Until Tomorrow (Boot Creek Book 3) Page 3

  Ford settled into his regular seat. Missy set a shot in front of him. She nodded to the foursome at the table across the way. “Jack Daniel’s from over there.”

  “Thanks, Missy.” He tossed it back and set the empty shot glass back on her tray. “Can you bring me another beer, please?”

  “I’m on it, handsome.”

  The whiskey mellowed him. Being pretty much snowbound through the winter had its advantages. But he was over spending nights alone. Not that he had to be alone, but having someone in his bed he had no intention of keeping there had gotten old a long time ago. He longed for someone to share the dream with. To plan, to collaborate with, build a family with. Someone to laugh at his more stupid ideas, and high-five and hug him for the good ones.

  The house had been a high-five idea even if he didn’t have anyone to share it with. Yet.

  “You selling your place?”

  “Just a rumor.” Ford spun around. “Junior. How’ve you been?”

  “Great. Business is good,” said the wiry man. Junior might’ve been his name, but he had to be at least seventy years old. His shock of gray hair always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, even on Sunday morning in church. “Heard you were leaving town.”

  “Just a month. I’ll be back.” This was already getting old.

  “Damn. I’d give up my storefront to buy that place of yours.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ford said. He’d invested in a nice property up on good, high land with decent roads. Three years he’d bartered with friends to get that place just right. Junior had done three carvings for him, including the front door that had taken him almost a year to complete. “All that’s missing now is the perfect woman.”

  “No such thing, Ford. You gone crazy or something? A woman will just ruin that place.”

  “I don’t think so.” When he’d been offered the artist-in-residence spot in North Carolina, he hadn’t had any intention of accepting it. Giving it a couple of days to not insult them, he’d been surprised when he’d been inundated with dreams of the long-legged girl he’d met last summer at his old school pal Jackson’s wedding in Boot Creek. She’d snuck into his dreams and then into his daytime thoughts.

  He still remembered the moment he laid eyes on Flynn Crane. He’d been thirteen hours overdue for sleep after one long layover in Denver to get to North Carolina. Hungry and exhausted when she started talking about home-cooked breakfast, he’d thought she was flirting and talking about the morning after. Even tired, he hadn’t found that a bad proposition, because damn, she’d looked fine.

  His ego had taken a blow when he realized all that talk was because she was the innkeeper where the wedding party was staying, and the bride’s best friend. Couldn’t love and leave the bride’s best friend. So he’d tucked that attraction away.

  But once it had reignited, he found himself considering the residency. It had been a good offer.

  And he hadn’t been able to shake the memories of how her hair had smelled, how her fingers tapped his when he danced with her. How her every curve looked perfect under the satiny bridesmaid dress.

  Rather than the polite no-thank-you to the folks out at PRIZM, he found himself plotting and planning that trip to North Carolina and the possibility of bringing Flynn Crane back into his life.

  He took a sip of his beer and shook his wandering mind back to Junior who was still rambling on.

  “Guys outnumber the girls plenty around here. Finding one who isn’t taken is hard. And the ones that are available aren’t the type you want anyways.”

  Ford laughed. It sounded harsh, but it was pretty accurate. “Junior, you’re getting cynical, man.”

  “Truth hurts.”

  Five years had flown by. He liked wintering in Alaska. There was no place quieter that he’d ever found. The only improvement he could imagine would be having a special woman to share it all with. Back in Nashville during their college days together, Jackson had been one heckuva wingman. Hopefully, being married to Angie hadn’t ruined that skill for his best friend.

  “Mm-hmm,” Junior said. “That long pause just then. I know what that means. Means you’re thinking you’re going to bring back a woman. I know that look.”

  What was it with people? Did he have an I-need-to-get-laid label stuck to his forehead or something? “You’re just looking for something to talk about.”

  “I’ll put a hundred bucks on it right now that if you bring some mainlander back, she won’t stick around.”

  “Oh, I’ll take that bet.” Ford stuck out his hand. “If I do bring someone back, it’ll be for all the right reasons.” And saying it out loud gave it life.

  Missy swept past him with a tray of drinks. “Hope you’re going to come back. I kind of like having you around here.”

  “Not you too,” he said. “You know me. Why would you even say that?”

  “Because we’ve seen it so many times before.” She placed the drinks in front of the guys telling fish stories just behind him. They never stopped talking. “And as good looking as you are, someone will snag you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Your dear husband said the same thing.” It bothered Ford that the locals still thought of him as temporary around here. He’d been here long enough that he considered this home.

  Missy turned and blew him a kiss as she skittered past in the other direction.

  What the heck did that mean? Ford shrugged his shoulders and turned back toward the bar.

  Missy and Chet were about as different as Alaska and Florida, but somehow their relationship worked. She bubbled with life in her compact five-foot frame, and Chet’s moose-sized body was filled to the brim with a dry-witted humor that swung from funny one day to cranky the next, making you wonder sometimes if he might end it all and not open the next day. But the Manic Moose Saloon was open every day no matter the weather.

  Missy swung around the end of the bar with an empty tray and patted Chet on the tush as she passed behind him. Chet gave a playful grunt that sounded more like a horny hog.

  “I’m not one of your statistics. I’ll be back,” Ford said. He tapped two fingers on the bar for another round.

  “Whatever you say, man.” Chet raised a bottle and gave Ford a generous pour, then leaned over the bar. “You decide you’re not coming back, you’ll get one helluva price on that place of yours. People ask me about your place all the time. I could sell that place in a week.”

  “Just finally got it fixed up the way I want it. Why would I leave that now?”

  “Not everyone is cut out to live here. You fit in like you’re one of us, but that’s unusual.”

  “Don’t see why. This place gives me more in return every day than I could ever hope for. The beauty. The people. The inspiration. The solitude. It becomes a part of you.”

  “Gets in your blood. I know what you’re saying, but my Missy has a good eye for what’s going on with people. I swear she can tell when a man is ready to settle down, and she’s always right about it. Kind of witchy freaky when you think about it.”

  “I think all women think they have that gift,” Ford said with a laugh.

  “No. I’m serious. She said just last week that she thought you were going on that trip of yours to rekindle a flame, that’s why I brought it up.”

  He didn’t say anything. What could he say? She was right. Sort of. He hadn’t met a prettier girl than Flynn—her long legs and flowing blonde hair made him think of beautiful mermaids in the sea.

  “Love ain’t enough to make a woman fall in love with this lifestyle.”

  “It’s a good life.” He wasn’t sure he bought that line of thinking. Love was love, and it didn’t have to be in the city limits.

  A blast of cold air rushed through the bar as the guys off the fishing boat Katie’s Ring came filing in one by one, shouting obscenities; the fishermen rolled in like high tide on a full moon. So many greenhorns made their way as far as this town to hop on boats in hopes of quick, easy money, but most found
out quickly just how unforgiving the ocean was. And working it wasn’t for sissies.

  Trash talk about their Pacific salmon haul tonight being better than the others set the bar humming. That kind of smack could get a greenhorn in a fight in a hurry, as if Captain Andrew’d ever hire one. Seasoned fishermen didn’t have much of an appetite for newbie braggers who basically stole from their potential take. Andrew amped up the volume as he ordered a round of drinks for the house.

  Chet’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile. “Case in point.”

  Folks around here loved Andrew. It was uncanny timing that he’d been the one to walk in just then. His breakup with Katie had been the talk of the town for a solid year. That Jersey girl he’d brought home after a week in Vegas had been driving him nuts with all of her nagging and neediness. When he finally got the balls to cut her loose, he used the money he’d saved to spend on her engagement ring to put toward the fishing boat of his dreams. Being married to the sea seemed to be suiting Andrew just fine. And the men on his fishing vessel were more like family than most.

  If Ford was wrong about Flynn then he might end up with a boat himself called Could’ve Been Married the size of a cruise ship.

  But he wasn’t into those high-maintenance girls who spent all their time getting their nails done and shopping. His picture-perfect mate was the girl next door. The one who would throw her hair in a ponytail and a ball cap to get the day started, like Flynn when she’d been zipping around that bed and breakfast. Jackson had even made a comment about her being a good match for him. He should’ve paid more attention to it while he was there.

  Now he was stuck thinking about how her pretty long legs would’ve felt wrapped around him on a cold winter’s night.

  He still wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to manage seeing her without flat-out telling Jackson. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted.

  Ford: Will Be In Your Neck Of The Woods Wednesday.

  Jackson: Here? North Carolina?

  Ford: Took The Artist-In-Residence Gig.

  Jackson: Great. We’ll Pick You Up.

  Ford’s lips twitched. Angie had been eager to introduce him to Flynn last year. He hoped like heck she was still in a matchmaking mood.

  Ford: Was Going To Rent A Car For My Stay.

  Jackson: Don’T Bother. You Can Drive My Old Truck. Send Your Flight Info.

  Ford: On It. Thanks, Man.

  And just like that, the possibilities of tomorrow felt a bit like the Northern Lights: unpredictable, but bright and worth the wait.

  Chapter Three

  Flynn sat at the desk and updated the long list of to-dos. To her credit, it wasn’t a list, exactly. No, she used a pretty high-tech spreadsheet with pivot tables, so she could sort by type of repairs, cost, and priority.

  She adjusted the priority on the few things that would get this place back up and open for business. She needed guests, and that meant she needed the plumbing finished in the suites, pronto. The new toilets for all three bathrooms upstairs had been bought months ago. Brandon had taken all three of the working toilets out of the house that day but had never gotten around to installing the new ones. Guests would forgive a dripping faucet, but there was no getting around not having a pot to pee in. No matter how old the house was, a chamber pot was not a charming feature.

  Install all three new toilets.

  Replace faucet and showerhead in Blue Ridge Retreat bathroom.

  Fix leaking sink in Crane Suite.

  Finish the flooring in the third bathroom.

  Things like upgrading the heat and air system and installing new windows would pay for themselves over time in energy efficiency, but they could wait for a while.

  Turning her lengthy to-dos into ta-daas seemed like a daunting undertaking, but it didn’t take her more than twenty minutes to have the tasks recategorized and prioritized into a doable plan. When her grandparents had handed over the reins to Crane Creek Bed and Breakfast, it was because they wanted to keep it in the family. They’d trusted her, and that had given her a renewed purpose after the unexpected pink slip.

  Rich and Suzy Crane would never have left to travel the country had Flynn not gotten laid off from the consulting firm when she had.

  She’d driven up from Charlotte that night, not really knowing what else to do under the circumstances. She’d expected a little commiserating and a good you-can-do-it speech from Granpa. Instead, they’d talked about dreams and her future, and the next thing she knew they were writing up an agreement for her to take over Crane Creek Bed and Breakfast.

  Everything had fallen right into place. She’d transferred a large chunk of her savings to them as the down payment. A month later she was in business, and they were packing up a manageable-sized RV to live out their golden years doing whatever they wanted, wherever the mood struck them. First stop, Florida for the winter.

  There was a lot more to running a bed and breakfast than she’d given her grandparents credit for. Despite their warnings, she’d thought it would be like endless entertaining. Nope—it was a lot of preparation and constant upkeep, and her years in the corporate world weren’t much help. But Flynn loved it. She truly felt it had been her calling all along.

  She lowered the screen on her laptop, noticing the date on the calendar to her right.

  Friday after next was circled in bright red.

  Because her grandparents had been worried Flynn hadn’t known what she was getting herself into, they’d insisted on an escape clause in their agreement. Friday after next was the date they’d revisit the situation and roll back or continue with the purchase.

  Until just a few weeks ago, she’d thought it was a ridiculous suggestion that she might reconsider. But lately, with all of the repairs needed and then the mismatch with Brandon, maybe it wasn’t so crazy.

  Can I handle all of this by myself?

  Could I really leave all of this?

  Going back to work would be so much easier.

  But the plan I just rearranged is doable. Completely doable.

  Flynn leaned back in the big leather chair and stretched. It made her tired just thinking about all the things that needed to be done around here.

  Her phone rang, and her heart hitched at the familiar ring tone.

  Speak of the devil. Brandon.

  She reached for the phone then yanked her hand back.

  No.

  With the mounting list of repairs in front of her, it would be even harder to resist him. There wasn’t one thing on her list he wasn’t capable of doing.

  But if Brandon had really been trying to help me, he’d have had this whole list knocked out months ago.

  She turned her phone over, letting the call roll to voice mail.

  Trying to steel herself against listening to his message, she raised the screen of her laptop and logged into her online banking account. The numbers depressed her. Her checking and savings accounts had begun to dwindle over the last two months since she’d had to close off reservations, and her investments portfolio had taken a beating the past quarter too.

  It was bad timing.

  She had to invest in the B&B even if that meant spending most of her savings. Even if she took the escape clause route, she surely couldn’t return the place in worse shape than when she got it.

  Yet she’d always pictured raising a family in the town where her mom had grown up. Where she herself had spent the best days of her own childhood. But she’d dated just about every eligible bachelor in town and no one seemed right. Maybe her dreams for a family weren’t meant to be. Maybe this place was all she’d ever have. Was that really so bad?

  There were worse situations.

  Her phone rang again. The area code was from back in Charlotte. Was Brandon calling from someone else’s phone? If he was trying that hard, the least she could do was answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Flynn. It’s Darcy. How have you been?”

  Flynn’s posture sagged. Had her hopes danced that quickl
y at the chance Brandon might be trying to rekindle their spark? Stupid. That’s what that was. Just plain stupid. “I’m great.” Big fat lie, but she wasn’t about to tell her old boss that.

  “Things are great here too. We just took on a huge project. We need someone just like you. You tired of playing house yet?”

  Flynn laughed politely. “I’m not sure you’d ever be able to afford me, Darcy. I know all the dark, dirty secrets. Remember?”

  “I know. That’s exactly why I need you. If my money is right, are you available?”

  “That’s the cart before the horse, don’t you think?”

  “Not really. I budgeted enough to woo you back.”

  Now that sounded tempting. “Things are pretty amazing with the B&B. I can’t even imagine leaving this, but I’m listening.” Flynn could picture her mom’s frown at the lie. It was only a half lie though. Business had been great, until it wasn’t. There were just a lot of things to fix. Okay fine, just two minutes ago she’d been imagining leaving it all behind. Mom never had approved of lies of any color or size. Little white lies were still lies in Mom’s book. She glanced heavenward and nodded a silent apology.

  She listened to Darcy’s offer, and the details of the project. It was a temporary assignment. Six to ten months tops with a bonus for delivering early. She’d completed this type of project dozens of times. It was totally in her wheelhouse.

  Ten minutes later Flynn sat at the desk feeling more torn than ever. The number that Darcy had rolled out was a good thirty percent higher than Flynn would have asked for. Plus, they’d pay for a corporate apartment so she could commute back and forth to Boot Creek on weekends if she wanted.

  When they’d laid her off, after the dedication and endless hours she’d put into making her project successful, it had stung. And Darcy’s response hadn’t helped either. “Nothing personal,” Darcy had said. “It’s simply a head-count exercise.”

  Could she ever trust them again after that? It was why the B&B had been so attractive. She wouldn’t have to work for anyone else. She had complete control of her future.