread.
Joyce stood and scooped Sarge out of harm’s way, then ordered Pearl to move back. “What is it your sister says in times like this?”
