Here to Stay (Where Love Begins Book #2) (12 page)

“So aren’t there grants they could apply for?” he asked now. At least he was kindly changing the subject.

“I guess the funding stream must’ve run dry.” Leaving Lucy and the other Hope House residents out in the cold.

Through her volunteering, she’d come to know all the inhabitants of the house. Five of the eight occupants had Down syndrome. The three others had varying developmental challenges. All of them had wriggled their way into her heart.

Fletcher with his impeccable manners, who never let her open a door herself.

Jillian, who always crocheted while Autumn read. She’d given Autumn a rainbow-colored scarf on her last birthday.

Brandon, the youngest of the group at eighteen. Autumn happened to be there the day his parents brought him to Hope House. She’d seen the fear on their faces—a fear Brandon hadn’t shared. He’d spotted the reading group right away and bounded over. When he saw the book they were reading—
The Magician’s
Nephew
—he’d clapped his hands and exclaimed that he’d already read it. Twice. But could he still read it with them?

And as he’d settled, as Lucy offered to share her copy with him, Autumn had seen his parents’ anxiety shift to comfort.

“They’re like a family here.” The sound of pop music filtered through the ceiling from the second floor. Probably Jessie’s. At thirty-five, she’d never outgrown her love of ’90s boy bands. “It kills me to think of how hard it’s going to be on all of them as they separate.”

“Maybe they can all get together once in a while.”

“Ooh, I could have them all out to the inn. And maybe somehow keep up our reading group online.”

But as soon as the words left her lips, a reminder of her own massive life change came zooming in. Even if all the Hope House residents were staying in the area . . . she wasn’t.

For once, the thought of leaving Whisper Shore pinched instead of hugged.

Lucy rounded the corner from the stairway then, ponytail bouncing behind her, CD in her hand. “Hiya. Jessie gave me a CD of Backstreet Boys. I told her I only listen to music on my iPod, but then I said—” Lucy broke off for a moment at the sight of Blake standing with Autumn, but only for a moment. “I said maybe Autumn has a CD player because she’s older than me.”

The case manager, Angela, chuckled as she passed by. “Feel free to head up to her room. Everything’s mostly packed.”

Autumn pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “Have you said all your good-byes?”

Lucy’s lips turned down. “Yes. Fletcher cried.”

Probably because the man had had a crush on Lucy from the day he moved in. It just wasn’t right—such a wonderful nonprofit closing its doors. What she wouldn’t give to throw a couple million dollars Hope House’s way, play benefactress instead of simple volunteer.

Why was money always such a hassle?

“Anyway, do you?”

She blinked, attention returning to Lucy, who waited for an answer to a question Autumn must have forgotten. “Do I what?”

Lucy’s giggles sprinkled over Autumn’s morose thoughts of moments ago. “Have a CD player, silly.”

“I do indeed. Come on, let’s go get your stuff. Do you remember Blake? You met him yesterday.”

Lucy nodded uncertainly. “Your boyfriend?”

Autumn choked, her gum lodging in her throat.

At her sputtering, Blake raised his eyebrows in a tease. “All right there, Red?”

She swallowed, gum knocking its way to her stomach. Coughed and then, “Blake is my friend, Lucy.”

Lucy nodded a second time, reluctance gone. “Okay. Let’s go.”

As they followed her up a staircase, Blake’s voice drifted over her shoulder. “Thought I might have to do the Heimlich there for a sec, Red.”

The skirt she wore over her leggings and boots swished over her knees. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? One more heroic act to hold over my head.”

“I don’t know why her question flustered you so much. That’s all.”

The guy was exasperating.

The guy was funny.

She’d have reached back to give him a punch, but that would mean touching him, and the walled stairway felt like close enough quarters as it was.
Dylan’s teasing never did this to me.

Probably best not to camp out on that thought too long.

At the top of the stairs, a wallpapered corridor was lined with doorways, and the sound of movement came from the openings. Something of a hush clung to the air. Moving day—not something to be celebrated in this instance.

They were halfway to Lucy’s room when Lucy stopped, concern sketching across her face at the muffled noise coming from the room in front of her. The door was halfway closed, revealing a handwritten name badge on the door that read
Fletcher
.

Lucy turned to Autumn. “He sounds sad.”

Frustration edged the groans and quick spurts of words coming from the room. “Can’t do it . . . not right . . . hate this.”

After glancing around and not seeing any staff or case managers, Autumn stepped forward to nudge open the door. “Hey, Fletch. Everything okay in here?”

He stood in the center of the room, a long striped bed sheet knotted in his arms. “Miss Kingsley!”

No mistaking the red circles around his eyes or the way his lower lip quivered even as he smiled.

“Hard day, huh.” Her words felt so inadequate for the pain Fletcher must feel. As for the sheet, had he been trying to fold it?

“Hey, buddy, can I help you with that?”

Autumn turned, surprised at Blake’s voice cutting in as he edged around her.

At first, Fletcher drew back, hesitation spelled out in rounded eyes and clamped lips. Blake
was
a stranger and his size seemed to dwarf Fletcher.

But then Blake glanced around the room, a slow smile spreading over his cheeks as his gaze targeted a poster on the wall. “Oh man, you’re a Ninja Turtles fan, too? I used to watch that every single Saturday.”

And just like that, Fletcher uncurled. “I watch it on DVD.”

“No way, really? I’m Blake, by the way.” He held out his hand, and Fletcher quickly dropped the sheet to stick his palm in Blake’s.

And something in her heart hiccupped at the sight of their handshake. At the way Blake reached for Fletcher’s sheet and offered to help him fold it. At his, “I’m no good at folding, either,” and the spark in Fletcher’s eyes that signaled his gratitude and trust.

“There’s nothing sexier than men doing laundry.”

Autumn whirled. “Lucy!”

Lucy shrugged innocently. “I heard Angela say it once.”

With a giggle Autumn moved to the doorway, glancing
behind her once more to see Blake moving on to the comforter piled at the foot of Fletcher’s bed.

Fine, so maybe Lucy—Angela, whoever—had a point.

Before she could reprimand herself for even thinking that, her phone blared from her pocket. She pulled it out.
The bank?
“Uh, gotta take this guys. Just a sec.”

She stepped out of the room, tapped her phone to answer the call.

And was still speechless when it ended a few minutes later.

“Everything okay?”

Blake stood in the doorway now, the sound of Lucy and Fletcher’s laughter drifting from behind him.

A choir of surprise and delight sang inside her. “That was the bank. They’re approving a short-term loan. It doesn’t . . . it doesn’t make sense.” She dropped her phone in her purse. “They said no the other day. A firm no, according to Grady.”

As if contagious, she saw her own happiness reflected on Blake’s face. “That’s awesome, Red. Don’t try to figure why it happened, just be happy it did. Now you can put me to work. After we get Lucy moved, that is. And after we celebrate, that is.”

“What? Oh no, I have way too much work to do. Especially now that there’s money to do it with.” Dominic Laurent would arrive before she knew it. But finally, hope that everything might work out didn’t feel so far out of reach. “Anyway, you’ve seen the state the inn is in.”

Blake folded his arms, the fabric of his cotton shirt pulling taut under his vest. “And I’ve seen the state you’re in. You need a break. Time to enjoy the thrill of winter in Whisper Shore.”

“Winter? We haven’t even seen a speck of snow yet.” She mimicked his crossed arms, leaning against the hallway wall. “Besides . . . thrill? In Whisper Shore?”

“They’re not mutually exclusive, believe it or not. You need to have a little fun.”

“I have plenty of fun in my life, thank you very much.”

He gave his doubt full exposure. “Really? What’d you do last Friday night?”

“None of your business.”

“None of my business because it was so scandalously fun you can’t tell me, or none of my business because it involved a book and a cup of tea?” He motioned raising a teacup, pinky up, on that last part.

Scary, really, how close he was. But no way was she letting him know that.

“Celebrate with me tonight, Red. And then it’s inn and festival business from here on out.” He ducked his head back into Fletcher’s room then. “Ready to start hauling your stuff, Luce?”

When he turned back to her, his dimpled grin was still in place. And she couldn’t help asking. “Why?”

“Because I think you, my dear, might be my open door.”

“Because I think you might be my open door?”

Blake said the words out loud for the dozenth time that day. And for the dozenth time, he pictured Autumn’s puzzled expression and felt his cheeks reheat. What kind of idiot said something like that to a girl? Especially one he had to, like, see again?

Blake rounded the Firebird—probably one of his last drives in the thing—and moved to the back of the car. In the distance, Lake Michigan lapped at the shore in the lazy shallows.

Thing is, even if he shouldn’t have said the thought out loud, he’d meant it.

“You don’
t have to see every open door on the way
to your end goal—just the one staring you in
the face.”

Ike’s words from that morning had played over and over in his head as he’d driven from the airport. Then Betsy had called and he’d found himself driving Autumn to Hope House. He’d filled her in on his progress with the festival on the way, and then they’d met up with Lucy and Autumn had gotten her news from the bank. . . .
Thank you
very much, Hilary’s brother.

And just like that, standing in the hallway of Hope House, the thought hit him. Maybe Autumn was his open door. This woman who had listened to him go on about the festival, had taken time out of her day to pick up Lucy, who was working herself to the bone trying to fix up her inn in time for some investor so she could save her family’s business and her employees’ jobs. Suddenly he wanted to just . . . be there for her. The way she was there for so many others, him included.

Finally, after driving back to the inn and unloading all Lucy’s things, he’d worn Autumn down and convinced her to take a couple hours off to celebrate her good news. Now he just hoped she actually showed up.

Blake’s feet sunk into the glinting sand of the dunes when he reached the trunk. He pulled it open and reached inside for his sand-board, along with two oversized
For Sale
signs he’d picked up at the hardware store. Perfect for what he had in mind.

Autumn was just pulling up in her Jetta when he closed the trunk. She emerged, wearing a pair of impractical boots and a lightweight coat, indicative of the unseasonably warm weather. She looked wary. And cute.

What were the chances she’d forgotten his awkward words earlier?

“Hey, Blake.”

“You came.”

She eyed the board under his arm. “I said I would. Besides, I kind of owe you, after all your help today.”

“You don’t owe me. You do, however, owe yourself. I can’t believe you’ve lived this close to the dunes all your life and have never done this.” He started plodding up the nearest hill. A gentle breeze raked through his hair, and the sunlight glimmered off the quartz in almost snow-white sand.

“I usually wait for snow to go sledding.” She fell into step beside him. “You should know, I’m not athletic. At all. I tried to go out for basketball in middle school, and Coach Harris told me I should try the debate club instead.”

Totally understandable.

“Couldn’t we go see a movie instead? That’s fun. You said you wanted me to have fun.”

“Nope. Clearly you’ve not experienced all our little coastline has to offer. And don’t worry, you’re not going to break any bones.”

Her footsteps behind him stopped and he turned. Wow, her face was almost white. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

He’d have laughed if she didn’t look so stricken. If his legs weren’t burning from the climb. Dude, it’d been too long since he’d had a good hike.

“There’s nothing to it. You’ll see.”

She gave a hesitant nod and finally started walking again. “Tell me something. How many times have you broken a bone in your life?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Tell me.”

“Privileged information.”

“All right, then, how many fires have you set?”

“What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?” He reached the top of the slope.

She shrugged as she caught up to him. “I need to know these things before I trust you to give me a snowboarding lesson.”