Love on the Sound Page 12

  “I thought you canceled his reservation? Did you wimp out?”

  “No, I didn’t wimp out. God.” Amy tapped her fingers on the table. “He just showed up. Four days early for his canceled reservation. Claims his assistant didn’t tell him it was canceled .”

  Nell snorted. “Probably thought he could charm himself into getting the black pepper body scrub anyway.”

  “That’s what I thought too.” Amy nodded.

  Hannah pursed her lips, admitted, “I kind of like him.”

  “Hannah!” Amy shook her head. “You can’t fall for his ‘aw shucks, I’m just a regular guy’ act.”

  “Who is he?” Nell asked.

  Hannah dropped her voice to a whisper. “Ben Morrison.”

  “What?” Nell’s voice rose an octave, and Amy and Hannah shushed her when the café’s few customers turned to look. She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. Like the whole town hasn’t noticed that he’s here, I’m sure.”

  “Actually, other than coming into the café, he hasn’t been around much. He has a sailboat that came in on Wednesday, and ever since then, he spends most of the day out on the water.”

  “So, is he staying for eight weeks?” Nell asked.

  “Yeah,” Amy sighed. “When he first showed up, he looked so tired I probably could have poked him with one finger, and he’d have fallen over. So I told him he could stay for one night and that I’d make him a reservation at Rosario Resort for the rest of his stay. Turns out he really wanted to stay here, and he offered to pay a higher room rate, since he said it could be a hassle for me if the paparazzi track him down.”

  “He’s staying for eight weeks, and he’s paying the higher room rate?” Hannah grinned. “Damn, I should have been charging him double for those muffins.”

  Nell ran her hands through her hair. “Did you lay down the law, tell him no extra large condoms were available?”

  Amy laughed. “I told him we didn’t carry Molton Brown products and he looked confused.”

  “Because who doesn’t carry them?” Nell drew her brows together in bewilderment and then grinned. “Like that?”

  “Pretty much. Then he said he wanted to be treated like any other guest.” Amy shrugged. “So, I took him at his word. I haven’t seen him much at all—he’s slept past breakfast all this week, and then is out most of the day.”

  “So, no horrible demands.” Hannah shot her a look. “See, I think he’s a nice guy.”

  “The way to a woman’s heart is through her muffins?” Amy queried, making Nell laugh. “Okay, I admit, he hasn’t asked me for anything. Yet.”

  Nell nodded. “Exactly—that’s the key word.” She leaned back and crossed her feet at her ankles. “But wow, talk about crazy. Is he as hot in real life as he is in the movies?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Amy shrugged, and pushed away the image of Ben’s bright blue stare. Those luscious lips. And God, that ass. Hannah kicked her under the table.

  “You guess? Girl, you are such a liar.” She peered at Amy over the frames of her glasses. “The man is hot.”

  Amy laughed. “Okay, okay. He’s hot, I’ll grant you that. But truly, I’ve hardly seen him since he checked in.” She sighed. “I really hope I don’t wake up one of these mornings and open my door to a sea of reporters.”

  “He seems sober, at least when I’ve seen him.”

  “Yeah,” Amy confirmed. “No Sound of Music show tunes, no alcohol that I’ve seen.”

  “I can sympathize with him there,” Nell admitted. “God knows I’ve had some drunken episodes I wouldn’t have wanted more than five people to see let alone the whole country. Although,” she added with a grin, “Hannah, it would be really funny if you invited him to the next open mic night to sing.”

  Amy burst out laughing, and Hannah’s lips twitched. “That’s not very nice,” Hannah said, trying to control her smile.

  “But funny,” Nell pointed out.

  Amy looked at the fireplace, which served as the “stage” for the open mic night. Hannah had been holding them regularly for the past year, and given there wasn’t a lot of nightlife on the island, they were popular. Amy saw Paul’s sunburst Gibson propped against the wall.

  “I swear, the man leaves that lying around like it’s a toy.” Amy rolled her eyes and stashed it behind the corner.

  “No one’s going to steal it, city girl,” Nell said, an edge to her voice.

  “Do you know every single person that lives here? What about all the people from other islands that could come over for this?” Amy snapped at her, tired of her constant patronizing.

  “Paul’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Nell muttered, shoving a table to the side with unnecessary force.

  “So, are you guys coming to the open mic? It’s coming up in just a few days,” Hannah asked brightly in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “Probably,” Amy said. “I haven’t talked to him yet today.”

  “Better go ask him and let him know his precious guitar is in danger from all the thieves here on Lopez.” Nell stood stiffly, her back to them both, as she busied herself pushing chairs to the wall.

  Amy opened her mouth to ask Nell what the fuck her problem was, when Hannah shook her head, mouthing, “I’ll talk to her.” Amy pressed her lips together and threw up her hands.

  “Lovely chatting with you as always,” she said sarcastically, and walked out.

  Outside, Amy hesitated on the sidewalk. No. This passive aggressive shit with Nell wasn’t going to go on. They were having it out right then and there. She turned and opened the door to the bakery. Hannah had her back to the door as she added fresh coffee grounds to the coffeepot, and Nell stood beside her. Amy stopped in the doorway, eavesdropping.

  “—not going to apologize,” Nell was saying. “I don’t have to get all lovey-dovey with someone who won’t last another year. I’m surprised she hasn’t sold the inn and taken off by now.”

  “I know,” Hannah said.

  Amy backed out onto the sidewalk and eased the door shut quietly before she could hear anymore. She hurried across the street to her car, and once inside, just sat, hands resting on the steering wheel. What a bitch. That explained the reserve, coolness, she’d always sensed with Nell. Amy pressed the back of her hand against her cheek, trying to cool the flush of anger—and the hurt. Nell didn’t know her. But Hannah? Hannah thought she was going to take off and leave? She’d been on the island three fucking years now.

  Starting up the truck with a roar, she stepped on the gas and got the hell out of town. She replayed Nell’s words over and over. Amy pulled into the driveway, spraying gravel, relieved to see Ben’s Porsche wasn’t there. She slammed the door and then stopped.

  Hadn’t she been thinking the same thing, though? That sometimes she felt as if she was playing innkeeper? Her own parents were bemused by her decision to live here and run the inn, and every Christmas when she visited them in San Francisco, asked when she was going to give up and go home. She’d made friends here, but casual ones. And Hannah, her closest friend, thought she was going to leave?

  Restless, Amy bypassed the inn and headed for the backyard. She crossed through the garden to the path down to the beach, and sat on a log in the sand.

  The seagulls swooped overhead, calling out to each other. Late afternoon sun streamed in, sending shimmers of gold light through the waves. Amy noticed Carl Doyle’s boat on the bay, hauling in the catch of the day. Nancy Halsey paddled across the waves in her bright green kayak. After three years, she knew the names of most of the people on the island. It was true she’d cocooned herself the first year, buried in the work that it took to get the inn up and running. That was understandable, right? But after that, she’d followed Hannah’s advice and forced herself out there.

  Amy traced patterns in the sand with a stick, and watched the grains shift and settle. In her old life, she’d be packing up, getting ready to leave the days’ work of meetings, emails, and memos behind. And now, here she w
as, cooking, gardening, balancing her books every month, and having the time to just sit and watch the water. She couldn’t believe she could make a living out of doing this. And, that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? She drew her knees up to her chest and propped her chin on them. She may have worked her ass off the past three years, but hadn’t there been a part of her that hesitated to put down too many roots, that felt like she was playing a grown up version of house? Was she really going to spend the rest of her life here on this tiny island? Or would she, as Nell said, pack up and leave?

  A sailboat painted a soft yellow came into view. The boat slid through the waves, white sails rippling and snapping against the blue sky. Amy could just make out the figure of a man, feet planted securely apart, standing at the helm. As she watched the small boat, she felt herself relaxing bit by bit, charmed by the graceful picture it made, the smooth movements of the man as he walked forward to adjust the ropes, let out the sails more. She imagined the sound the waves made slapping against the hull, how he could look out past the Sound and see nothing but blue water for miles.

  As the boat came closer, the man seemed to be looking toward shore, towards On the Sound. Amy squinted, shading her eyes against the sun on the water, and realized that he looked familiar. Sure enough, she was able to just make out his hair, his long, lanky build, and realized it was, as Hannah called him, Mr. Huckleberry Muffin himself. He spotted her and raised his hand in greeting. She waved back. As the boat came closer to the shallow waters of the bay, he turned back to the helm and veered course out to the open sea.

  Amy watched him go, and couldn’t decide which made a finer picture, the boat or the man. And okay, she hadn’t admitted it to Hannah and Nell but the man was damn sexy. Really, was there anything better than watching a hot man, shirtless, thank you Jesus, totally in control of the beautiful boat, the sails under his hands attuned to each breeze and gust of the wind. Soon, he’d followed the curve of the island and was out of sight. She stood up and brushed the sand off her jeans, no closer to answers, but oddly at peace after watching her guest sail through the water. And for that, if nothing else, she was grateful to him.

  But still, not grateful enough to provide him with Twix bars on a plate every afternoon.

  Chapter 9

  Ben stretched his legs out and settled into the banquette in the On the Sound kitchen. Sun streamed in the large windows, softening the bright yellow walls into a mellow glow. The scent of coffee intertwined with bacon, along with the salty sea air that blew in through the window over the sink. He eyed the coffee pot across the room, still dripping from the cone. Once it was done brewing, the morning would be pretty damn perfect.

  He shifted his attention to his landlady, who stood in ratty jeans and bare feet at the stove, tossing potatoes and vegetables in a skillet with a quick flick of her wrist. It was the first morning of his stay that he hadn’t slept through breakfast, and after giving Amy his order, he’d sat in the living room for a while, browsing the paper. But, intrigued by the sizzling sounds and scents coming from the kitchen, he’d soon made his way back there and plopped down on the booth that overlooked the Sound. She’d tried to hide her irritation at having her kitchen invaded, but she wasn’t very good at it. He’d only been at On the Sound for a few days, and hadn’t seen much of her, but he could already tell that her cheeks flushed when emotion flashed through her. The rosy tint would die down, the freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose coming once more into focus, then flare up again as the thoughts cycled through her head.

  Her back was to him as she cooked, and he caught a glimpse of the back of her neck as she bent her head, her cap of auburn hair swinging forward. She tucked a strand behind her ears as she turned her attention from the stove and began beating eggs. He liked her body—rounded hips, arms with some muscle tone, excellent legs. No harm in looking, after all, he told himself, when nothing would come of it. The lady was still giving off very strong “I don’t like you” vibes.

  It had been a long time since he’d been around someone who actively disliked him. Which made him realize that he really didn’t know how his Hollywood friends or agent or manager felt about him—but they made sure to agree with him and act like he was God’s gift to this earth. On one hand, it was a nice change to be around someone who wasn’t falling over themselves to please him. On the other hand, it was irritating given that he hadn’t done anything to annoy her—and he was bringing her income during what had to be the start of her slow season.

  The coffee looked like it had finished, and he unfolded his legs from under the table and strode across the room. Amy looked over her shoulder.

  “No need to get up, I’ll bring that over,” she said. She was smiling, but her big brown eyes weren’t. He wondered what it would take to make her really laugh, to make the skin around those eyes crinkle.

  “I’ve got it,” he said casually. “Mugs?”

  She reached into the cabinet above her and drew out a ceramic mug. When she handed it to him, their fingers brushed, just for a moment. Ben’s pulse kicked up, and a sudden urge to grab her, back her up against the counter and nibble on that luscious mouth slammed into his mind. Wondering if she’d felt the connection, he looked at her, but she had her gaze focused on the eggs as if her life depended on it. He shook it off.

  Ben poured the steaming coffee into his mug, and held out the pot to her. “Do you want some?”

  She looked up briefly, then back down at the eggs, which she was sprinkling with fresh herbs. “No, I’m not a coffee person. Thanks.”

  “I’ve always wondered about you people,” he said, taking a seat at the island, pouring in a generous dollop of cream and sugar.

  “You people?” She moved to the stove, quickly touching her finger to the empty frying pan that sat on one of the burners, the gas flame on low underneath it. She gave the potatoes another shake.

  “How can you function without caffeine?” Ben closed his eyes and buried his nose in the mug, inhaling the rich scent. “God. It’s so good.”

  “So you’re a something of a coffee connoisseur?” Amy asked. There was an edge of sarcasm in her tone that Ben couldn’t place. She tossed a small cube of butter in the empty pan, and it slid to the edge, the bottom already melting.

  “I wouldn’t say that. As long as it’s hot and strong, that’s all I care about.”

  She looked up at that, then poured the eggs into the butter-coated pan. The quirk at her mouth, and slightly arched eyebrow screamed, “Yeah, right.”

  Ben took a drink of coffee, and then a deep breath. Clearly she thought of him as a spoiled movie star. He had to bite back his temper and remind himself that the only side she’d seen of him was the one that had shown up with no notice four days early, assuming his room would be ready anyway. He watched as she dished up the eggs and potatoes, and added a few triangles of toast.

  “Would you like to eat in here or in the dining room?” she asked, back to all business.

  “In here is fine,” he said, not moving from his spot. “Why don’t you join me?”

  “I’ve eaten already.” She placed the plate in front of him, with a napkin and silverware. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No.” He sighed as she turned away and stacked dishes in the sink. He forgot about his irritation at the first bite of the buttery, fluffy eggs, and the potatoes with their crispy brown skins and soft centers. “This is excellent.”

  “Thank you.” She left the dishes in the sink and walked to the doorway. “Enjoy your breakfast. If you need anything, I’ll be at the front desk.”

  Doing what? Ben wondered. Waiting until he was done because she couldn’t stand being in the same room with him? He couldn’t help himself.

  “I do need something.” He set his fork down and swiveled on the stool to face her as she stood, one hand on the doorframe. “Tell me why you don’t like me.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted it. Could he sound more like a high schooler? But, it was too
late, and he watched as her face went blank with shock, then her chin shoot up.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Look.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “From the moment I arrived it seemed like you didn’t want me to be here. I mean, this is a B&B, right? I assume that you like people, or you wouldn’t be inviting them to stay here. And, I don’t understand why you canceled my reservation.”

  Amy folded her arms across her chest. “I already explained that to you, Mr. Morrison. I didn’t feel that we had the resources to accommodate your requests.”

  “You obviously do,” he countered. “No TV, a big bed, view of the sea.”

  “Peruvian coffee, Twix bars,” she shot back.

  He stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your list of demands. Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” she said when he sat there, silent. “It was outrageous. That’s why I didn’t want you staying here. You’re too high maintenance. And, I don’t like being treated like a servant.”

  That did it. “When have I treated you that way?” He felt like grabbing her and shaking her. Then, kissing her. The conflicting emotions made him even grumpier. “And no, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What demands? I just told you that all I asked for was no TV in the room, a king sized bed and a view.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Without another word, Amy whirled and walked away, her feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Ben cursed and turned back to his rapidly cooling breakfast. He heard the printer starting up in the hallway, and he rolled his eyes as he shoveled eggs into his mouth, not tasting them. So she was just going to go to work and pretend that was the end of it? Real mature. She didn’t want him in her kitchen? Fine. He would take as long as he damned pleased to finish his breakfast. Maybe even finish reading the paper.

  And that’s mature, he told himself, shaking his head. What he should do was go after her. After all, they couldn’t tiptoe around each other for the next eight weeks. But, before he could get up, he heard her stride back down the hallway. She rushed into the kitchen and slapped a piece of paper down next to his plate.