Audrey’s Inn Page 3

  “I’m scopophobic. It’s the fear of drawing attention to oneself, like being photographed.”

  “I’ve heard of selfiephobia, not sco-whatever.”

  “More or less the same,” Audrey explained.

  Red scoffed and downed her drink. “Then you better operate on that gorgeous face and bod of yours, because wherever you go, you turn heads.”

  Audrey ignored her chef’s jab. “You allow one measly pic and soon your face is splashed all over social media. No, thank you. That makes me nervous.”

  “One might think you were on the run.”

  Audrey plastered a calm smile on her face. “Yes, I’m a fugitive from justice. How did you know?”

  “Please. With that sweet face of yours? What did you do, jaywalk? No, seriously,” Red continued, “what do you think about me promoting the inn a bit to the girls in my previous job? Depending on their shift, most of them would rather sleep here than drive back to Boston at three in the morning.”

  Hiring Red had been one of those weird decisions she’d made by following her gut. She’d met Red behind the bar of Bottoms Up, a striptease joint on the outskirts of town. What were the chances of finding someone who’d studied at a renowned culinary academy serving drinks in a place like that?

  Audrey had stopped there after a rather shitty day of dealing with contractors and inspections. Red had taken a look at Audrey’s face and not only offered her a drink, but also chocolate cake topped with whipped cream. “Death by Chocolate,” she’d called it, saying it was a sure cure for whatever ailed her. The girls had bonded over chocolate, and the rest, as they say, is history.

  “Sure. Why not?” Bottoms Up wasn’t a sleazy dump riddled with drugs and prostitution. It was a classy nightclub whose owner, a knockout of a woman named Sinful, ran a tight ship and took special care the dancers were safe. Plus Audrey had heard all of them took self-defense classes at the local gym. No one dared to mess with those girls.

  “Done. I’ll give them a call,” Red stated. “And I’ll tell Suzy to post more pictures on social media of the grand opening. None with you in it!” she hurried to add at Audrey’s evil look. “We need the exposure with summer knocking at the door. I think it was a great idea to offer an entry fee for nonclients to gain access to the outdoor facilities. Renting out a Jet Ski, pedal boats, and bicycles is brilliant.”

  Audrey nodded. Rentals had been her roommate’s idea. The inn property had great potential. There was the pool and the Jacuzzi by the garden as well as the lakeshore in the back yard. “I do hope it was brilliant and not a bad investment.” Hope it more than anything, because in that pile in front of her was a maxed-out credit card statement, which included charges to lease that Jet Ski and those boats and bikes. She was even paying up for a couple of electrical bikes. Old people needed electrical bikes. Audrey had been adamant about that. Hopefully she’d been right.

  “When will they be delivered?”

  “Soon.” As soon as the payment cleared, that was.

  “In no time we’ll have a full house, you’ll see,” Red said, oblivious to her boss’s thoughts. Then she did a complete 180. “Say. What about that cute guy you were talking to this morning by the pool?”

  It took a while for Audrey to connect the word “cute” with Connor. He was many things, but cute wasn’t one of them. Too much raw power for such a description. He was like a wounded panther: gorgeously lethal. Not cute. “Connor brought me pictures of my grandmother and her friends when they were young.”

  “Connor.” Red’s smirk was all-knowing. “I see we’re on a first-name basis already. Good.”

  Please. Audrey rolled her eyes. “I tried to hire him as the gardener but no luck.”

  “Such a pity.” Red sighed and poured them another shot. “It would vastly improve the inn experience to have a hunk like him in the background, bare-chested and sweaty, muscles glistening under the sun, while he cut the grass or cleaned the pool.”

  Audrey laughed then drank to that. She had sworn off men, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ogle.

  * * *

  Con was sitting in Greta’s back yard, watching the sunset, when he caught sight of Mike coming his way from the neighboring yard. He had two beers in hand and a smile on his face.

  “Kyra and Sam?” Con asked.

  “Home.”

  Kyra had been Mike’s first and only love. Sam was her daughter. It had almost killed Mike to lose Kyra once, but a year ago he’d gotten his second chance, and they’d managed to work it out. “How does it feel to be a married man?” Con asked.

  “Fantastic,” Mike replied, although the way he was smiling, no other answer was needed. “You should try it.”

  Right. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I know you would have come if you could have. Listen,” Mike said, giving Con a beer, “I was thinking that if you want something to do while you reacclimate to being a civilian, you could help run the gym. Or give some classes if you prefer.”

  Connor couldn’t refrain from barking out a laugh. “What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is everyone offering me a job?” Did he look that desperate? “First the Bowens. Then Audrey. Now you.”

  “Audrey the owner of the inn?”

  Connor nodded. “She offered me a job as her gardener.”

  Mike smirked. “Man, that sounds kinky. Rachel said she saw you lying with her on the grass during the party. What’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up, wiseass. I’ll tell you what I told Audrey: thanks, but no thanks.” Although for totally different reasons. What concerned him about Mike’s offer was that there were too many people at the gym. Not to mention the close quarters in the locker room. Too much exposure. Also, him undressing would raise more than a few eyebrows, and he wasn’t going there. Not ready to discuss that shit. Turning down Audrey’s offer down had just been self-preservation. He was attracted to her. That was more than reason enough to run in the opposite direction.

  “If you change your mind, you only have to—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Con interrupted. “If I change my mind, I’ll tell you.”

  “And what Rachel said, about you lying with Audrey on the grass?” Mike asked, taking a sip from his beer.

  Con had had no clue Rachel had seen them. She and her man had looked… distracted enough to have missed Audrey and him. Regardless, Con wasn’t about to tell one of his best friends that he, Con, was fucked up in the head and had gone feral, trying to kill Audrey. “Rachel must have been confused. By the way, has she told you about the bike and sidecar?”

  “You don’t use your cell much, do you? The OGs have changed the group picture on Messenger. It’s them on that rusty bike, Rachel by their side.”

  “I haven’t seen it.”

  “You need to pack at all times.”

  “What?”

  “Cell phone,” Mike explained with a duh-look. “You need to have your cell close by at all times. That’s how we keep on top of things and find out when they’re in trouble. That is, when we’re in trouble.”

  “Right.”

  They sat in amicable silence for a long while.

  “Con…” Mike’s voice sounded serious. Too serious. “Something’s wrong, right?”

  No sense keeping it from Mike. Although Con was sparing him the more gruesome details. “Last mission went FUBAR.”

  “What happened?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Con muttered. “Hell, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t want to know.”

  Con didn’t want to talk and thank fuck Mike had known him long enough to respect that. They sat side by side and drank until a ruckus came from Greta’s house.

  “You’re out here boozing while I’m babysitting?” That was Rachel, walking toward them. She sagged into a chair. “I drove the OGs here. Whatever they get into from now on is on you boys. I’m off duty.”

  “Busy afternoon?” Mike asked.

  “Kind of. I had the three of them at the garage, marv
eling at the motorcycle and explaining to me in detail how I’m supposed to restore it. They want it exactly as it was sixty years ago.”

  “About that,” Mike started, frowning.

  “Don’t worry, already ahead of you. I’ll install all the safety measures I can, and I’ll make sure the motor won’t go over thirty miles an hour. They won’t know; their sight isn’t good enough to see the speedometer when they’re looking through the tops of their trifocals.”

  “I hope the safety measures include a padded suit for each of them, because if they fall, they’re toast,” Mike said. “They’re stubborn, but their bones are brittle.”

  Rachel waved at him. “Bikes with sidecars are surprisingly stable. Although padded suits are a great idea. I’ll check around, see what I can find.”

  Man, no wonder Con’s dad had gotten that competency hearing arranged so fast. He had a lot of material to back him up—and more coming by the sounds of it.

  “Speak of the devil,” Rachel said as some chatter came from behind them.

  Greta, Wilma, and Rebecca reached them.

  “It’s nice to have a full house,” Greta said with an easy smile, patting Con’s shoulder.

  “Girls, the cards,” Wilma said.

  The three grannies rummaged in their purses and presented their grandchildren with three envelopes.

  “All-inclusive weekend-getaway gift cards for the inn,” Rebecca explained. “For couples.”

  “What for?” Mike asked.

  “To get away. It’s romantic. I’ll watch Sam so you and Kyra can have quality time.”

  “We’re helping Audrey with her business.” Greta looked at Con. “Yours is also for a couple, so chop-chop on finding me a granddaughter-in-law.”

  Con almost choked on the beer he was drinking. Rachel and Mike laughed. “I so do not envy you,” Rachel said in commiseration. Then she turned to the OGs. “Should we change the profile in the dating app from me to Connor? It didn’t do squat for me, but he might have better luck.”

  Traitor. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned the OGs. Too late. They were already considering it. He could see it in their faces.

  “What was her name, Daisy?” Greta said.

  “Please. She was my date to prom.” And on-and-off hookup until he went into the military.

  “You were always very popular with the ladies,” Rebecca said.

  Sure, but that Connor didn’t exist anymore. The current one would freak those women out. “No Daisy. No other ladies,” he ordered in a grunt.

  None of the OGs seemed intimidated in the least.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Wilma said. “First things first. Mike, do you think Kyra and Sara would agree to hold some of her dance classes at the inn? Summer’s coming. They could do it outdoors. It would attract visitors.”

  “I don’t see why not. You should ask her, though,” Mike said. “And remember she’ll be touring with Amantis this summer, so it would be mostly Sara doing it.”

  Rebecca beamed. “Say, Amantis always hosts a party with press to kick off the touring season. We could ask Kyra to talk to Alexa. Maybe they could have that party at the inn.”

  “Good idea. Let’s go,” Greta decreed. The three grannies walked purposefully toward the gate in the fence separating the yards.

  “You made a mistake moving in next door,” Con stated in a whisper. Mike just laughed. Yeah, Con had the impression Mike would move into hell if that meant he got to be with Kyra.

  “Oh, and remember the book club,” Wilma shouted to Rachel from Kyra’s side of the yard. “We leave it in your hands.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rachel said, and then explained to the boys, “They want me to convince the girls to move the romance book club meeting to the inn too. They figured we could either rent the conference room or sit by the pool and buy drinks and snacks.”

  “So Audrey is their new project,” Mike sighed.

  “At least this one isn’t four thousand feet in the air,” Rachel added, referring to the latest OG escapade, when they decided to check an item off their bucket list and fly. Which reminded him…

  “Guys, this thing about the bucket list. Is it done?” Greta had asked Connor if he’d agree to parachute in tandem with them, but he’d declined, and that had been the last he’d heard about all that shit.

  Mike and Rachel both scrunched their noses. “We’re not sure,” Rachel said. “The threat of the competency hearing seems to have calmed them down. Then again, you’re back, and they know you’ll never allow your dad to go through with it, so it’s anybody’s guess.”

  Mike nodded. “I vote to raid their rooms and find that damn bucket list. I prefer to know the horror that lies ahead.”

  Connor totally agreed.

  “The OGs blackmailed me into going on dates in exchange for eliminating items from that damn list. Con, it’s your turn to sacrifice yourself for the greater good.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Mike said.

  Ha. Ha. Very funny. “Dream on.”

  “Come on. You might get lucky and not have them insist on choosing your clothes and hairstyle.”

  “Fuck, no.”

  Rachel, laughing, pulled Con and Mike in by their necks for a bear hug. “I’m so happy we’re back together, guys. Oh, wait a sec.” She ran into the house. In less than a minute she was back with a bottle of whiskey cream liqueur and a stack of plastic glasses. “Jackpot. I figured Greta keeps the same stash in the kitchen as Wilma.”

  She passed them glasses and poured them some liqueur. “The OGs do this often. They gather in the evening, sit on chairs in the yard, and sip liqueur. I’ve done it with them many times.”

  “So you basically condone their boozing.”

  “Just boozing?” Mike asked with a sarcastic snort. “She condones everything. Then she calls me to pick up our passed-out grandmas and drive them home.”

  Rachel stuck her tongue out at him and then smiled wide. “My, look at us. We’re the next generation of OGs.”

  Mike cringed. Con did too. “I just got out of the military, which was almost a lifelong commitment,” Con said. “Are you telling me we have to grow old together?”

  Mike and Rachel looked at each other. “Absolutely,” they both said at the same time.

  Rachel grabbed her cell. “Let’s take a selfie for posterity. We’re not behind bars or in a hot-air balloon, like our grandmothers were, but it will have to do. Now, you all raise your glasses and yell LOLO.”

  Man, he’d been wrong. Alden wasn’t as he remembered. It was worse.

  Chapter Three

  Audrey stopped the alarm on her cell. Squinting, she checked the time…3:00 a.m. She wrapped a quilt around herself and, dead tired, left her room. Today she was going to catch that elusive guy.

  She hadn’t seen Con for a whole week. She’d only seen his work. Whether he came very early or very late, her yard was in tip-top shape—though she’d never hired a gardener. Her sprinklers were programmed, and gorgeous roses had been planted in an immaculate bed in her perfectly trimmed and weed-free yard. So now she was going to hunt him down or suffer narcoleptic collapse trying.

  It didn’t take long to find the sneaky culprit. She went around a corner and saw him near the dock, lying on the grass, a power tool by his side. He wasn’t gasping for air. He was humming.

  Audrey walked to him. “If it isn’t my midnight gardener. Cell,” she demanded, stretching her hand out to him.

  “What? Why?” he asked, appearing surprised to see her there.

  She looked at the pruning shears. “And how the fuck are you getting into the barn where all the tools are?”

  “Your locks are shit.”

  Obviously. “Cell,” she insisted, wiggling her fingers. “If you’re going to be working for me, I ought to have a way to reach you. And I need your social security number and your bank details. I can’t pay you much, and I sure as hell can’t pay time and a half for the night shift, but I have to compensate you for your services.”
She needed the inn to succeed, true, but using unpaid labor was unacceptable.

  He offered her his cell but added, “I won’t accept payment. I don’t work for you.”

  “Why?” She caught him looking remorsefully at her exposed throat. There was barely a blemish left. The guy must have supersensitive eyesight. Or a supersensitive conscience. “This? Please, it’s nothing. I already told you. I’ve gotten worse fighting over a skirt on Black Friday.”

  “I could have killed you,” he grumbled, adding, “I can’t be trusted around people.”

  He wouldn’t have killed her. She’d stared into the eyes of real monsters. Con wasn’t one of them. Convincing him of that was another matter. “You wouldn’t have killed me. Besides, I’m trusting you with my plants. And I can’t accept freebies from you.” She was indebted as it was to his grandmother and her friends. “For the well-being of my plants—please save them from me,” she added theatrically.

  He chuckled softly, and she felt ten feet tall.

  “You done for the day?” she asked, dialing her smartphone from his and then returning his phone to him.

  He nodded. “You almost missed me.”

  “That’s my cell number. Send me your details. You bought roses and God knows what else. Those are my bills. From now on, for any purchases on behalf of the inn, please ask them to deliver to me so that I can settle up. You’re just in charge of ordering. Are we clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, obviously agreeing just to shut her up. She could tell when someone was being patronizing, but it was three o’clock in the frigging morning, and she wasn’t up for an all-out war.

  She put down the quilt she’d been wearing around her shoulders and lay beside him. “What are you doing here at this hour?” Was he trying to avoid seeing her? Or was he really there at night because he wasn’t fit to be around people, as he said?

  “Insomnia. You?”

  “Me? No,” she answered, chuckling. “I was just on watch duty, trying to catch a sneaky gardener who, by the way, owes me dinner, remember?”

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  She waved it off. “It’s okay. I’ve been too busy this week, thanks to the OGs, as you call them.”