The McCullagh Inn in Maine (5 page)

The second Jeremy
parked behind my car, I was opening the door, hopping down, and heading for the inn. I'd been too close to him for too long, and I needed space to breathe. I inserted the key into the lock with steady hands and slipped inside my sanctuary. I pushed the door shut behind me with my hip but collided with something hard. I bounced off it with a soft
oof
. This was a lovely sense of déjà vu. “What the—?”

“I want to look the place over,” Jeremy said quickly, sliding inside uninvited…
again
. “After all, your brother was just attacked.”

“And what will you do if you find someone?” I asked incredulously, unable to believe how incredibly hard it was for him to get the damn message. It was exhausting trying to constantly push him away—and I was all out of energy. “You're an accountant. You gonna throw a calculator at him?”

“No.” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “How did you know I was a CPA?”

Well, shit. I'd as good as admitted to looking him up online. I hadn't meant to be so transparent, but after Paul's attack, I was a little off my game. “Paul mentioned it once, I think. Or maybe it was Dad.”

He lifted a brow. “You visited him in jail?”

Nope
. Dad got locked up with a six-year sentence for breaking and entering. If he was lucky, he'd be out next year. But given his history, his freedom wouldn't last long. “What exactly are you going to do if you find someone?”

“Just because I'm an accountant doesn't mean I'm weak.” He shot me a hard look. “Don't make the mistake of thinking I am.”

I held my hands up defensively. “I'd never
dare
.”

Brushing past me, he glanced in the living room. “Damn. Did someone break in here and steal your walls?”

“Yes. They absolutely did,” I said dryly, following him. “There's a real market for old wood paneling on eBay these days.”

He snorted and moved into the kitchen, stepping over fallen paneling and nails. I'd have to clean it up at some point, but I wouldn't tonight. I was too tired. “Wow. I didn't know brown vinyl floors were back in.”

I clenched my teeth. “Spare me your sarcastic comments. I know the inn needs a lot of work. Like I said yesterday,
I'm busy
. I wasn't making that up.”

He glanced over his shoulder, saying nothing at all—and yet somehow saying everything at the same time. As he moved into the pantry, glancing at the bare shelves, he flicked the light on in the kitchen. It flickered, then turned fully on with a pop. “Electrical issues. Probably old knob-and-tube wiring. It'll all have to be updated to pass inspection.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

He grabbed a pillow off the couch on the way, holding it in front of himself like a shield and shooting me a charming grin. “I'll bring this in case anyone attacks. You know how to do wiring?” he asked, heading to the stairs.

I rolled my eyes. “Nope.”

“I do,” he called over his shoulder.

“Congrats?” I followed him up the stairs, trying not to stare at his butt. I failed, with a capital
F
. “Want a cookie?”

“Sure. I love cookies.” He rounded the corner. “I did the wiring at Dad's place, you know. I learned a few tricks fixing up his old place before he sold it.”

“How is he?”

“Dead.” He flicked on the hallway light, glancing at me briefly. Shadows covered his eyes—or was it the pain from his loss? “Died two years ago. Mom shortly after.”

Well, damn. I hadn't seen that on his Facebook page. Despite his parents' feelings about me, they'd been good people. They never knew about my private entrance—Jeremy's window—but they'd invited me to dinner more often than not. Jeremy wasn't allowed near my place, but I preferred his house anyway. His mother always had fresh-baked goodies on the counter, like Betty Crocker. If Betty could also shoot a deer with a rifle at a hundred yards. Mrs. Holland had been a woman of many talents. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“I miss them every day,” he said simply. He opened the next door, glancing into the Blue Room. Or the room that would be blue, anyway, once I was done with it. Right now, it was covered in faded, peeling floral wallpaper. “You need to paint in here. Maybe something pale. Like…light blue, since it faces the ocean. That would remind your guests of the nearby beach.”

I stiffened, my heart picking up speed. We used to joke that we shared a brain, because we always came up with the same ideas at the same time. Years apart and yet it was like no time had passed at all. I gestured to the cans of blue paint in the corner of the room. “That's the plan.”

We studied each other. Our connection hadn't died, no matter the distance between us. It would be so easy to fall back into “us,” to resume our relationship as if nothing had changed, but I couldn't. I needed to focus on the inn, on making it the warm and welcoming place I knew it would be—not on Jeremy.

He went through all the rooms, stopping when he reached mine. Slowly, he pushed the door open, turning the light on. He strode in, glancing under the bed for hidden monsters, the way he had in all the other rooms. My monsters didn't hide under beds. I leaned on the wall, watching him check my closet. Having him here was…nice. All the more reason to make him go.

As he walked away from my closet, he tossed the pillow on my bed. “I could stay here. Help you fix the place up. I'm handy.”

“No, thanks,” I said, shutting that idea down immediately, mostly because it made my heart soar and my legs go a little weak. The idea of having Jeremy under the same roof as me, helping me transform this place…it wasn't exactly a
bad
one. “I don't take charity.”

He flexed his jaw. “It's not charity. I'm paying an arm and a leg to stay at that cheap-ass motel because it's the only lodging in town. Fixing up the inn gives people like me options. This place is much nicer, and you can play the whole ‘short walk to the beach' angle that the motel could never claim. It's the perfect small-town getaway. You could host honeymooners—any couple, really, looking for a romantic weekend. Maybe even weddings.”

“That's the plan,” I repeated. “You think I didn't think of that?”

“I know you did. But the thing is, being here, looking at the rooms?” He smiled, locking eyes with me. “I can
feel
it. I can feel the things this place could be, what it could offer people. And, damn it, Chels, I want to be a part of it. I want to help you rebuild.”

I didn't say anything. Mostly, because all I could think of saying was
yes
. But I couldn't. He'd suck me back into his world of goodness and I wasn't naïve enough to think that world existed anymore.

“Let me help you open this place up sooner. I'll be in town for a week, so let me lend you a hand while I still can.” He gestured toward the hallway, walking across the room. My bedroom felt a million times smaller with him in it. I stared at him as he crept closer, one step at a time. When he was directly in front of me, I crossed my arms in front of me defensively. “I think it's really special what you're doing here, rebuilding the inn. Let me be a part of it. Of you.” He blinked. “That came out wrong. I meant…screw it.”

And then, without warning, he cupped my cheek. Before I could exhale, he was kissing me, and I was clinging to him, and his hands were everywhere. I couldn't think of any other place I'd want Jeremy to be than
here.
I wanted him with me, fixing up the inn, building a future that was so real that I could feel it, too. He slid his hand up my shirt, cupping my breast, and claimed my mouth with no mercy and no hint of hesitation.

He just…took.

And I gave.
Willingly
.

Arching my back, I dug my nails into his shoulders, letting out a soft moan. His phone rang, and he stiffened, his lips going hard against mine before he pulled back. “Shit.”

I shoved at his shoulders. “If you didn't want to kiss me, then you shouldn't have—”

“It's not that. I just didn't want to push you when you were vulnerable,” he said, pulling away from me and ignoring his ringing phone. “I meant what I said, though. Can I help you?”

Swallowing, I stared at him, knowing I was in over my head. There's only so much you can learn from construction how-to books and YouTube. Besides, no matter how much I pushed Jeremy away, he kept showing up, so I might as well save my energy for more important things…like staying
alive
. “If you're going to help, you can stay here for free as payment.”

“Deal.” His grin lit up the room better than any flickering light ever could. “You won't regret this.”

That might be true, but one way or another…
he
would.

It was only a matter of time.

The next morning,
Jeremy was under the sink with dirty water dripping on his face and the edge of the cabinet digging into his back. The TV was on in the living room and he could just barely make out what the news anchor was saying. He'd heard the telltale dripping under the sink when he came down to the kitchen to make coffee, and he figured that there was no time like the present to start earning his keep. He intended to make sure Chelsea had no valid reason for kicking him out, since he was exactly where he wanted to be. Sooner or later, she would trust him again and tell him the truth she was trying so hard to hide. Footsteps approached, and he torqued the wrench harder. “Morning, Chels.”

The footsteps stopped at his side. Though he couldn't see her, he could easily picture her frowning down at him, arms crossed. “What are you doing under there?”

“Admiring the old lead pipes.”

“Ha-ha,” she muttered. “So funny.”

He pushed out from under the sink, swiping his forearm over his forehead as he eyed her. She wore a loose pink shirt and a pair of leggings that hugged her curves. “There was a leak in the pipes where they joined.”

She frowned, and he glanced down at her soft lips. “Since when?”

“I don't know. I just got here, but judging from the damp wood under me, I'd say a long time. But it's fixed now.” As Jeremy stood, Chelsea's eyes drifted down his shirtless torso. “Neighbors brought pie, casserole, and those.”

She eyed the red roses he'd deliberately thrown away. “And questions about Paul?”

“Of course.” He grabbed the mug off the counter, filled it with coffee, and handed it to her. “Still like it black?”

“Yeah.” She took the mug and her fingers brushed his. It was just like old times, when he used to bring her coffee every day before class, since they had gone to the same college. She could've gone away to school, but when he got a baseball scholarship for the state university, she followed him there. As her fingers left his skin, he swallowed hard. Just that simple touch was enough to make him want to pull her in his arms and kiss away the worry he could see in her eyes. “Some things never change.”

“Guess not.”

She set the coffee down, leaned on the old maple cabinets, and stared at him. Chelsea had a way of staring at a guy that made it feel like she saw all the way to the bottom of his soul. It was enlightening and scary all at once. “Why didn't you marry Mary? After all those years together, telling me that she was the love of your life, you just…left her behind.”

“I was wrong. I didn't love her,” he said simply. “Why'd you marry that guy?” He was curious to see what she'd say, since they both knew she'd never been married. “I gather from what you've let slip that he was a dick.”

“I don't know. I keep asking myself that question.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “Why did you take the boring desk job?”

“I was looking for something different. A change.” He shrugged. “Why'd you run away?”

“Same reason. I didn't want to be the girl who was in love with a boy who didn't love her back. And I definitely didn't want to be known only as Johnny O'Kane's daughter anymore.”

Her words touched him. He'd always told her that she could be more than her family. He couldn't help but feel that even though she'd done her best to leave him in the past, there was still a small chance he'd be in her future. “I always loved you. I just didn't know the truth until it was too late. After I canceled the wedding, I went down a dark hole. Drank too much. Slept too little. Was angry at the world.”

She turned away. “Yeah. I know the feeling all too well.”

“Fixing up this place with you, I think it'll be good.” He glanced around the kitchen, seeing it as it could be, not the cracked wood on the cabinets and the peeling wallpaper. “For both of us. What do you think of white cabinets?”

“
Love
them.” She came alive at the mention of the renovations, no longer looking as if she'd rather be somewhere else. “I think they'll brighten this place up, especially if we do a blue-and-white backsplash, too. I'd like to have pastries and coffee in the living room, over there, for guests who don't want room service. Or they could eat in the formal dining room with the other guests, and I could have a buffet-style breakfast in here.”

“That's a great idea.” He rubbed his chin. “You seem pretty experienced at this stuff. Where have you been? I heard you were down in Florida.”

“I was,” she said hesitantly.

“Were you in hotel management down there?”

Just like that, the excitement died in her eyes. “No.”

“So what did you do?”

Chelsea stiffened the second he pried into her past. It was infuriating. What would it take to get her to open up to him? “I was an assistant district attorney.”

“And now you're back here…fixing up inns?” He worked his jaw. “It takes guts to walk away from that degree, if you ask me. Why leave all that?”

“I didn't.” Leaving her coffee untouched on the counter, she bumped shoulders with him as she started to leave the room.
Escape
was more like it. “I'm going on a few errands. Won't be back till later tonight.”

“We'll continue this conversation later,” he called out.

She didn't reply. Just banged the front door shut behind her.

Jeremy trailed after her, watching her from the window as she got in her beater. He wanted to tag along to keep her safe, but he knew he'd be pushing his luck. He'd already wormed his way into her home. If he pushed any harder, she'd snap. If this was going to work, he needed to stay close to her.

“And in other news, a district attorney is the latest victim of increased gun violence in Miami. Dental records have confirmed that Richard Seville, who was a popular candidate for the mayoral office in Miami due to his generosity with the people of the city and his conservative political leanings, has been murdered. Authorities say someone broke into his home late Monday night, killing him. Police are looking for help to identify and locate the woman seen fleeing the scene, who is described as…”

He stopped listening, pulling out his phone and quickly dialing. “The story went national,” he said, as soon as the other person picked up. “We need to move faster.”