Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1) Page 13

  “You okay?” I rasped.

  I felt her unsteady breath as her back moved against my chest. “I’m good.”

  Good could mean far too many things right now.

  “Told you, you shoulda worn a cup!”

  I tensed and grunted, remembering we had an audience—an audience who recognized my attraction to this woman.

  “Alright.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus. “You want to hold the mallet up here before you swing.” I moved her arms with mine.

  “That’s not how Mick holds it,” she interjected, tipping her head back almost to my shoulder to look at me.

  Fuck, maybe I did need a sharp swing to the nuts; it would be less excruciating than this.

  Her pink lips parted. A matching rose color blooming in her cheeks. All I could think about was kissing her again. The feel of her mouth against mine. The strokes of her tongue just as bold as the words she spoke.

  “Mick is also three times your size and stronger than the rest of us in this room put together,” I said tightly, willing her to turn back to the wall so she couldn’t see just how painful it was to feel her curves resting against me again, knowing I was touching them but couldn’t touch them. “He’s more likely to hurt the mallet than the mallet is to hurt him.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, hold it up here,” I went on. “Then, when you swing, make sure you use your whole body, not just your arms, otherwise you’re likely to pull something.”

  As I spoke, I slowly moved the mallet toward the wall, pushing on her back with my upper body so she could feel how it was a whole-body movement.

  When we ended, the mallet rested on the wall, and my face was right against her neck. With her hair up, her soft skin was just inches from my lips. I took a deep breath, my mouth watering at the subtle hint of vanilla.

  I was too close.

  She wasn’t wearing perfume. It was her body wash I smelled. Warm vanilla.

  “I think I’ve got it,” she told me as she pulled the mallet to her.

  Before I could step away, she pushed back into me, pressing her ass right into my rock-solid dick, sending sharp stabs of lust into my stomach.

  Dammit.

  “Yeah,” I bit out through locked teeth. “Go slow.”

  With that instruction, I dropped my arms and spun away, stalking over to the twins to put as much space between Laurel and my unruly cock as I could.

  For three hours we worked, and not once did she take a break. Not once did she want to sit or rest her arms. And not once did she ask for help.

  “Alright, we should break for lunch,” I said to the whole group though I was looking at her.

  Mick and Miles agreed, pulling off their gloves, eager for some food.

  But Laurel didn’t stop.

  I nodded to the two men to go, and she didn’t even pause when they left the building.

  “Laurel,” I said her name quietly, placing my hand over hers, stalling her next swing and capturing her attention.

  Her chest heaved with an exertion she clearly didn’t feel, and understanding dawned on me.

  When she swung, she was hitting more than just the wall in front of her; she was demolishing all the obstacles she saw in her way. When she picked up and moved the piles of drywall and debris, she was getting rid of everything she thought was broken and unsalvageable in her life.

  “You okay?”

  “You keep asking that.”

  I gave her a tight smile. “And I’ll keep asking until you want to tell me the truth,” I replied.

  Her eyes popped wide, blinking a few times as she looked around the room and realized we were alone, before her focus finally fell to me.

  She might not want to tell me, but I saw the truth. She wanted to tear this place down because she thought it would set her free.

  “I’m fine, and it is the truth,” she insisted.

  I put my hands up. “Okay, but I’m still going to ask.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Because sometimes the truth changes, Laurel. Sometimes people who were fine become not fine but are too stubborn to say anything.” The words erupted from the raw, wounded place in my chest that housed my guilt over Larry, and their vehemence made us both reel back in shock.

  The mallet landed on the floor with a loud thump, white dust floating up like a cloud.

  “I’m going to get some lunch,” she declared, leaving my comment to drift between us with no response. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  My chin dipped and I remained unmoving until I heard the door close behind her.

  “Dammit,” I breathed out into the silence, wondering how every time I tried to make things better, they somehow ended up worse.

  I ripped down another piece of plaster, groaning as I revealed more water damage to the ceiling.

  Christ, Larry. I told you the damn roof needed to be fixed years ago.

  “There’s still more over here,” I grunted.

  “Damn.” Mick’s curse echoed in reply.

  My head fell, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

  At least Laurel had already left.

  She’d come back after lunch and worked with the rest of us until five. Without a break. And without another word to me except for goodbye.

  Miles had walked her out to her truck while Mick and I finished up.

  “I think this might be the last of it,” I said, letting the last piece of old plaster fall from my hands. I could finally see where the softening and staining of the ceiling ended just a few inches away.

  Heavy footsteps thudded over to me, announcing Mick’s approach.

  “What are you goin’ to tell her?” He looked up at me with concern to where I stood on the counter; it was easier to reach the ceiling this way rather than on a ladder.

  My mouth firmed. “The truth.” I dragged in a heavy breath as I crouched and then hopped off the surface back onto the ground. “It’s going to take at least three weeks to get this cleaned up. I’ve got to get back up on the roof. George has to get out here and square away the pipes.” My arms motioned around to the room that looked like a war zone. “And then we have to put it all back together.”

  He nodded. “Alright. We’ll put everything else on hold until it’s done. We’ll get this taken care of, man. Don’t worry.”

  He clapped a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we stared at the rusted and worn pipes crisscrossing through the walls.

  “Thanks.”

  “Maybe it’ll be better this way,” he suggested with his classic hopefulness. “Give you more time to convince her to stay.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “No?” His eyebrow tipped up to match his grin. “The way you two were lookin’ at each other earlier…” He trailed off as I shot him a silencing glare.

  The last thing that was going to convince Laurel to stay at this point was how she felt about me. If anything, it was only going to drive her away faster.

  We both turned as the door to the coffee shop opened and a large man with a half-shaved head, the rest of his hair pulled back in a tight bun, entered the room and imposed a whole different energy on the space.

  “Eli,” Ace Covington greeted me with a brief nod, his mouth drawn into a characteristically hard line. “Got a minute?”

  The former Navy SEAL was the muscle over at Covington Security, the private security firm he’d opened with his brother, Dex, after they’d both left the military. They took on a lot of high-profile cases, but also a lot of local problems the police put on back-burners in order to deal with all the tourists at Big Sur and the issues that came along with them.

  I nodded and then shot a quick glance at Mick, who waved me off as he finished packing up his things.

  I walked out the back of the building, Ace trailing on my heels.

  “Where’s Laurel?”

  My steps slowed. “Left for the day. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Ace rumb
led, pushing up the sleeves of his black Henley to his elbows as I turned to face him outside.

  Instantly I was on alert. “Did you find out something about the break-in?”

  The fact that nothing had been stolen was what concerned me the most—what concerned all of us the most.

  Whoever had done this hadn’t taken any money nor had they been interested in any of the valuable pieces of equipment in the building. Unless their sole motive was to push an old man past the brink of what he could stand, whoever the culprit was had been looking for something specific, for a specific purpose… a specific plot.

  And the dark coil of fear in my stomach burned with the thought that, with Larry gone, Laurel could be the next target.

  His jaw ticked. “Blackman’s in town.”

  I shoved a hand through my hair, expletives falling unbidden on my exhale.

  Alexander Blackman was the owner of Blackman Brews. He’d approached Larry about purchasing Roasters in the weeks before he died and, when Larry refused, pushed the matter with disrespectful insistence.

  “Has Dex found anything else on him?” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Dex had been looking into Blackman because of how he’d threatened Larry to sell the business. As a former intelligence officer, Dex was in charge of all the tech and information acquisition at Covington. But there wasn’t much to find on the slimy asshole who thought it was good business practice to threaten an old man.

  “Nothing more than what we already know.” He let out a long exhale.

  Dex was able to find out Blackman Brews had been created earlier this year and owned nothing more than a few empty warehouses along the coast and a truck with the name plastered on the side which had been seen around town.

  “It has to be a shell corporation.”

  “Right, but we can’t harass someone with no proof. And even if we did have proof it’s a shell, that doesn’t matter if there’s no crime to tie him to,” Ace ground out. “Look, I want that motherfucker to be guilty as much as you, but it could be a start-up with new angel investors looking to buy a well-known, solid base to jumpstart the business.”

  My fist tightened at my side and I took a few frustrated steps. I didn’t care if he was playing devil’s advocate—or if he had a point—every day that went without answers for the break-in was one more way I’d failed Larry. First to save his business, then, to save him.

  “And what, you think Vandelsen is the investor?” I demanded, scrutinizing him

  While trying to initially locate him, Dex received reports that Blackman was seen at the Rock Beach Resort, possibly there to meet with Laurel’s uncle, Rich.

  Dick.

  “It’s looking more like it now that he’s back there,” Ace revealed. “We’ve been keeping an eye over there in case he showed back up and yesterday, he did.”

  “Talking to Rich?”

  He cleared his throat. “Just staying at the resort is all we can confirm.”

  I grunted, too displeased to say anything. Not with him, but with the situation.

  Blackman looked like the culprit. Acted like the culprit. Hell, he probably smelled like the culprit. But there were too many missing pieces to actively pursue that scenario and confront him, not in the least of which was a very murky motive.

  “Why would he destroy the thing he was trying to buy?” I planted my hands on my hips, shaking my head. If we could just fucking figure that out… “Did he think that would make Larry want to sell it rather than repair it? It just seems like a far fucking stretch for that to be the case.”

  And we both knew it.

  “We’re working on it,” Ace assured me. “And we’re watching him now that he’s back, but I wanted you to know.”

  He wanted me to be prepared.

  “Why did you want to talk to Laurel?” I demanded a little too protectively.

  His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I wanted to ask if she’s been approached by anyone about selling Roasters.”

  “She hasn’t said,” I told him. “But she also hasn’t met with Gavin yet. So, without the signed papers and the deed in her hand, it’s only a close circle who know she’s the one inheriting it all.”

  He grunted, folding his massive arms over his chest. “You should tell her.”

  “About what?” I tossed at him. “A man who might approach her? Who might be responsible but might also just be opening a new business with her family?” I rubbed my hands over my mouth, pacing in front of him. “She’s been through a lot, Ace. Fucking overwhelmed.” My head fell with defeat. “Unless you have something concrete, there’s no point. Best case? She’ll have one more thing on her plate to worry about. Worst case? She’ll go looking and demanding answers where there may not be any, or worse, that may put her in harm’s way.”

  “Eli…” His tone was low with warning.

  “Ace.” My eyes snapped to his. “She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust anyone here right now. Give it a few days. Give her a few days. See what you can find out,” I demanded. “And as soon as she meets with Gavin and the news breaks, I’ll tell her what little we know. Hopefully, by then, we’ll know more.”

  He eyed me steadily for a solid minute before tipping his head and grunting his assent.

  I’d drawn the line. I’d made it clear his job was investigating this sonofabitch. But protecting Laurel? That was mine.

  Laurel

  “Hi, I’m looking for Jules—Julia Vandelsen,” I said to the woman standing at the front desk in the Rock Beach Resort. At her wary look, I added, “I’m her cousin, Laurel Ocean.”

  She seemed to relax a little bit at that and excused herself into a back office.

  I needed a break. From the house. From Roasters. From everywhere that reminded me of all the things I couldn’t have. My family. My pap. My home. Eli.

  My stomach fluttered.

  For two days, I’d helped them tear down the walls at Roasters. Muscles I didn’t even know I had ached with the effort I’d used to try and distract myself from the memories those walls held.

  But if that wasn’t enough of a battle to fight, I had to contend with my traitorous body wanting to cross enemy lines in search of a certain stubborn contractor. Every lingering look. Every brush of his hands. Every offer to help, and every show of concern. For as many old memories as I tore down in that space, he filled them with new ones.

  And all I knew was I wanted to kiss him again—the man who’d met my grandfather by stealing from him.

  The man with all the answers.

  A slight smile pricked at the corners of my mouth as I shivered. Even now, the scent of his subtle wood-chipped musk lingered in my brain and sent a warm tingle up my spine.

  A woman brushed against my shoulder, her Chanel No. 5 so potent it choked me back to the present.

  Thoughts of the past and Eli were dangerous for different reasons on the surface, but at the center, the threat of loss was the same if I didn’t keep my distance. So, since my meeting with Mr. Ross this morning had been pushed back until next week because he had a family emergency, I decided it was safest to come here.

  To see Jules.

  I took another look around the lobby of the golf resort. From the fountain at the entrance to the huge gilded mirrors and thick plush midnight blue carpet speckled with small white dots covering the lobby, I was glad I’d chosen the other suit I’d brought with me because, my other option of jean overalls and a tee would’ve really made me stick out like a sore thumb among the pastel plaid and country-club-white pants.

  A group of young men walked by and my eyes immediately caught the small polo player logo on their shirts. Spring 2018. Summer 2017. Summer 2016. If I had more time, I could probably remember the name and exact color of each Ralph Lauren polo they wore. That was what happened when you’d worked at the same company for almost seven years with hardly any social life—spotting styles in the wild became a favorite pastime.

  Chewing on the corner of my lip, I turned back to the counter a
s the woman reappeared. With another look, I was pretty sure she was wearing a blouse from our Women’s Spring 2016 line; I didn’t work with that department, but I remembered trying to coordinate with the bold stripes they’d chosen for that season.

  “Miss Vandelsen will be right down,” she informed me tightly. “However, she has a meeting in thirty minutes.”

  I nodded, only rolling my eyes as I turned away from her. It was the weekend and her—our—grandfather had just died… The funeral was only last week for crying out loud. Maybe Uncle Rich could cut her some slack.

  But I couldn’t judge; everyone grieved differently. Maybe working helped her cope. Just like leaving home had helped me.

  Looking down, I huffed and rubbed over the dirt mark on the front of my pants. Stupid truck. It had given me trouble when I went to start it this morning, only this time, the evil scowl I’d given to the engine bay had me stepping away with scuff marks on the front of my pants.

  Truck, one. Laurel, zero.

  “Laurel?” I looked up from my frantic rubbing to see Jules gliding toward me.

  Today, she wore wide, white dress pants and a matching long-sleeve sheer blouse over a white tank, topped with a sweater tied over her shoulders. Immediately, I noted her hair was pulled back the same way as before—low and tight on her neck, and her face shrouded with makeup and an equally concealing placid expression.

  She was beautiful—the perfect model for women’s resort fashion, a striking mix of modern style and old-world class—and she looked like she was exactly where she belonged; the perfect princess for this resort palace. But, I’d been around enough models to see beyond the mask, and I’d known Jules for long enough to recognize the weight propelling her measure steps and the sadness highlighted in her eyes.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

  “Hey,” I greeted her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders for a hug that turned her body to stone against me. “Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to just… run out on you like that the other day.”

  Her eyes darted to either side of us like she was concerned about who was watching or listening before she cleared her throat and gave a small nod over to the entrance. I fell in alongside her as she walked with her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach.