An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (16 page)

“I’ll call you at midnight,” John said, snuggling closer to me. “We can be bored together over the phone.”

As it turned out, I didn’t have much time to be bored on New Year’s. The crowd at the restaurant was great, and I was kept busy all night, mingling with guests and making sure we had enough appetizers, food, and champagne.

I caught sight of my parents sitting with Emily’s dad and went over to say hi. “Hey, Mr. Donovan,” I said, hugging him.

“Brooke, you look lovely tonight,” he said, and I smiled. Emily’s dad had always been one of my favorite people.

“How was Christmas downstate?” I asked, joining them at their table.

“It was nice to see Emily and Elliot, of course,” he said. “But weird to be in a big city. They hardly had any snow.”

Emily always complained when I referred to her new home as a big city. “It’s a suburb, Brooke,” she would say, exasperated. But compared to our little town in the woods, big city described it pretty well. I was pleased to hear that I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“So, what are you guys chatting about over here?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents exchange a worried glance. My curiosity now piqued, I turned my attention to them.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” my mother said quickly. “We were just talking about business, that’s all.”

If she was trying to get me to butt out, she chose the entirely wrong tack. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well seeing as how I’m the manager of your business, maybe you better fill me in.”

“They were just telling me about the developer that’s interested in the inn,” Mr. Donovan said, trying to smooth things over.

I looked sharply at my dad. “That’s still going on? Are they still harassing you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “They just want to talk. And your mother thinks we should listen to them.”

“You do?” I asked, looking at her in surprise. She looked slightly abashed, but puffed herself up defensively.

“I just think there’s no harm in seeing what they have to say. Your father and I are getting on in years, you know.”

“Yes, but our daughter isn’t,” my dad said firmly. “I didn’t work my whole life for this place just to sell it. I worked so Brooke would have something when we’re gone.”

I felt touched, though I certainly had no intention of running the inn forever. I had never known my dad felt that way. “You want me to have the inn?”

“Of course I do!” he said, looking surprised I even had to ask. “You’re the one who saved it, Brooke. It’s as good as yours already.”

“And all
I
was saying,” my mom said, glaring at my dad, “is that I don’t want Brooke tied into something without having a say. Listening to the developers would just tell us what our options are. I want what’s best for you, dear.”

“I know that, Mom,” I said, surprised by her vehemence. She was usually so mild mannered and sweet. That was the firmest I’d heard her voice since Emily and I got busted sneaking vodka from the bar when we were sixteen.

Before we could discuss it further, Paul appeared at my side. “Sorry, folks, I need Brooke for a minute. We’ve run out of red wine, and I didn’t want to leave the bar to go down to the basement.

“Duty calls,” I said, standing up and patting Mr. Donovan on the shoulder. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too, Brooke,” he called as I headed off in search of a case of merlot. As I went back to work, I did my best to forget about my parents’ discussion. As dead set as my dad seemed to be, I still had a bad feeling about the whole thing. It wasn’t often that my mom put her foot down like that.

The next few hours passed quickly. The bar and wait staff kept me busy running around after odds and ends. There seemed to be a steady stream of friends and guests who wanted to chat with me. By eleven-thirty, I felt about ready for bed, holiday or not.

“Not bad, Murray,” Paul said to me when I finally took a long awaited break at the bar. “I think your party is a hit.”

“I think so, too,” I said, leaning back on the counter and feeling pretty satisfied with myself. I had put a lot of hours into planning this event, mostly when John was at work or with his daughter. It was gratifying to see it turn out so well.

“So, why aren’t you spending the holiday with Mr. Gorgeous?”

I glared at him. “Don’t call him that.”

Paul raised his eyebrows innocently. “Emily calls him that.”

“When have you talked to Emily about him?”

“Thanksgiving,” he said, shrugging. “She wanted all the dirt you weren’t spilling.”

“Dear God,” I muttered. “You’re all getting as bad as my father.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel good to know that so many people are concerned about you?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m so sure that’s it.”

My phone rang, startling me. I glanced down at the screen and couldn’t help but grin when I saw John’s name. “And Mr. Gorgeous calls,” Paul said sarcastically.

Ignoring him, I jumped down from my stool. “Hey,” I said, making my way through the crowd to the lobby to get away from the noise. “You’re early. I thought you were going to call at midnight.”

“I guess I missed you too much to wait,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made mine stretch even farther than it had been from the moment I first saw his name on my phone.

“I guess that’s a pretty good reason to deviate from schedule,” I said, perching myself on the arm of a sofa. “So, how’s it going over there?”

“Every bit as exciting as I had anticipated,” he said, his voice dry. I giggled. “My parents are both in their bathrobes and Lainey fell asleep an hour ago.”

“Oh, poor John,” I said sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Because it gave me a chance to come out to this really cool party instead.”

“What party?” I asked, realizing for the first time that it did sound pretty loud on the other end of the phone; I had assumed the noise was coming from my side.

“Well, there’s a ton of locals here,” he said, and my heart noticeably jumped in my chest. “And a really big fireplace crackling away. And there’s plenty of drinks, even though the bartender is pretty surly.” I laughed and jumped up from the couch, making my way back into the dining room. “But the best part,” John said, “is that the hostess is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Is she now?” I asked, peering through the guests.

“She is,” John said. “Even when she’s frantically searching for someone in a crowded room.”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say I’m frantic.”

“Oh, you look pretty frantic to me.”

“Enough games, buddy,” I said, standing up on my tiptoes. “Where are you?”

“Right here.” I spun around and found myself face to face with him. Letting out a very un-like me happy squeal, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said, my grin so big it almost hurt.

“I’m so
happy
I’m here,” he said, grinning right back at me. “Happy New Year, Brooke.”

“Happy New Year, John.”

I had a feeling it would be. So long as I had John it my life, it really just might be.

Chapter Eighteen

On a freezing Saturday in mid-February, John and I got to enjoy a rare evening out. Lainey had been invited to a sleepover at a classmate’s home. Before he agreed to let her go, John had grilled me on the little girl’s family. I knew of them, her mother working at the bank we used for the inn, and told him honestly that I thought they were fine people. To Lainey’s amazement, he had relented.

“She was so excited,” he told me as we were shown to our table at The Cornerstone. “You’d think she couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

“Sleepovers are a very big thing for little girls,” I told him. “Emily and I used to beg our parents to let us spend the night at least once a month.”

John held out my chair for me as the waiter placed our menus on the table. “And did they let you?”

“Usually,” I said. “My parents liked me to have company since they were working late at the inn so often.” And then Emily’s mom had gotten sick, and they had pretty much let us be inseparable. I didn’t mention that, though, not wanting to think of such sad memories. My time with John was too scarce for that.

I picked up a menu. “The fish here is pretty good,” I told John. “In the summer, they do a fresh-caught option and serve whatever they bring in from the lake that day.”

We both decided on the buttered perch, and John ordered a bottle of wine. I gazed at him across the table as he talked to the waiter, enjoying my view immensely. When the waiter left, John turned his attention back to me, raising his eyebrows at my obvious staring.

“You’re pretty cute,” I said. “Candle light suits you.”

John looked at me with mock-surprise. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Miss Murray?”

I laughed. “Damn straight I am.” The waiter returned with our wine. It was delicious, crisp and cool. I had a feeling it would be perfect with our fish, and felt inordinately pleased that I had found a guy who understood things like wine pairings. Most of the guys I had dated around here probably wouldn’t even drink wine—if it wasn’t beer, they weren’t interested.

“This must be such a change for you,” I murmured, looking around the room. This was probably the nicest restaurant in town, and what a far cry it was from the places he was used to. “To go from Chicago to this.” I shook my head. “You must be going stir-crazy.”

John shrugged. “Not so much, surprisingly. It’s been a nice change of pace so far. I like the shorter hours and having time with Lainey. I do wish there was a bit more culture for her, though.”

“Hey, we have a maritime museum,” I teased. “I know it might not quite be the Field Museum, but it’s not all bad.”

John laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. No, I like the idea of her having the outdoors to play in. I didn’t have that much when I was a kid.”

“I do love that part,” I said. “I won’t even make jokes about it. As much as I complain, I think I’d go a little nuts if I didn’t have trees and green things around me.”

“And the lake,” John added.

“And the lake,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine not having that lake to look at every day.”

“So it’s a trade off,” John said. “I might miss the museums and restaurants of a big city, but there are definite benefits to living out in the woods. This,” he reached for my hand, “is one of them.”

Usually when a guy used cheesy lines like that, I took it as a sign to run far away. But that was the strange thing about John—he actually made me like cheesy.

Our waiter arrived with the food, and we were quiet for a few minutes as we dug in. It really was wonderful—I would challenge any big-city restaurant to do seafood as well.

“So,” John said eventually. “What about you? Is small-town life what you always had in mind? Didn’t you tell me once you had planned to move to a big city?”

“I did,” I said. “That was always my plan for after school. But I had to come home to help out when my dad got hurt.”

“Do you think you’ll stay there, then? Or is the big-city still in your future?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “I definitely want to leave,” I said automatically. “I can’t imagine staying here for the rest of my life.”

John raised his eyebrows. “That surprises me, a little bit. I kind of got the impression you really liked it here.”

I chewed my food for a moment, thinking. “I do,” I finally said. “I love the trees and the water and all the outdoor things you can do around here. But I want…more, I guess. I want something more.”

“What about your job? Does running the inn make you feel satisfied?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really proud of how I’ve turned it around. But it will always be my parents’, you know? Even if they ever fully retire, it will always feel like their place. I’d like to work somewhere that was mine, somewhere I could really make my mark.”

“Would you want your own hotel?”

“I would,” I said. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve always wanted to buy my own little inn or bed and breakfast and renovate it exactly the way I want. A little boutique place, maybe in Chicago or somewhere outside of Detroit. I could offer exactly the kind of amenities I like, organize activities I think are cool, hire a chef who has some actual vision. Oh, and I’d plant lilac trees everywhere. I
love
lilac trees.” I glanced up at him, feeling shy. “Does that sound dorky?”

“Not at all,” he said. “That sounds like a worthy and doable goal.”

That was one nice thing about John; he always seemed so sincere, so matter-of-fact in his praise. I was used to being flattered by men, but I never felt like John was angling for anything.

We finished our meal, and I leaned back in my chair, feeling full. John poured us each another glass of wine. “What about you and work?” I asked. “Are you satisfied with what you’re doing now?”

John’s face clouded over. “I’m not sure,” he said. “To be perfectly honest with you, I had some pretty high ambitions in Chicago.”