Making Room at the Inn Page 4

  Their time was coming to a close, he realized as the big grandfather clock in the foyer chimed out its deep stroke of the hour. The little girl was obviously struggling to keep her eyes open at this point, and he had to get back to work.

  “Well, thank you for coming to high tea, my ladies,” he said with a smile and a bow. “Dinner will be served at six, though, and we all should go take a rest for the afternoon before the festivities.”

  Mazzy cocked her head to the side and gave him a curious look. “You mean I should go take a nap?” she asked, getting right to the point.

  He laughed because there was something so refreshingly straightforward about a kid. He had once thought he’d have several by now, but life hadn’t turned out that way. “Yep.” He tapped her nose and sent a wink in Chelsea’s direction. “You and your mom should go lie down for a little bit. I think Frank, the cook, has something special brewing for dinner. You wouldn’t want to miss out on it because you’re too much of a sleepyhead.”

  As if to prove his point, her eyelids drooped, her head nodding to one side before she jerked back awake. “I’m not tired, though.”

  “Oh, I think you are.” Chelsea helped the little girl out of her chair and headed for the steps to the second floor and their room. Mazzy didn’t protest, and that told a lot, even to him, who hadn’t known her long. Perhaps her mom would come back down so they could get some things done while Mazzy wasn’t underfoot.

  She must have read his mind. Chelsea looked over her pretty shoulder and mouthed, “I’ll be right back,” to him before escorting the drooping child up the stairs.

  High tea had been a success, though something he’d thought of off the cuff. When he’d seen Mazzy’s lower lip quivering, he only knew he did not want to start out their week here with tears. His cousin’s young daughter loved high tea and was about the same age, so the words had popped out of his mouth. He didn’t regret it one bit, either, because a Mazzy meltdown had been averted and Chelsea had looked absolutely stunning. He’d tried very hard during high tea not to notice the way her eyes sparkled and how her laugh tugged at something in his gut. It hadn’t helped. He had noticed all those things and more. Like the way her hair smelled like lemons and the way she had one dimple high on her cheek right underneath her left eye. It creased in the most beguiling way.

  And he did not need to be beguiled, he thought, taking their things back to the kitchen. He had an inn to run, a staff who now counted on him. Even though they were only hosting Chelsea and Mazzy until the wedding, the following week they were booked solid.

  He was devoted to the inn and everything it represented to him. His mom called him a workaholic, but that was the way he liked it. Which was why he needed to get his head back in the game. Not to mention this was Paige’s oldest friend and he’d get his manly parts handed to him on a silver platter if he messed with her—Paige’s words, not his.

  An hour of playing to lift a little girl’s spirits was fine, but his desk was probably overflowing with things to do now. He couldn’t afford to lose his focus.

  He had approximately twenty minutes to get himself prepared to switch from tea host to business man, with not a second to waste. Heading for the kitchen first, he asked for something a little more substantial than the small crustless sandwich triangles they’d had with tea. Next he went to his room to change into jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. He couldn’t resist the urge to make sure his hair wasn’t standing up all over the place.

  Within ten minutes he was back downstairs and coming through the kitchen door into the main house when he saw a more relaxed Chelsea on the grand staircase. She had changed back into jeans, too, pairing them with a scooped neck T-shirt that flirted with her creamy cleavage.

  “Did she go down okay?”

  “I had to carry her the last few feet, so yes.” She dragged her hand along the finish of the banister as she came down the last two steps. He’d never before been jealous of an inanimate object, but the urge hit him now.

  He cleared his throat—and hopefully his stupidity in the process. “If you’d like to step into your new office, I had Adele set a few things up for you that Paige requested. Perhaps they’ll make things easier, and then you can tell me what I can do to help.”

  Why was he finding it so hard to resist touching her satiny skin? He hadn’t seen her in years. And he’d never thought of her quite that way before, during or after Paige’s threat. She was Chelsea, a friend, a tag-along, a fixture in his life like his sister or his guy friends. He valued her friendship, even if it was over the Internet and newly resumed after years without a word between them, far more than he would value stealing a kiss or two before she left. He had a lot of important balls juggling in the air right now and could not afford to add a relationship with a woman, much less a woman with a child.

  Still, he couldn’t resist enjoying the way she walked into the room and spun in a circle with her arms out to her side.

  “It’s awesome,” she said when she finally came to a standstill.

  He had to agree. Adele had outdone herself in the few hours she’d had. The small secretary desk was organized with file holders, notepads, a desk blotter and a pen holder, making it into a real honest-to-goodness working desk. A swivel chair was tucked under the desk, and a phone sat on a table within reaching distance. Chelsea’s laptop bag lay square in the middle of the desk. Adele had even thought to put a small clutch of flowers into an old Mason jar.

  All the furniture had been moved back against the walls, creating space on the floor for the many boxes Belinda, Chelsea’s sister, had been bringing over for weeks now. He knew they contained a multitude of things for the wedding, but he didn’t know what. Honestly, he hadn’t been brave enough to actually look.

  “This is everything your sister brought over. I think she said she still had a few more things at home.” He mentally checked off the twelve boxes sitting on the floor and the big tube of something standing up against the wall. “I had Adele leave the things that looked like supplies down here and stack them in the corner. Your other luggage is to your right because I didn’t want to move anything only to find out I had moved it to the wrong place.”

  She squeezed his arm with a smile of pure gratitude. “You’re the best, Jack.” She took another glance around. “Should I put the things that go upstairs outside the door? Then I can just move them a few at a time, if that’s okay. I’d like to wait until Mazzy wakes up, since I could really use the break and she needs the sleep.”

  “Anytime is good. In fact, let me know what you want where and I’ll work on getting it there. I know you’re taking on more than you thought you would. I’d like to help make it as easy as possible for you.”

  “I appreciate it. I don’t have to tell you I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous it won’t go right.”

  He stilled the hand fluttering around her neck by taking it in his own. “No, you don’t have to tell me. But I will tell you this is going to be the best wedding in the history of weddings, and your sister will love it. No worries. Trust me. I’ve never let you down. Okay?”

  “Okay.” The tension went out of her shoulders. “I really do know how to do the organizational part. And Paige has me all set up with so many lists I’m sure there’s one in there to remind me to brush my teeth on the big day. But this is so much bigger than making sure we have enough coffee and donuts for the annual shareholders’ meeting.”

  Her laugh was nervous and a little bit self deprecating. It reminded him so much of the younger Chelsea he almost hugged her. Her lemony scent reached his nostrils again, reminding him of long, hot summer days spent at the lake and of building a tree house for two determined girls, a lifetime ago. He stepped away from her with some regret, but it was for the best. He didn’t know what her personal life was like, but his was full enough without starting something that wouldn’t be finished.

  He dusted his hands together, getting back to work. “All right. Let’s get these lists out and see
what we can do to make sure everything goes according to plan. How long did you say Mazzy would be down for?”

  “About two hours, if we’re lucky.”

  “Then we’ll hope our luck holds and go from there.”

  ****

  Chelsea was all too aware of Jack sitting behind her in an accent chair done in deep green. With a folder opened on his lap, she could hear the crackle of the pages he was flipping over one by one. He would ask a question every now and then, his deep voice seeming to sneak up on her even though by now she had heard it more times than she could count.

  Why was she so aware of him, when he’d always just been the older brother all those years ago? She honestly had no idea—and no time to contemplate it. One week might seem like enough days to get everything ready, but given the copious notes in front of her she wondered if two years wouldn’t be enough to get all this done in time for Belinda to be married without a thing out of place.

  “Do you want me to make the phone calls Paige has set up for the various services leading up to the wedding day itself?” he rumbled. This time she didn’t resist the urge to turn around. She found him exactly as she had imagined him to be a mere moment ago. His sleeves were pulled tight against his muscled biceps and his ankle was casually resting on the opposite knee. He didn’t slouch but he looked comfortable, as if he had settled in for a long chat and had the time and patience to do whatever it took to get this right.

  She, in contrast, was ready to jump out of her skin. This was terrible timing and a horrible location for her hormones to start taking notice, for the first time in a long time, that she was a woman.

  “Um, yes, the phone calls would be great, if you don’t mind. That way I can concentrate on making sure I have everything Paige has listed on this paper. I guess I’ll find all the supplies I need in those boxes. Or at least I hope I will. You know how Belinda can be sometimes.”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to remind me. I kid you not, she’s called me about a thousand times since she chose the inn to have her wedding. Probably a million times before that, too.”

  He wasn’t far off, so she laughed. Her sister had called her about three hundred times just for measurements for her bridesmaid dress. She never wanted to discuss the distance between her nipples again.

  “She can be quite the go-getter. And that’s the polite way of putting it.”

  “Mmmm.”

  She took the noise as an affirmative and turned back to her work when she saw he was deep into the paperwork, again, and making lists. She needed to find boxes of linens and tablecloths, turquoise napkins and lavender place cards. She had the lists from Paige that she now had to line up with the boxes from Belinda. Leaving the baby monitor on the desk so she could hear if Mazzy woke up, she went over to the boxes to the right of Jack’s chair. Once she knelt down, she used the Exacto knife he provided to pop open the first box. It had to be the right one, since mounds of tulle flowed out as if released from captivity.

  Moving on, she opened another filled with fake trailing ivy and cut-crystal candleholders. She grabbed a thick black marker from the pen-stuffed glass jar on her new desk and began marking all the boxes with their contents. This way she wouldn’t have to check each box every time she needed something. It was one of her strengths and one of the reasons the people at the big corporate office where she worked wanted her to step into the recently vacated position of executive secretary. She was ready to take on more responsibility, and the promise of more money was something she looked forward to.

  Jack stood up from his chair to tower over her. “I think I’ll check in with Frank. See if dinner is going to be on time. Then I’ll make some of these calls. I’ll leave you to your cataloging and see you for supper.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, trying not to think about standing, too, and seeing if she really would fit right under the curve of his arm.

  She watched him walk away again and barely stopped herself from drooling. He was yummy, no doubt about it, but this wasn’t the right time or place. And it certainly wasn’t the right man.

  There was something to be said for having a person who knew you for a long time as a friend. But anything more than that and the magic would be killed. He had seen her at her worst and sometimes at her best. She still cared about him as a friend, which made it hard to understand why she was getting these fluttery feelings in her stomach when he was near. Or why it suddenly got hotter in the room when he looked at her with those penetrating blue eyes.

  She did, however, acknowledge that she breathed a sigh of relief when he left. She had eight days until the wedding and many things to do in that time. They would hardly see each other once today was over and she and Mazzy were settled in.

  Gratitude flooded through her when the baby monitor told her Mazzy was making stirring noises. Running up the flight of stairs, she escaped the room where she had felt so cozy sitting with Jack, just moments ago, as if no time at all had passed and nothing new was happening inside her. Nothing new, nothing new, she thought. She would continue with that mantra no matter how much she longed to go sit on his lap, scoot the papers out of his hand, and curl up away from the world.

  ****

  Dinner that night was filled with great conversation and good food. Jack even broke his own rule and sat down at the guest table in the dining room with Mazzy and Chelsea. He hadn’t had a sit-down dinner with anyone but his staff in too long to remember. After laughing at Mazzy’s antics, he carried her up to bed for Chelsea when the little girl nearly fell asleep in her shepherd’s pie.

  “I can take her,” Chelsea whispered in the dim light of the hallway on the second floor.

  “That’s okay, just lead me in and make sure nothing’s in my way. I’ll be fine.” His precious cargo was not that heavy, but he had still climbed a whole set of stairs with her dead weight and would welcome setting her down.

  Chelsea cleared the way as he had asked, then set about taking off Mazzy’s shoes and socks. He turned to go, but she stopped him with a quiet word. “Wait. Please.”

  He did wait, in the next room, while she got her child ready for bed. He could already smell Chelsea in the room, that citrus scent that had seemed benign years ago now clung to him like a siren’s song.

  Fortunately, Chelsea entered the room before he could get too far down memory lane. She pulled the door to the extra room closed behind her, then walked closer.

  “Do you have everything you need?” he asked, taking a few more steps toward the open door to the hallway. He might not have gotten too far down memory lane, but he had to watch his step. Nostalgia was one thing, and it was nice to have her here, but he’d always thought of her as a sister. That couldn’t change.

  “Yeah, thanks.” She drummed her fingers on the top of the chest of drawers, which she had already made her own with some change, a few trinkets, and a set of earrings. “And thanks for hanging out with us at dinner tonight. I know you probably have a million things to do, but it was nice for Mazzy to have a man’s attention for an hour or two. You went above and beyond the call of duty.”

  He brushed the compliment off. “It’s not exactly a hardship, Chelsea. She’s a great kid. You’re lucky to have her.”

  “Yeah, I am. It’s too bad Paul won’t take the time to get to know her.”

  This was tricky territory he wasn’t sure he wanted to tread. He knew her husband had left, but nothing more. Something in the tone of her voice told him things were not rosy. “I was sorry to hear about the divorce,” he said, then winced. There was really no good way to say those words.

  She moved from the chest of drawers to a post of the bed, grabbing hold and clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline. “Thanks.”

  She looked so sad he wanted to hug her. Back in the day, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, since she was Paige’s friend, not his, but she’d had her heart broken a few times by jerks, and he’d given her a hug to get her through. However, it had been too man
y years and too many memories for him to get through that space between them. “Mazzy seems to be okay. Does she understand what happened?”

  Chelsea didn’t answer at first, which made him back up a step. He had gone too far. He should escape while he still could, with his feet on the ground instead of in his mouth.

  “Don’t go,” she said as he put his hand on the door to leave. “I’m just trying to come up with a way to answer your question without painting myself like a total and complete idiot.”

  “You could never be an idiot.”

  “Spoken like a true friend.” She smiled, the dimple under her eye coming out for a moment. “The truth of the matter is that I was an idiot. A complete and total one, no less. I kept thinking his not showing interest in her was normal for a guy when the baby is little. There’s not much they do, and Paul was pretty active and busy. Why would he want to hang out with a baby who just drooled? But I loved her and thought I did enough with and for her. One day she would get older and start to talk and he would be interested in her. Show her some love.”

  He could guess the rest, but her eyes had taken on a faraway cast, as if she were reliving those moments while gathering the right words. She’d always been a doer to Paige’s thinker. Maybe that had changed with single motherhood.

  “So then he finished grad school. It was supposed to be his turn to work and take care of Mazzy while I went back to school to finish up my degree in chemistry. But after one week at home, he decided it wasn’t going to work for him. He brought her to me at my job, took off for the ski slopes, and we haven’t seen him since, no matter how many times I call.”

  She released her death grip on the post and swung back and forth with her hands clasped around the wood, mimicking Mazzy’s swinging this morning. It was interesting to him that behavior could be passed down without ever being witnessed. When Mazzy had taken her turn this morning, he’d had a flashback of Chelsea doing the same thing when she was much younger. Now her hair wasn’t as long. It didn’t flow out behind her in a silky curtain. She looked to be lost in her own world, one not as happy as in younger days, but now not as sad as she had looked a moment ago, either.