Audrey’s Inn Page 2

  His grimace was painful to look at. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you.”

  She waved. “Don’t sweat it. I thought our cooking had poisoned you. This is a better option for me. And what do you mean, attack? You caught me off guard; otherwise, I would have kicked your ass,” she totally lied. No amount of technique—which she was sorely lacking—would have made up for the difference in mass and strength. Connor here was a fighter. And a good one, at that.

  He ignored her jab. “Did I hurt you?”

  Besides giving her a heart attack, no, not much. She cleared her throat. “Nah. It might be a bit sore tomorrow, but nothing that a warm drink won’t cure.” She might have to wear a scarf for a couple of days, too, but he looked pained enough. No need to add to it.

  “I was… This…”

  “Heightened startle response,” she replied. “I know. Sorry I touched you without warning.”

  That surprised him. “How—”

  “I’m well-acquainted with panic attacks and grounding techniques. My brother suffered from PTSD,” she admitted, regretting her slip right away.

  He didn’t answer. He just nodded to the sky and thankfully didn’t question her further.

  “Where did you serve?” she asked, something else she shouldn’t have said. What he needed now was fluffy conversation. Light talk, with some laughter.

  “How do you know I served?”

  Please. “It’s written all over you.” She’d grown up surrounded by military men. She could smell them from a mile away.

  He didn’t answer her. “You can go. I’m fine. If you want to press charges for assault, I understand.”

  “No need to press charges. Accidents happen.”

  He didn’t seem to agree with her last statement, but he let it go. “Then I’d appreciate it if you keep this… accident, as you call it, between us.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” She was of the opinion that keeping this secret wouldn’t help Con, but who the hell was she to tell him what was best? She didn’t have much to show for in her thirty years of life, aside from fuckups. “In exchange I’ll ask that you come here often and bring friends and family. I need clients, lots of them,” she finished, going for chirpy.

  He again ignored her attempt to make the situation less tense. “I saw you talking with the OGs,” he said instead.

  “OGs?” No one at the reception had been gangsta enough to qualify for that title.

  “The grandmas sitting near the Jacuzzi. You should be careful of them. They’re more dangerous than they look.”

  “I figured,” she answered. “They showed me a picture of them riding a motorcycle with a sidecar when they were young. Daredevils.” That picture must have been taken sixty years ago. Women hadn’t ridden motorcycles back then, much less without a man in the driver’s seat. Never mind there had been four women on that contraption with a one-person sidecar.

  “I’ve seen that pic. Wilma carries it in her wallet. Why did she show it to you?”

  Audrey smiled, glad she’d managed to engage him in a real exchange. It would ground him further and take his mind off whatever trauma he’d suffered. “The one driving, with the crazy aviator glasses and helmet?”

  “Audrey?” Con asked. “What about her?”

  “My grandmother,” Audrey replied.

  Now she had his full attention. He turned to her. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Nope.”

  Connor studied her face. “You do look like her.”

  “So I’ve been told many times. I was named after her, although I never got to meet her. And that motorcycle with the sidecar? I found it in one of the barns when we were doing the renovations.”

  He sat up, crossing his forearms on his knees, the grimace coming back to mar his gorgeous face. “You didn’t tell the OGs that, did you?”

  “Yes.” By his tone and stance, it seemed she’d made a mistake. “Why? Shouldn’t I have?”

  Connor sighed loudly. “The girl in the bitch seat is my grandma—Greta. The old lady wearing a turban back at the reception? That’s her. I’m her grandson.”

  Shit. “Don’t worry. I mentioned that the bike needs a major overhaul. No one can revive that old piece of junk.”

  He snorted and looked at the sky. “Wilma’s granddaughter, Rachel, is the best mechanic in the greater Boston area. She specializes in remodeling antique cars. A bike like that would be no stretch for her. She could have it purring in no time.”

  So that’s why the grandmas had been so happy that they had proposed a toast? “What does LOLO mean?” That had been the toast.

  Connor shook his head. “They mean YOLO: you only live once. Their vision is not the sharpest, so they read it wrong or remembered it wrong. Either way, it stuck. LOLO means trouble. It means we’re screwed. You’re Audrey’s granddaughter, so you’re included.”

  Should she offer to torch the motorcycle? She couldn’t do that, though. It had been very important to Grandma Audrey—or so she’d been told.

  Before she could come up with something to say, they heard giggling. They turned their heads toward the sound and saw a couple sneaking around, looking mighty lovey-dovey. She saw their faces as they passed the wall-mounted light. Wait. Wasn’t that the sheriff?

  “Good timing,” Con whispered. “The lady with the sheriff is Rachel.”

  “The girl who got proposed to at the party is the mechanic you were talking about?”

  “Yep.”

  The couple turned the corner of the barn, and Con and Audrey lost sight of them. “Hmm…” Con murmured. “I think you may want to keep your barns locked and put a fence up to keep guests in check.”

  She smiled. “I see.”

  “You better start getting familiar with Alden’s inhabitants, because as soon as they learn you are Audrey’s granddaughter, they will take over.”

  “What do you mean?” She was a rather reserved person.

  “People around here don’t understand the meaning of ‘keeping their distance.’ Either you’re in or you’re out. You are most definitely in.” Con’s eyes were scrutinizing her now. “By the way, what are you doing lying here? You have a reception in full swing.”

  “Tapped out,” she said with a sigh. “PR is not really my forte. Nor is it yours.”

  He studied her so intensely, she felt his gaze on her skin, abrading it. She shrugged and broke eye contact. “Saw you at the party.”

  He didn’t seem to think that deserved a comment, because he just lifted his gaze to the night sky and kept his mouth shut. Again she thought he wasn’t going to say anything but, finally, he spoke. “I’d rather be here. This is more me. Alone and flat on my ass.”

  She snorted softly. He probably wouldn’t believe her, but this was more her style too.

  Chapter Two

  Two days later, Connor walked into Audrey’s Inn. Greta had sent him there on an errand, and thank fuck she had, because he’d been itching for an excuse to come. “Is the owner in?”

  Before the chirpy girl at reception could answer, Audrey came down the stairs, breaking into a smile when she saw him. She wasn’t dressed as fancy as the other night, but the power suit looked damn good on her. Pencil skirt, fitted jacket, all in black, high heels included, except for the red kerchief wrapped around her throat. Pretty and sexy and businesslike. The whole package, really.

  She reached him, her smile momentarily blinding him. Man, he’d noticed the other day she was beautiful, but he hadn’t realized how beautiful. Her lips were red and plush and so damn voluptuous. Like her hourglass figure. She wore her hair up in a Katharine Hepburn bun, which made her blue eyes look huge. She had a cute beauty mark on her left cheek, near her mouth. Same beauty mark he remembered seeing on OG Audrey. Although he didn’t recall it giving him a hard-on then.

  He was probably staring, maybe even drooling. Jeez, he had to get a grip. Yes, she was beautiful and sexy and soft and damn feminine. He needed to remember he’d tried to choke her first t
ime they met. He had no business being around such a delicate creature. He shouldn’t have left the hospital so soon. He wasn’t fit to be near people. He was a fucking menace.

  And yet here he was. He didn’t understand it himself. After months of feeling powerless and hating it, the last thing he wanted was to appear weak in front of anyone. But look at him, seeking out the only person in all of Alden who’s seen him out of control and flat on his ass.

  She frowned. “Why the sour face?” Not only pretty but perceptive. He’d been right; she had good instincts. Or maybe not. She wasn’t running for the hills yet.

  Trying to get his head back in the game, he handed her the box Greta had given him. “From the OGs,” he said as she took it. “Pictures of your grandma when she was young.”

  Audrey’s beautiful blue eyes opened wide. “Really?”

  Con nodded. “Greta told me you can keep them. She said all four of them are in most shots.”

  She’d opened the box and was skimming through the pictures. “Whoa. Thank you so much. I’ll choose the best ones and hang them around the inn. Come on,” she said. “Let me offer you a coffee.”

  She got two cups from the breakfast table, filled them with coffee, and handed them to him. “Milk? Sugar? Mine black,” she instructed while she placed several pastries on a plate and, crooking a finger, headed for the yard.

  Good thing he took his coffee black, because he could barely keep up with her. By the time he realized what was going on, she was already marching out the open terrace door. “It’s a gorgeous day. Let’s enjoy it outside.”

  They made it to a quiet table near the pool. “You scared in close quarters I’ll freak out and attack your clients?”

  Her laugh was so cute. “I’m insured. Do your worst. And I remind you, we just opened; we barely have clients.”

  He studied her. He liked that she wasn’t treating him like a sick, broken person. Nor was she afraid. No kid gloves.

  “Thanks for the pics,” she said. “Did you know my grandma?”

  He shook his head. “I must have met her, because I was small when she died, but I don’t remember her.”

  “I was told she was ahead of her time. She refused to marry and had my mother alone. Said that a woman could manage by herself just fine.”

  Yeah, the four of them had been ahead of their times. That was why they refused to be left behind now.

  “My mother hated it, though,” Audrey continued. “That’s why she left town and never came back.”

  “Nothing like a liberal mom to make a conservative out of a kid, right?”

  She let out a throaty laugh. So damn sexy. “Yes. Although she divorced pretty quickly and ended up being a single mother too. Ironic, huh? By the way, Rachel came to see me about the motorcycle yesterday.”

  “Already?” He’d known it wouldn’t take long, but that had been fast.

  She nodded. “She offered to repair it for free in exchange for letting the OGs ride it from time to time. She said she had to run it by you and Mike, but that you guys would probably agree.”

  “Yeah, we share custody.” Wilma would have to drive; she was the only OG with any kind of license at this point. Rebecca had given hers up voluntarily, and Con’s dad had taken care of depriving Greta of hers.

  “Once the bike and the sidecar are repaired, let’s take a new picture of them on it. I’ll hang both here at the inn. My grandma would have loved that.” After a pause, Audrey said, “Thanks for bringing these, but I could have gone myself to pick them up.”

  “Well, I had an ulterior motive,” he confessed. “I came to thank you for… you know.” And to check on her. He hadn’t slept worth a damn these past few nights, thinking about the incident. Not that he slept much nowadays.

  “For talking you down?” she offered. He had been going to say for not pressing charges after he attacked her. He felt like shit about that. “I’d rather you stop thanking me and, I don’t know, invite me to dinner as compensation?”

  Now that they were alone, he reached to her throat and pulled the kerchief down, cursing under his breath as he saw the angry marks his fingers had left on her pale skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He should be shot on sight. Shot and dismembered, just for good measure.

  She rolled her eyes and slapped at his hand. “Don’t be dramatic.” Straightening her kerchief, she leaned in and whispered, “If I weren’t supposed to be a respectable inn owner, I would bare my throat and tell anyone who asked that I like rough sex. No one in my old neighborhood would have blinked twice at that sort of statement. Alden might, though.”

  He choked on his coffee and she laughed. “Don’t tell me I offended your tender sensibilities.”

  No. Yes. Maybe. He didn’t know.

  Then he noticed her hands were scratched and there was a cut around her finger. Holy fuck. What had he actually done to her? Had he blacked out that badly? “Did I do that too?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Chill. I did this to myself. I used to love gardens—before I had to tend to one. I wanted to plant some roses over there and do a bit of landscaping, but I realized I can’t even prune a hedge without injuring myself. I hope to find a gardener soon. I can’t pay much, but I can throw in a room if they take care of repairing stuff around the inn too. I’m a disaster with power tools.” She cocked her head, studying him. “Are you interested?”

  Man, this must be a plague. Everyone he met offered him a job. He decided to play along, though. “I live with my grandmother. I don’t need a room.”

  She took a bite of the pastry, icing sugar turning her lips glossy and too damn delectable. “Really? You don’t strike me as the type to live at home.”

  “Family issues. I need to keep my dad and my grandma in check. I’d rather live with her than with him,” he said, not feeling like elaborating on the whole mess about the competency proceedings. He shrugged, moving his gaze away from that lovely mouth. “What can I tell you? My résumé is rather bleak at the moment. I’m thirty-six, unemployed, lacking in social skills, and living with my grandmother. Oh, and as you witnessed firsthand, I’m in meltdown mode. Great qualifications, right?”

  She laughed. “Oh, I’ve hired people with weirder skill sets. Besides, I’m no better. I’m not unemployed—worse, I’m responsible for an entire inn and its employees. I’ve never been responsible for anything in my life, much less people. Even the plants in my apartments always died. Now I have personnel to take care of. Oh, and I owe the bank my behind.”

  “At least you don’t lose your shit.”

  She pursed her lips in amusement. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. You haven’t seen me at night, guzzling down gallons of ice cream, trying to calm myself down.”

  Funny. “Why did you buy this place?” Running an inn this big seemed like a huge responsibility to him. And she’d had to remodel the building after many years of it being abandoned.

  “I heard it was my grandmother’s dream that it would reopen and belong to the family again. I’m a sucker for family legacies. And I have promises to keep.”

  “To your mom?”

  Now she looked uncomfortable, her eyes avoiding contact. “Not exactly. Anyhow, when it comes to hiring, I go with my gut.”

  He stared at her for the longest time. “And what does your gut tell you about me?”

  She stared back, her expression sobering up. Clever girl. She was reading him right. Predator here, a damaged one at that.

  She didn’t say that. “I don’t need to consult my gut on this one. You’re Greta’s grandson. Grandma Audrey would have loved having you here.”

  “Wrong answer. Always go with your gut.”

  * * *

  Audrey contemplated the pile of unpaid bills and sighed. Running this place was going to be more complicated than she’d envisioned. When she’d daydreamed with her roommate about returning to Alden and restoring her family’s legacy, she’d focused on the good parts, like belonging somewhere again and building memories with Grandma Audrey’s fri
ends. She hadn’t envisioned overdue loan payments and making payroll and maintaining insurance and whatnot.

  The place had been a B&B back in the day, but once Audrey started with the renovations, she’d decided to add a few amenities and a liquor license and upgrade to an inn. Even though it didn’t have many rooms, it had lots of outdoor facilities, and she was working with a skeleton crew. Red ran the kitchen, from shopping to cooking to cleanup. After the breakfast rush, Suzy, the kitchen assistant, also covered the bar. Audrey had hired Shantel for reception, but she moonlighted as a waitress when necessary, and Violet was part-time in the morning for cleaning duties. Audrey ran from place to place, helping wherever she was needed.

  Being short-staffed sucked; being short on money sucked even worse. She should had waited until she had more funds. Too bad that hadn’t been an option. If she hadn’t jumped in headfirst, she would have gotten cold feet and run away. No way. Too much had been lost. Something good had to come from her messed-up life, dammit.

  She was drumming with her fingers on the bar when her chef placed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses in front of her. “We just opened.” Red pointed out from the other side of the counter. “Troubles already?”

  “We need more money coming in.” She couldn’t go under. She had a dream to fulfill. This was too important.

  Red poured two shots. “If you’d agree to appear in the papers, as I suggested, we’d have more clients, sweetie.”

  “We did appear in several newspapers and on social media,” Audrey replied.

  Red gave her the look. “Please. A picture of your face in those articles would have drawn much more attention and sold more rooms than a picture of the inn, never mind how charming it is. Basic marketing 101.”

  “I’m not comfortable with pictures and social media.” She never had been and was much less now. She preferred to fly below the radar.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like the exposure. I have scopophobia,” she primly said.

  “You have what?” Red asked, almost choking on her drink.