So Close Page 2

Luz laughed. “Nope. Hey, did you know the group of four checking in tonight were writers?”

  “Really?” Auburn said, intrigued. “No!”

  “Mmm-hmm. They’re here on a retreat … to write steamy romances.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s so fun! We have to look them up and get their books. That way, I can at least live vicariously.”

  “Amen,” Luz murmured. “Fictional sex is better than none.” She raised an eyebrow in Auburn’s direction. “At least you’re temporarily celibate by choice. Better than from lack of choices.”

  “You never know. Maybe you’ll inspire the next romance. He checks in late at night … you’re on the desk by yourself …”

  “Is that a love story or a horror movie?” Luz teased. “Anyway, you’ll get to meet them at breakfast.” She looked at her watch. “Speaking of which, it’s late! You have to be up in six hours. You should go the fuck to sleep.”

  “I gotta get stuff set up for breakfast so I’m not behind in the morning.”

  Luz shook her head. “I don’t know why you don’t let someone else do breakfast.”

  “You know I love breakfast.”

  “I know you do, babe,” Luz said, smiling. “And everything else about this place.”

  Auburn headed back into the kitchen where she set about prepping everything she could in advance—squeezing the orange juice, cutting the fruit, prepping the dry ingredients for the waffle batter, setting the long dining room table and the smaller tables in the breakfast room. She surveyed the kitchen carefully to make sure she’d done all she could to make her life easier in the morning, then smiled to herself, pleased. She’d made hundreds of breakfasts at Beachcrest during the years she’d worked here—as a teenager, in college, after college—and it never failed to delight her that someone paid her to do this job.

  She turned off the lights and headed to the back corner of the house, letting herself into her room with an old-fashioned metal key—not a key card, because Carl didn’t like or trust anything modern.

  She and Carl both had rooms in Beachcrest. It had been part of the deal he’d made with her when she’d moved back from New York. He wanted her to do full manager duties, but he couldn’t afford the salary he thought she deserved, so he’d given her the smallest room, which also happened to be her favorite. It was a corner room with windows on two sides, and even though neither window faced the ocean, the room was flooded with light during the day and looked out over Beachcrest’s gardens. Thanks to their longtime housekeeper, Sarah, who did double duty as gardener, the gardens rioted with color all summer long.

  Auburn ran her hand over the pretty quilted bedspread, shades of blues and greens, and smiled at the chocolate Sarah had left on her pillow. Sarah didn’t clean Auburn’s room—she cleaned it herself—but Sarah often left her treats.

  There was nothing luxurious about her digs—the room was small, cramped, even—but she loved it more than any place she’d ever lived. And one day, when she saved the money, it would be hers for real.

  She sloughed off her clothes, ran hot water in the claw foot tub, then sank down in the water. Her muscles relaxed, even as her nipples tightened at the contrast between the hot water and the cool air. Usually this was where she let her mind wander—over what had gone wrong and right in the running of Beachcrest that day, over what could go better the next. But for whatever reason, as she luxuriated in her bath, her mind kept going back to her interaction at Bob’s. Trey Xavier, disturbingly attractive in his expensive suit. And even though she knew it was the last thing she should be asking herself, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be doing right now if she’d let her body, and not her better judgment, steer the evening.

  2

  “You’re a million miles away.”

  Trey’s sister, Brynn, watched him from the passenger seat as he turned off 101. He could feel the power of her stare as he drove.

  “Yeah—sorry.”

  “Work stuff?”

  “Yeah,” he lied.

  It was the best of all guesses, but for once, it wasn’t true. He’d been thinking of the woman from the night before. Chastising himself. He’d been impulsive, and he was never impulsive.

  On paper, he’d followed the rules he’d made for himself after Karina had left him: No one he knew. No one near home. No one who might tempt him into commitment or a relationship or—in short—no one who’d ever ask anything of him that would pull him away from his business. He preferred to have sex when traveling and he always made it clear that it was a one-time-only thing.

  On all those fronts, he had nothing to regret. Last night, he’d been in a town far from home, in a bar, and he’d issued a one-night invitation that didn’t pretend to be anything else.

  But he knew that he’d violated the spirit of the law.

  Not because he wanted her. That was harmless and made sense. She was striking and vivid—not his type at all, but hot as fuck all the same. Curls in a riot all over her head, like a kid’s impression of a lion’s mane. Cobalt blue eyes in a face too cute to be pretty. Generous curves packed into a sports top and leggings, and wedge-heeled flipflops. He’d pictured her naked almost from the get-go.

  But that wasn’t why he’d walked the length of the bar to buy her a drink.

  No. He’d done that because she’d helped the waitress.

  His mom had worked two or three jobs at a time when he was a kid. Most often, she waited tables or tended bar, and she’d come home with stories for him and Brynn about what it was like. She’d been invisible to most people and used as a punching bag by others. The ones who treated her well were rare. The ones who went out of their way to make her feel human? Practically nonexistent.

  Translation: Trey had seen something in the curly-haired woman that he could admire, even like. And that was strictly against his post-Karina rules of engagement.

  He was thankful, now, that she’d turned him down. Well, mostly thankful. He kept seeing the expression on her face during the conversation when she’d lit into him about the cologne. She’d been dead right about the cost. And about him, too. He’d be the first to claim the label “asshole.”

  And yet, there’d been something behind her eyes as she did it. Interest. No. Hunger.

  He would have liked to explore it.

  “How much further?” his sister asked.

  There was a childlike eagerness in her voice. He’d promised her a surprise, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who did surprises. Maybe this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stand for her to stay in that rundown rat hole of a house.

  “We’re here,” he said. “More or less.”

  He turned down a side street and slowed the rental car—a disappointing mid-size when he would have loved to spring for the Tesla Model S.

  “Ta-da.”

  She slowly pulled herself out of the car and came to stand beside him on the sidewalk, in front of the newly constructed four-bedroom. There was a realtor sign out front, with a sale pending badge slapped across the top.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “Your new house.”

  Her eyebrows dove together. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s for you and Jacob and Tyler. I put an offer in on it. I vetted it completely. I know the developer. The builder’s very well-regarded. It’s good materials, sturdy construction, all new everything.” And best of all, a ninety-day closing period, so he could mop up his mess, complete the sale of Home Base, and make this purchase.

  There were deep furrows in her forehead. “Why would you do that?”

  He raised his eyebrows at the lunacy of that question. “Because you need a better place to live.”

  “I love where I live, Trey. The boys can walk into town. They can walk to school. When they get a little older they can walk to see Granddad. I love the character and the feel of my home. This place is sterile. And way too big for us.”

  When he’d decided to buy his sister a house
, he’d expected some resistance, but he’d thought it would be more along the lines of empty protest. Like, You shouldn’t have. It’s too much. He hadn’t expected genuine anger and confusion.

  “Your house is a disaster. All the siding on the south side needs replacing. You’re going to have to tear off the deck and rebuild it. The garage is falling down. It’s going to end up costing you a fortune.”

  He could hear his own voice, cool and logical, and he knew: He wasn’t managing to say what he needed to say. Again.

  Brynn threw up her arms. “Not everything is about money! Jesus, Trey! This is crazy! I know you need something to pour your money into now that Karina’s gone, but I can’t be that person!”

  He didn’t move, but something inside him staggered at the blow, and she must have seen it in his face. “Oh God, Trey, I’m so sorry, that was low.”

  “It’s fine. I’m over Karina’s leaving.”

  “It’s not, and you’re not.” She reached out a hand, but dropped it before it touched his arm. He found himself wishing she’d completed the gesture and closed the gap between them.

  He shook his head. “This isn’t about money. That place isn’t good for you. You’ll have to work yourself to death just to get by, and you won’t be able to get ahead because that thing’s a money pit.”

  Brynn turned away from him. She stood looking at the house for a long time. When she turned back, he could see by the set of her jaw that he was in for a fight. “Look,” she said wearily. “For me, this is about getting back on my feet. I broke out of the shitty relationship with Chris, I got a good job that’s actually in my field, I bought a place for me and the boys. Is it perfect? Hell, no. But it’s ours. And I did it. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. He understood the words coming out of her mouth but not why she would turn down the gift he was offering.

  The house stood before them like a reproach. One of five in a cluster of brand new lots tacked on the quiet end of Tierney Bay’s Brideview neighborhood. Peekaboo ocean views. Lots of yard space. Lawns. Two stories, three full baths. Big windows that flooded the interior with light. And she didn’t want it. She’d rather live in that rickety, squat little cottage where she and the boys were in each other’s hair all the time.

  “You really want to help us? Spend time with us. That’s what we need from you.”

  “I—”

  She shook her head. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. They were a soft version of his own. “Jesus, Trey, look at you. You’re like a deer caught in the headlights.”

  He tried to protest, but she waved him off.

  “I know you’re busy. All I’m saying is, you want to help us? Really help us? You can show me and Jacob how to fix the siding and rebuild the deck. You can fly up here every couple weekends and work on it with us.”

  I work on the weekends. He didn’t say it out loud, though; it would just start another argument about how the boys were growing up without getting to know their uncle. She didn’t know; she had no idea what it took to keep his business running. How he had to be always available, always on. And how even if he did everything right, made smart decisions, the rug could get pulled out from under him at any second, and he’d be right back where he started. His heart raced, something it had been doing ever since he’d learned about the bad investment.

  He took a deep breath. No. He was not going to be right back where he’d started. He was not going to let it happen, not on his watch. He was going to do this deal, sell Home Base, and walk away unscathed. And in the meantime, he was going to make sure his sister and her kids were safe and cared for.

  “Just let me buy you the house,” he said. “It will make your life so much easier. So much better, Brynn. I swear it. I’m not going to be able to spend the kind of time you’re picturing to teach you to fix things up at the other place. You have no idea what a time suck that is. An energy suck. It’s better this way. This place is ready-made for you and the boys.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  God, Brynn was as stubborn as he was. Determined, like their mother. They’d inherited the same genes, just taken different roads.

  She crossed her arms. “I won’t accept it. You can withdraw the offer or buy the house and rent it or whatever you want to do. But it’s not for us.”

  She didn’t have to say, and you can’t make me the way she would have when they were kids, playing together in the woods. They both knew it was true.

  She’d won all their fights back then, too. Maybe because he’d worshipped the ground she walked on then. She was four years older and he’d thought she was a goddess.

  Fine. He nodded tightly. “I’ll buy it and rent it. No skin off my teeth.”

  What he meant was, he’d hold onto it until she was reasonable enough to change her mind. She would see. That other place would wear her down. She’d be ready to own this one within a couple of months.

  He’d made the same mistake with Brynn as he had last night—he’d tried too hard. Trey Xavier didn’t beg for what he wanted. He made the deal impossible to resist, then hung back until people came to him. He could do that in this case, too.

  Brynn was looking at him again. “What about the idea of spending some time with the boys and me? At least while you’re here for Granddad?”

  He hated the note of pleading in his sister’s voice. He hated when people wanted more of him than he could give. Like Karina, wanting a night out, a weekend away, an uninterrupted few hours of conversation by candlelight, a piece of him he couldn’t spare.

  But this was different. It was Brynn, and she was asking him to be her family. To be a better brother and a better uncle. That, he could do. Plus, he had gotten good at parceling himself out in packets just large enough to satisfy the demand at hand.

  “I have some time here and there while I’m getting things settled for Granddad,” he said reluctantly. “I can visit for a few hours. But once I finish his stuff, I can’t be back and forth all the time. I’ve got this deal I need to finalize.”

  “Busy, busy, busy,” she said. Her voice was almost teasing. Then she got serious—he watched her face go smooth with it. “But Trey, what’s it all for?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you do it? The work. The money.”

  She sounded like the voice in his head, the one that had started whispering those insidious things after Karina had left. Why? If she’s gone, what’s the point?

  “Because I love it,” he said.

  Her gaze crawled over his face, made him want to squirm. But he held still. Three-quarters of power was keeping your body quiet. Making the other person speak first, move first, act first.

  They stood on the sidewalk side by side and he became aware that their postures—crossed arms, set jaws—were perfect mirrors of each other. He dropped his arms to his side, and Brynn did, too.

  He turned toward the car, then back toward Brynn. “I can look at the siding with you and the boys tomorrow late afternoon. I’ve got a conference call in the morning and I’m going to visit Granddad in the hospital in the early afternoon.”

  Something softened in her face. “Hey.” She reached out again, and this time she did touch his arm. “I haven’t said, thank you for coming. Granddad really appreciates it. And so do I. I know it’s not easy for you to get away from San Fran.”

  “I came to address the business and financial situation.”

  “That’s why you’re here. To—” She quirked her fingers in air quotes. “‘Address the business and financial situation.’”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyebrows went up, and her mouth tilted wryly. She shook her head.

  “You just keep telling yourself that.”

  3

  Auburn stopped at the candy machine on her way to Carl’s hospital room to buy him a few more packets of peanut M&Ms. It wasn’t what the doctor ordered, but she knew her boss, and he’d be going nuts on hospital food. Peanut M&Ms w
ere his favorite guilty pleasure.

  As she reached his room, she saw Brynn—Carl’s granddaughter—coming out with both her boys. “Hey,” Auburn called out. “How’s he doing?”

  “Much better,” Brynn said, relief painted all over her pretty face. “His cheeks are pink and he looks so much more like himself.”

  “So good to hear.”

  “He already has a few packs of those on his nightstand,” Brynn said, smiling at Auburn’s offering. “I think he’s living off them right now. And hey, thank you so much for the casserole. It fed us for two nights.”

  “How are you doing?” Auburn had only really gotten to know Brynn in the last six months, because Brynn had grown up a couple of hours away from Tierney Bay and was ten years older than Auburn. In recent months, though, after Brynn’s marriage had ended, she’d moved to be closer to Carl, and Auburn thought they could grow to be friends. Most of Auburn’s high school and college friends had long since moved away, and she’d drifted apart from the rest while she was in New York with Patrick.

  She couldn’t blame them, but she should do something about that, now that she was back and settled in.

  “Not too bad, since he’s looking perkier,” Brynn said. “And my brother’s visiting from the SF area, which is—well, a mixed bag—.” She cast her gaze up at the ceiling as if pleading for help from above. “—but great for Granddad. He’s headed here a little later after some big, important conference call.”

  “Your brother,” Auburn repeated, surprised. She knew Carl had a grandson, but because he was also older than she was—by six years—he’d graduated college shortly after she started working at Beachcrest and she’d never actually met him. He’d visited Carl only a few times, to her knowledge, and never when she’d been around. Carl didn’t talk much about him, either; the subject seemed to make him uncomfortable. Auburn vaguely knew that he lived in the San Francisco area and ran a super-successful real estate technology company that had made him extremely rich and very busy. And very distant.

  “Yeah. If you stick around more than a few minutes, you might get to meet him. Don’t let him sell you anything. Or buy you anything.”