The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk) (9 page)

Shit.

He’d fucked up. He must have sounded too harsh. “Doc, you obviously feel compassion for the woman.”

“You disagree with me, though.”

“Yeah, but compassion is not a turnoff.” He grinned.

Flirting with her didn’t work. She gave him another weak smile. “I really should go.”

Annoyed by her retreat but determined to prove to her he wasn’t some unforgiving asshole, Cooper touched her arm again. “I was hoping you’d be free Tuesday night to grab some dinner with me.”

Jessica gave him a pinched smile as she moved away from his touch. As she pulled open his office door she said, “I can’t. I have other plans.”

Before he could say anything to change her mind, the doc was gone.

And Cooper was confused as hell.

If Jessica Huntington hadn’t known Sarah Randall, why did she feel strongly enough to be pissed off at him for not . . . what exactly? He knew her crime wasn’t completely black-and-white, but still . . .

Yesterday Jess was interested in him. He could tell. She’d felt the connection that pulled at him.

Now she was retreating over a few letters written by a woman she didn’t even know.

What the hell was that all about?

The sun spilled out over the water and the sand, transforming the boardwalk from a soothing gray to a vibrant scene. It also brought out dog walkers and sunbathers. High season hadn’t quite hit, but tourists were starting to appear.

I sat on the balcony outside my room staring out over the ocean. The sea breeze moved through my hair and I reveled in the peace.

Seriously . . . I’d had no idea how much I was missing a sense of serenity in my life. I’d never have absolute peace, yet I was soothed by the knowledge that few people ever would. But back in Wilmington I never had anything like these quiet moments, these little ocean drops of contentment. I honestly hadn’t even known it was a possibility for me. Maybe because I hadn’t been actively seeking it for fear I’d find something more ominous in the quiet.

After Cooper’s disappointing reaction to the revelations from Sarah’s letters I found myself enjoying the peace more than ever. His lack of compassion had cast a pall over my attachment to the boardwalk town and I wanted to be like the sun and blast the grayness out.

It was difficult and I couldn’t work out why. Why was I so disappointed and affected by his grim dismissal of Sarah’s complicated situation? I barely knew the man!

My phone rang, pulling me from my frustration. It was Fatima.

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I said in greeting as I wandered back into my room, closing the balcony doors behind me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation? You sound depressed. What’s up with that?”

I made a face. I even
sounded
depressed? Well, that was just wrong. “I’m fine,” I chirped.

“That was so fake my teeth hurt.”

“Your teeth hurt?”

“Yeah. Like too much sugar in fake frosting.”

“Okay, strange lady, what can I do for you?”

“I was just checking in to see how the vacation was going, but I can tell it’s going well. Not.”

Sighing, I flopped down on the bed. “It
was
going well. I really like it here. It’s peaceful. Pretty. The people are nice.”

“So what happened?”

With another heavy sigh I found myself telling her about Cooper and his reaction to the letters.

Fatima huffed, “So her cousin’s son who never knew her doesn’t give a shit. Does that mean you let that ruin your whole vacation? Remember you’re there for you, not Sarah. So quit moping around and enjoy the fact that you’re not working in a place with too many bitches.”

“You know I hate that word.” I scowled.

“I know,” she said, amusement in her voice. “That’s why I said it.”

“Despite using that derogatory term,” I said, all uppity because I really did hate that word, “you’re right. I’m on vacation. I’m going to enjoy it. And that means getting off the phone with you so I can get dressed for the day.”

“Nice talking to you, too,” she said with no small amount of snark.

I grinned. “Are you and Derek well?”

“Yeah, Jess, we’re well. Now go va . . . cate? No, that isn’t right.”

I chuckled. “We’ll talk later. ’Bye.”

Once we’d ended the call, I threw my shoulders back with renewed determination. Fatima was right! I was on holiday. I needed
to remember that, forget about Cooper, and enjoy the break away from the real world.

Bailey was nowhere to be seen at breakfast and a waitress named Natasha told me that it was the owner’s day off. I’d smiled. Good. I was glad my new friend had decided to take a day off after all.

I was going to spend the day walking around Hartwell and getting to know it better. Strolling out of the inn, I slipped on my sunglasses and enjoyed the gentle heat on my skin as I walked down the porch stairs. Hitting the bottom step, I smiled in surprise when I saw Bailey striding through the front gate toward me.

“There you are,” she said with a big grin. “I was worried I wouldn’t catch you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Screw it, I said to myself this morning, I’m taking a day off. No one is checking in or out today, there are kitchen staff, waitstaff, and cleaning staff in and out all day if a guest needs something, and I have my phone on me if I’m needed.”

“Good for you.”

“So I thought we could hang out.”

My day was looking up. “I’d love that.”

“Great.” Bailey started leading me out onto the boardwalk. “I cannot tell you how much I treasure my day off.”

“You haven’t found anyone to cover the management job yet?”

“I’m sort of picky.” She shrugged. “I have to feel something from someone . . . you know, like, I can trust them.”

“Sure.” I spotted Hart’s Gift Shop and noted it was still closed. “Damn. Will that shop open soon? I really like the stuff in the window display and there’s a doll I want to get my goddaughter.”

“Dahlia’s?” Bailey smiled. “Sure. She’s on vacation, but she’ll be back soon.”

“You know her well?”

“Of course. She’s one of my best buds.”

“Wow. That must be nice. Working so close to your friend.”

“It is. Dahlia is a great person. She makes and sells her own jewelry. I’m sure you’ll love it.” She touched the silver necklace she wore. It had a long thin chain and the pendant was a beautiful silver cherry blossom tree. “She made this. My dad calls me Cherry,” she explained with a smile and I read the love for her friend in that smile. If I were to go by the craftsmanship and detail put into that little tree I’d say Dahlia loved Bailey.

“It’s beautiful.” I felt a wistfulness come over me. I didn’t have anything like a best girlfriend in my life. Matthew and I were close, but he lived so far away. Fatima was also a good friend but not the hang-out-on-the-weekends or share-deep-dark-secrets kind of friend.

“You okay?” Bailey frowned at me.

“I’m fine,” I assured her with a grin. “Where are we off to?”

“Well, I was thinking we could walk around and then— Oof! Jesus Christ!” Bailey stumbled back when a guy came barreling out from an alley between buildings and straight into her. He caught her, steadying her, and I watched as recognition lit both their faces.

He immediately let go of her and she glared up at him. “Tremaine,” she sneered.

He smirked. “Miss Hartwell.”

For a moment they just stared at one another, animosity pouring off Bailey. It was so the opposite of the version of Bailey I’d been getting to know that I was immediately taken aback and then intrigued to discover who the man was. I studied him as he stared back at Bailey in amusement. I raised an eyebrow as I finally got a clearer picture of him.

Tall, with a swimmer’s build, he wore an exquisitely tailored black suit and black shirt. His jet-black hair was thick and cut well, the dark color in contrast to his startling pale gray eyes. He swung those eyes to me and I found myself snared in them. They were rimmed with thick black lashes that only emphasized how pale they were.

Mr. Beautiful held out a hand to me. “I’m Vaughn Tremaine. I own Paradise Sands Hotel.”

Ah. Bailey’s competition. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jessica. One of Bailey’s guests.”

“
Dr.
Jessica Huntington,” Bailey put in smugly.

He just smiled at her pointed comment, albeit with a wolfish, predatory smile that dipped to her mouth and stayed there. “And here you said I would kill your business, Miss Hartwell. Yet a doctor chose your establishment over mine.”

“Well, she has taste,” Bailey said, grabbing my arm. “Now, we’ll be leaving before you storm into me deliberately again.”

“It was an accident,” he said lazily as she started to pull me away from him. “It’s not my fault you’re always in my way. Enjoy your stay in Hartwell, Dr. Huntington.”

“Pfft!” She tugged me forward and I had to quicken my steps to keep up with her.

“Well, there’s a story there,” I said, thinking about how the air had snapped and crackled around the two of them. “Ex-lover?”

“What?” she screeched, drawing to a complete halt on the boardwalk by the bandstand. There was horror in her pretty green eyes. “What would make you say that?”

“Sexual tension,” I answered honestly.

The horror in her gaze multiplied. “Sexual . . . wha . . . pfft . . . huh!” she sputtered. “No! There is no sexual tension between us. Just pure dislike.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t believe me?” She pointed to Paradise Sands. “That monstrosity was a deliberate attempt to undermine my business.”

“Wasn’t it a hotel before Vaughn bought it?”

“Yeah, but a crappy one. Vaughn’s place is affordable luxury.”

“Has it affected your business?”

Bailey shrugged and turned toward the water. She leaned her elbows on the railing and stared out at the beach. “No. But that doesn’t mean he cared whether it would or not. And what is he even
doing here?” She glanced at me, frustration mingling with curiosity in her eyes. “He’s this big fancy New Yorker, born and bred in Manhattan. Comes from big money, owns numerous hotels, and he decides to take up residence in the hotel in little Hartwell, Delaware? You don’t find that suspect?”

I leaned on the railing beside her. “You don’t think Hartwell has its charms?”

“Of course I do.” She grew serious. “But not to someone like him. Vaughn Tremaine treats me like an uncultured country bumpkin, like I’m less of a person because I’m a townie who lacks ambition. I admire people like you, Jessica. You’ve worked for a long time and worked hard to become a doctor. But I never wanted a fancy education or to live anywhere but here. For me this is all I’ve ever wanted.” She gestured to the sea. “I believe it’s the simple things in life that make it great. My inn. My ocean. My family. My friends. I don’t appreciate someone telling me that all the things I admire the most about my life are things to be sneered at as simple and folksy.”

I nodded, understanding now. I’d be mad at Vaughn Tremaine, too, if he’d made me feel that way about my life. Gazing out at the water, I found myself envious of Bailey. All the things she thought made her life special were the things I didn’t have.

“I just don’t get why the smug bastard wants to be here. Why stay somewhere when he so obviously finds it provincial? He won’t tell anyone. And I don’t like it.”

I grinned at her. “He didn’t seem so bad.”

“Oh, don’t be fooled by his suave, cultured manners. That there is a wolf in Armani.”

Funny, his expression had struck me as wolfish, too. “Maybe you’re right,” I murmured.

“He’s worming his way in. I think he may even have Cooper softening up to him. Asshole.”

I laughed.

“Speaking of Cooper, how did it go? With Sarah’s letters?”

That pall from earlier threatened to return. “It didn’t, really. He
said the family had already guessed Sarah was being abused and they tried to help. He said she had choices and she made the wrong choice. I didn’t find him very compassionate. At all.” I shrugged sadly.

And that was just so crappy because even without realizing it I’d built him up in my head to be this . . . I don’t know . . . someone I had really liked a lot from our one encounter. I hated that the second time around he wasn’t who I’d hoped he’d be.

“You sound disappointed.”

“I don’t know the guy, so I wasn’t expecting a reaction either way,” I lied nonchalantly.

“But you didn’t expect him to be so black-and-white about things.”

No, I really hadn’t.

Bailey contemplated me. “Let me buy you an ice cream cone and I’ll explain a few things.”

“An ice cream cone?” I grinned. I hadn’t had an ice cream cone in years.

“From Antonio’s.” She pointed down the boardwalk to the Italian pizzeria that stood next to Paradise Sands Hotel. “But there’s no Antonio—it’s owned by a couple named Iris and Ira.”

Antonio’s décor was very 1950s diner, with black-and-white-check flooring, red leather booths, and high round black tables with red-leather-topped chrome stools. Every inch of the white walls was covered with black-and-white photographs of Hollywood stars and musicians. All the frames were red or black. It was sleek and it sparkled, it was so clean.

The restaurant itself wasn’t so busy at that time of day, but the ice cream counter had a small line of people at it.

A man with a full head of dark gray hair, a beaming white smile, and a stocky build was manning the counter. He cheerily scooped up ice cream for his customers and as soon as Bailey and I stepped up to the counter that smile went full wattage.

“Sweetheart!” he boomed, lifting the countertop to come out and hug Bailey. “Iris!” he yelled in Bailey’s ear, making her flinch
and then giggle like a little girl. “Bailey girl is here!” He turned back to her. “How are you doing? Cooper says you’re run off your feet at the inn. That you need some help. Remember Kevan? Iris’s nephew’s son? He’s in Hartwell. He needs work.”

“She’s not hiring Kevan.” A small, trim woman wearing jeans and a plaid shirt appeared. Her gray hair was cut into a perfect bob that swung as she moved in to hug Bailey. “He’s a buffoon.”

Bailey laughed. “Yeah, I need less buffoon in my life.”

“Who else is a buffoon? Tom?” The woman frowned.

Bailey gave her a look. “No, Iris, not Tom.”

Iris harrumphed at that before turning to me. I wondered what her problem with Bailey’s boyfriend was. “Who’s this?”