ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13) (42 page)

Chapter 2

Saturday night was a little busier, something that she was always thankful for. Weekend hikers would go up on Friday night and then come back to town Saturday, or else do the trail in the daytime and be back down here for the evening. That meant there was always a little swell in the number of customers coming for a drink, and the locals came to relax too. Besides Hank and Melvin, the hotel owners, a couple more people who worked in hiking stores, and most of the guides who weren’t up on the mountain came to sit at the tables in Flannigans.

It was almost starting to get full when she looked up and saw Branson at the bar. He must have come in when she was serving someone else, but she was so surprised to see him that she almost jumped. She rushed over to him quickly, full of questions.

“Branson, you stayed?” she asked, grabbing a glass to serve him.

“Yeah, I figured I would give it a few more days,” he said, smiling. He was dressed less like a hiker now – a dark green jumper and jeans, rather than the typical overnight gear. He looked good, even from the portion that she could see over the bar.

“You don’t have work until Monday?” she guessed, handing over the beer.

“Something like that,” he nodded. “I don’t know, I was thinking about staying maybe a little longer, if I can manage it.”

While she did have to wonder what on earth he saw in this boring little town, she was just happy to see him again. Her attention was called by someone at the other end of the bar and she had to go serve them, but now she knew he was here, she was in a rush to get back and talk again.

She managed to steal a few bits and pieces of conversation with him in between taking orders, finding out what he thought of the trail. He said he enjoyed it, and that it was just nice to be somewhere peaceful for a change. She asked where he was from, and he mentioned a big city a couple of hours’ drive away. Her eyes lit up with the thought of it. She dreamed of living somewhere so exciting.

Finally, the customers in the bar started to peel away, most of them either wanting to get a good night’s sleep or growing tired of drinking alone in an unfamiliar town. At last they were able to get some real conversation. For the last hour or so they talked almost uninterrupted, Branson telling her a few things about his city life and how different it was to here. She hung on his every word.

“You don’t know how much of a good thing you have here,” he concluded, looking around at the bar as if it represented the whole town.

“I don’t know about that,” she laughed. “It’s not such an exciting or glamorous place to live.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s the point,” he said. “There’s no pressure here. You can just enjoy the quiet. That’s what I like.”

“Try living here for twenty years and then let me know if you still love it,” she said wryly.

He chuckled. “Fair point. I guess I can see how it could get a little boring after a while.”

“More than boring,” she argued, shaking her head. “Dull. Lifeless. I’m trapped here like I’m in a cage. There’s never anything to do, never anything new going on. It’s just the hiking season one day after another, with no escape.”

He gave a low whistle. “You hate it here that much, huh?”

She sighed, and shrugged. “I just always thought I would find some way out. Go somewhere, be something. I didn’t figure I’d be back here after school and working in the one old bar that’s been here since I was a kid.”

“You’re still young,” he said reassuringly. “You have a whole future ahead of you. Just give it a little more time. I’m sure things will work out.”

“I guess I don’t have a whole lot of choice,” she replied.

“Don’t worry, Syd,” he said. “Change is always just around the corner, waiting. You just have to walk over there and get it.”

She laughed. It sounded a little like a motivational speech. “You should talk for a living,” she said, shaking her head.

He laughed too, but it was accompanied by the sound of empty glasses hitting the bar. Some of the regulars were heading out, and Sydney realized belatedly that it was closing time again. She started to clear up a little, recognizing that however much fun she was having, she still needed to do her job.

He waited a moment before leaving, hands in his pockets as he stood by the door while she moved chairs and tidied up. “Hey, I was wondering if you had anything by that band you were talking about before?” he asked.

“Oh, the ones from the next town? Sure, I have one of their demo CDs,” she said, opening the cash register so she wouldn’t be late cashing up.

“Do you think I could borrow it?” he asked. “You have great taste in music, so I’d like to give them a try.”

She nodded. “Of course! I have to lock up here, though.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “That is, if it isn’t too weird for the new guy in town to walk you home and get a CD off you.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Just let me finish up here.”

The night air was cool, but not chilly, allowing them to walk in comfort. It was strange to find herself next to him instead of leaning over the bar, serving him. They talked quietly for the short distance back to her place, him carrying a coat in one hand and her clutching her handbag. When they arrived at her house he was a gentleman and waited outside while she fetched the CD.

“You live with your parents still?” he asked as she met him outside again.

She blushed. “Yeah, my Dad. It didn’t seem like there was any point in wasting money on rent if we’re living in the same street anyway.”

“I’m not judging,” he said quickly. “It makes perfect sense. Sometimes I wish I lived with my parents for longer. I was eighteen when I left. It might have been nice to have some support for a little longer.”

“You didn’t go back after college?” she guessed.

“Something like that,” he replied, evasively, but she shrugged it off. His business was his business.

“Well, I hope you like the CD. Let me know what you think,” she said, handing it over.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s a good job the hotel hasn’t updated since the nineties, or I wouldn’t have anywhere to play it.”

“You didn’t bring your car?” she asked.

“No,” he shrugged. That was normal enough. Plenty of hikers would catch the bus in to the far end of town so that they didn’t have to worry about parking or storing their cars while they were on the mountain.

Over the next couple of days they spoke every night, laughing away the hours of the evening over a couple of drinks. They talked about anything and everything, with no restrictions. Sydney found herself recounting her full life story, and Branson told her about how much he liked the music on the CD. He returned it to her on Sunday night, saying he was going to have to get a copy for himself.

By the time Monday came around, Sydney was feeling excited to see him again, hardly able to wait for her shift to start. She only opened Flannigans at 4pm, enough time to set everything up and accept the hikers who checked in for 3.30pm at the hotel, before the regulars started to arrive after work. Heading behind the bar every day was a bore, not having any time off to enjoy herself, but she needed the money if she was ever going to get out of this town. Besides, it was no longer a hardship. She had Branson to look forward to.

She found herself dressing up and paying careful attention to her make-up, changing something three or four times before she finally considered herself decent enough to leave the house. She had never wanted to spend so much time getting ready for work before. She wanted to look her best for Branson. He was handsome, funny, strong – and not from around here. For the moment, she was trying not to think about what would happen when he left.

They were enjoying a quiet talk in the almost empty bar when a faint ringing sound began. Branson groaned and started digging around in his coat pocket, fishing out an odd-looking phone which was emitting the noise. He gave Sydney an apologetic look, got down from his chair, and answered the call while walking towards the door.

“Hi. Yeah. Seriously? … So you need me back now?” he sighed, pausing before he had even made it outside. “It can’t wait a couple more days? … Fine. Fine, I’ll leave in half an hour. I just need to settle up with my room. See you then.”

He shut off the phone and stood still for a moment, running a hand back through his well-kept hair. Finally, he turned and headed back to the bar, giving her a sorry expression.

“That was work,” he said.

She nodded, her mouth dry. “You have to get back,” she said, a little too quickly, her voice sounding a little too strained.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve really had a good time here. I wanted to stay a little longer.”

“Don’t apologize on my account,” she said, though she felt a burning sensation in the back of her throat. She didn’t want him to go.

“I’m serious,” he said, and sighed, moving closer and leaning over the bar so that only she could hear him. “I want you to know that I stayed a little longer because I enjoyed spending time with you. I really wish we had more time to get to know each other better.”

She nodded, looking down, surprised to find that she was having to blink back tears. “We could email,” she said. It was only her rational mind that held her back from screaming at him to take her when he left.

“Of course,” he said, grabbing a paper napkin from the bar and pulling a pen out of one of his coat pockets. “Write your address down for me.”

She wrote it quickly, the soft material threatening to tear under the point of the pen. “It would be nice to hear from you again,” she said, handing it over.

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me,” he promised. He hesitated for a moment, and then, looking like he had decided to throw caution to the wind, he leaned further over the bar quickly to plant a kiss on her cheek.

He pulled back, but she reached out for his shirt collar and drew him back. She kissed him on the lips, and though it was brief, they both felt the spark that lingered between them.

For a second he looked pained, as though he could not decide what to do, but finally he grabbed up his coat and waved the napkin in the air. “I’ll email,” he promised again, heading out the door.

She wiped her eyes on another napkin, sniffing and trying not to lose it. It was stupid, to be upset about someone you had only known for a few days. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been special. How many other people had she made a real connection with since she started working at this bar? How many people had she connected like that with in her whole life?

It was around 15 minutes later that she, along with Hank who was sitting in the corner on his own, heard the sound of a helicopter outside. They both glanced at each other, then rushed to the door. A helicopter usually meant that someone had run into trouble on the mountain. She thought of her father and whispered a quick prayer that it was not for him.

The helicopter that had landed out at the end of the road was not a medical or rescue copter, however. It was sleek black, expensive-looking, and emblazoned with a name on the side – “Raine Industries”. Sydney stared as a small group of people descended from one of the doors – two men in business suits and a woman in a sharp black skirt and stilettos.

“Mr Raine!” the woman shouted, waving a tablet in the air in the direction of the hotel. Sydney turned to see Branson heading towards them, smartened up in a suit of his own and carrying his rucksack. He nodded a greeting and met the group before the end of the road, starting to quietly confer with them.

“That his helicopter?” Hank asked in surprise.

Sydney could only shake her head in shock. “I… I don’t know,” she said, watching him move towards it. He had taken the tablet and started tapping on it as he moved, while the three people talked rapidly to him. He nodded occasionally, handing the rucksack to one of the men who quickly carried it on board the helicopter. Before a couple of minutes were up they were all loaded in, and the rotors whirred into life again. Then it was lifting up into the air and gone, all before Sydney could gather the presence of mind to close her gaping mouth.

Chapter 3

Sydney was stunned. She could barely understand what she had seen. Shouting over her shoulder to Hank to watch the bar, she did the only thing she could think of – she headed into the hotel to talk to Marge, the elderly receptionist who took care of all of the guests on weekdays.

“Marge, who was that who just left?” she asked quickly, barely stopping to catch her breath.

Marge looked up at her in surprise. “Oh, dear, that was one of our guests,” she said slowly, not quite comprehending the question.

“Yes, but what was his name?” Sydney demanded impatiently.

“Oh, I believe it was… let me check in the guest book now… yes, here it is: Branson Raine,” Marge replied.

Sydney stared at her, unsure of what to make of this piece of information. So the helicopter was, almost undeniably, his own. But just who the hell could he be, to have a helicopter sweep in and pick him up like that? She walked back to Flannigans half in shock, shaking her head over and over in confusion.

“Well?” Hank asked as she came back into the bar. He had been waiting for her, clearly excited about the latest gossip.

“I… I still don’t know,” Sydney stammered, making her way behind the counter. “Marge says his name is Branson Raine.”

“Same as on the helicopter,” Hank pronounced with satisfaction.

Sydney nodded, sinking down onto a chair to try to process what was going on. The rest of the evening dragged on, interminably slow. She could not wait to get out and head home, and try to find out exactly who she had been falling for this whole weekend.

When she was finally at home, she grabbed her laptop without so much as greeting her father and started searching. It did not take long. Just typing in his name brought up pages and pages of results. She felt stupid, utterly stupid. Maybe if she was from the city she might have recognized him. It seemed that Branson Raine was in fact a businessman, and a good one at that – even though he was just twenty-eight, he was a billionaire. It seemed he had been making the papers consistently over the past few years due to his success and his age – and his good looks.

She felt sick as she scrolled through the image results. There were photographs of him at charity events and business balls, often on the arm of a glamorous model type. He wore suits worth hundreds of dollars and drove supercars. Who was this man? This was not the person she had been talking to for the past few days. This was not the man she had just kissed.

She felt betrayed. She remembered all of the things she had told him about her life, her feelings. How he must have been laughing at her once he got back to the hotel! He never once revealed anything about himself, about his real life. He had let her believe he was just a normal guy who had taken some time off work to go hiking. How could he have kept all of this quiet from her?

Her conflicting feelings threatened to almost overwhelm her. Everything had been a lie. How could she have felt a connection with someone that she knew absolutely nothing about? She fell asleep in front of the screen, tears streaked down her cheeks.

The next morning, groggily waking up and looking at the laptop, she realized there was a new email blinking in her inbox. She opened it without thinking, then almost dropped the laptop with a gasp. It was from him. She read it three times over, trying to sort out everything from the day before in her head.

Hey Syd,

Sorry again that I had to rush off. Sometimes work just won’t wait. I would love to see you again. Can you get time off this weekend?

B

That was it. Nothing else. No indication that he was anyone other than a simple hiker. No acknowledgement of what she had just seen. And he must have known – must have noticed her standing in the street and staring as he flew away.

She didn’t reply for two days. At first she was hurt, then angry. What was she, a plaything to him? Someone whose mind he could mess with for a fun weekend away? Finally she settled back to confusion again. At last she sat down, ready to write a reply.

Branson,

Why didn’t you tell me?

Syd

Even after the two-day gap, his reply was quick. It was like he had been waiting for her to say something. She wondered briefly if he had even written the email himself, or asked some stiletto-heeled assistant to do it for him.

Hey Syd,

I’m sorry. I wanted to get to know you first. It’s not easy to connect with people when they know you have money. I didn’t want to be Mr Raine for a few days. I just wanted you to meet the real me.

B

She didn’t know what to say. Half of her – maybe more than half of her – wanted to forgive him. But she was still hurt. Somehow it all meant less if he was a billionaire. A starving artist or a regular Joe really had to make a financial decision to take time off work, had to weigh up their life choices before deciding to spend time with her instead. Branson had an army of people at his beck and call to take care of things, and if he lost a few thousand dollars or so, so what?

She tried to concentrate on work. At least if she made enough money to get out of here, she could move somewhere new and forget about the whole experience. It had unsettled her, and broken her routine. Worst of all was the fact that it had made her feel, just for a little while, like she had finally found her moment to be something more.

She ignored her emails for the rest of the week, and came to work on Saturday just like normal. She was surprised to find, however, that Melvin was behind the bar.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I got a call to cover your shift,” he said, shrugging. “Apparently you have the night off.”

“But I didn’t want the night off,” she protested.

“Well, someone wanted you to have it,” he said, nodding towards the door. She turned, and heard it too: the sound of helicopter blades. She could barely decide what to do with herself all of a sudden. Run? Hide? Go out there and confront him? Check to see if it really was him and not just a rescue?

The door of the bar opened before she had a chance to make her mind up, and then it was made up for her. Branson stepped inside, dressed again in a casual green shirt and jeans. Looking at him now, she suddenly noticed how everything he wore was so well-tailored, like it had been made just for him. Even his hiking jacket had probably been designer. How could she have been so stupid?

“Syd,” he said, gently, putting his hands up in front of himself in a calming gesture. “I just want to talk. I don’t feel like we left things the right way.”

She nodded, her head feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton wool, and sat down at the nearest table. That was about as far as her legs would carry her anyway.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, sitting opposite her with a worried look.

“Yes,” she admitted. She could barely breathe enough to say it.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “It was thoughtless of me. I know I was being selfish. The whole of last weekend was an exercise in selfishness. That was how it was meant to be at the start, and I didn’t take you into consideration when I carried on pretending.”

“Why?” she asked after a moment. Even after reading his email, she still wanted to know. She needed to hear it in his words.

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I just felt trapped,” he said. The way his voice sounded, she knew he was telling the truth. “It’s a wonderful life I lead, I know it is. And I’ve worked hard for it. But that’s part of the problem. I wanted to get away from all the pressure, just for a couple of days. More than that – I wanted to get away from being me. When people talk to me, I never know if they are actually being genuine or not. Are they talking to me, or the money? Do they really want to be friends, or do they have a business deal they want me to back? It sounds stupid, but I thought if I just didn’t mention it, we’d have a real conversation. One that wasn’t influenced by who I am. I wasn’t really thinking ahead. I didn’t even expect you to find out who I really am, until the satellite phone went off.”

She stared at her hands. She understood everything he was saying. She did not want to forgive him, not yet. But there was something she could empathize with in his dilemma. “And now?” she asked.

“Well, now you know who I am. And I know I hurt you,” he reached for her hand, tapping it gently before pulling away almost guiltily. “I know you probably don’t trust me anymore. And that’s fine. But I’d like to see if we can still be friends.”

Sydney hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. Sighing it out heavily, she felt all of the parts of her body realigning themselves, becoming less defensive. “I think we’re going to need some drinks,” she said, nodding.

He grinned, and leapt up like an excited puppy, rushing to the bar. Sydney picked at one of her nails, still a little conflicted. The depth of anger and hurt she had felt would take a while to fade. In the meantime, though, she could understand that forgiving him was possible.

They started to talk again, like before, but this time Branson was actually able to talk about his life and the things that came with it. He told her about women who had slept with him just to get their hands on his money, and the ways they had betrayed him, even after spending months together. He explained the way a best friend from high school had reconnected with him after ten years, only to start hassling him for money to support his start-up business. The more he talked, the more she understood him.

The beer loosened her tongue, and she started to talk too. She told him about the people from high school who had made it out to go and do something with their lives, even if it was only to work in a different town. She told him about the girls from the next town over who had ended up getting married and pregnant already, and how she was afraid of wasting her life in the middle of nowhere. After the third glass he was no longer afraid to put his hand on top of hers, and by the fourth they were touching constantly, casually. It happened so naturally and so gradually that Sydney barely even noticed how it built up, even when his touch warmed her skin and made her feel somehow safe.

Finally, it came time for last orders, and Melvin was a little more diligent with timekeeping than she had been the weekend before. Reluctantly they both stood up to leave, Sydney wobbling slightly and grabbing Branson’s shoulder for support as she found her feet.

“You’re flying back now?” she asked, a little sadly.

“No, it’s a little late,” he said. “I’m going to get a room at the hotel again.”

“Alright,” she said, “Well, I’ll walk you over there and argue with Marge for you.”

For some reason, though, Marge just gave them a knowing look and charged him an extra half again on the room, for the late check-in fee. It was late; she was probably about to finish her shift, and had no interest in arguing with a difficult customer.

“Why don’t you walk up to the door with me?” Branson suggested, and that was reasonable enough, so she did.

“I’m so drunk,” she said when they reached the door. “Maybe I should come in and have a cup of coffee before I go home.”

“Water is best,” he said, unlocking the door and letting her in.

After she had drunk two glasses of water, there was no longer any reason to pretend. She leaned over and kissed him, and like a flood released from a dam, he gratefully kissed her back. Before she even knew what she was doing she started unbuttoning his shirt, and then he reached over to lift hers over her head. His chest was smooth and muscled, the body of someone who had both the time and the money to work out every day. She knew hers was only average, but when her bra fell to the floor he kissed and caressed her breasts as though they were the first he had ever seen.

She pressed her whole body against his as they kissed again, wrapping her arms around his head and twining them through his hair. He was so warm to the touch, heating her from head to toe with a soft glow that made her feel luxurious. She wished there was a way to get even closer to him, to have him on every single inch of her skin at once. He gently picked her up and laid her down on the bed, and they made love with a euphoric emptiness of everything that had troubled them before. Their problems and fears, all confessed, littered the floor with their clothes. For the rest of that night, there was only the heat of togetherness, and then the bliss of afterglow, followed by a deep and satisfying sleep.