Beholden: A Small-Town Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 1) Read online

  “Thank you,” I said, gently.

  I knew what Larry Ocean was to this town. I knew what the Oceans were to this town. They were the family that made everyone—locals and visitors alike—feel like they were coming home every time they stepped into Roasters.

  But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? They were family but no longer. First my parents. Now my grandfather. The idea of our family became just as spread out and diluted as a few coffee beans dropped in the ocean.

  “Do you want me to make you a coffee?”

  I shook my head even though I could have used one. I was afraid—afraid of what might happen if I drank the coffee from here, like it would be made of magic beans that could change my mind. “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, well I was just finishing up a few things in the back, if you need anything.” She ducked her head.

  The back was obviously just a safe space for her to let out the tears she’d been trying to hold back for my sake.

  “Thank you,” I said as Diane reappeared at my side before I could.

  “Hello, Eve,” she quickly greeted the other woman quickly as Eve left us alone. “Laurel, were you listening to anything I said?”

  She wasn’t scolding, she was pleading.

  “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “Don’t apologize,” she blubbered and pulled me in for a hug I wasn’t expecting, engulfing me against her generous chest which is about where my head fell given how much taller she was than me especially with those heels. “I was just hoping that when you saw it, that you’d reconsider your plans. You know, for your grandfather’s sake.”

  I jerked back, shaking my head ‘no.’

  I didn’t know what she thought was going to happen—that I would walk in here and remember all of the good times, all the days I’d played here with Jules or sat with my parents after church, snacking on a fresh blueberry muffin, or the times that my grandfather sat me on the counter and let me take peoples’ orders while he made coffees—and decide to stay.

  No.

  I walked in here and saw how I’d lost all of that just as surely as Roasters had lost its furniture and pictures and mugs and plates. This place was nothing more than a monumental tombstone to all my losses.

  “Diane, I’m sorry, but I can’t—” I had no idea what explanation I’d been about to give her, but whatever it was, was cut off by the wonky twang of the bell as the front door opened and a very large man walked in who looked so familiar.

  A second later, his twin, my Friendly Giant, followed right behind him.

  “M-Mick?” I croaked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  “Hello again, Miss Laurel,” he said with a half-smile, pulling off his worn ballcap and tipping his head down in greeting to me. “If you remember my brother, Miles.” He nodded to the more stoic-looking, less mountain-like man next to him.

  “Ma’am,” Miles said with the exact same twang and the exact same nod.

  “Nice to meet you,” I murmured quietly. “What are you doing here?” I looked to Diane on one side of me and then back to the twin pillars of Southern charm on the other.

  “Well.” Mick paused to clear his throat. “We were told to head on over here to re-assess what work needs to be done to get Roasters back and ready to rodeo. Been tryin’ to get in here for months just to do minor maintenance, but your grandpa… he was as stubborn as a mule—and we had mules on our farm growin’ up, Miss Laurel, so I’d venture to say he was more stubborn.”

  He let out a sad laugh because even good memories hurt. I knew that. I could have warned him.

  “Larry kept insisting that everything was fine. And then the break-in happened. They let us clean up some while the police investigated, but then Larry…” He ducked his head in quick reverence. “Anyways, we’re here now to put this place to rights.”

  “I appreciate that,” I drawled slowly. “But I’m not sure I’ll be needing your help. I plan on selling the whole building and business.”

  Mick took a step back, his large frame shuddering. Meanwhile, his brother turned away to hide a curse that still echoed loud and clear.

  I heard a gasp and a quick glance over my shoulder revealed Eve who’d made her way back into the front of the shop to greet the new arrivals only to walk into my blunt statement.

  “Of… of course, you can do what you want to do, Laurel,” Diane chimed in, trying to diffuse the bomb I’d leveled the entire room with. “I asked them to come.” Her hand came up to rub my arm like I was the one trying to convince someone to do something they didn’t want to do. “Well, I asked Eli if they could all meet us here to take a look. I thought maybe if you saw the place, that you’d want to fix it up first, and then decide…”

  I struggled to hold back a groan.

  “To be frank with you, Miss Laurel,” Mick began, running his hand along the brim of his hat that was bent in his hands. “There’s a lot of work to be done here and not just to spruce it up after the whole break-in business. Ash managed to replace half the roof with some help a few months back, but that was only after there was a major leak in the back. The other part of the roof is still leaking.”

  He let out a long exhale as he pointed to the wall that had previously held all the photos. With a second look, I realized that there were some stains running down from the ceiling where a faint, irregular brown rim suggested consistent water damage over a long period of time.

  As I dragged my gaze back over to the group, I couldn’t help but notice how Eve was staring at me, wide-eyed underneath the huge rims of her glasses like I’d just ripped her heart out by announcing my intention to sell the coffee shop. I wanted to scream that whoever bought it would surely want to fix it and keep it.

  Why did no one seem to understand the price I would pay by staying here?

  A small voice inside my head replied, Because no one here really knows you, Laurel, and that was how you wanted it.

  “Dollars to donuts, Miss Laurel,” my Friendly but not-so-favorite Giant at the moment continued, “as soon as I get in there, underneath the drywall, I’m going to have to look at replacin’ the framin’ and probably the electrical, too.”

  I tried to swallow down the truth that was quickly becoming evident to me: for as long as I’d neglected Carmel and my grandfather, so had he neglected the upkeep on Roasters.

  “I see,” I replied with a tight smile. “But I’m sure that will be disclosed to the buyer and then you can work with the new owner to fix it.”

  The door dinged again and just like the smell of coffee jump-started my memory, the presence of him ignited my heart. I knew it was Eli before my eyes made it to him.

  My inescapable complication.

  “Unfortunately, that’s not going to be possible, Laurel,” he drawled with a hoarse voice, his shadowed gaze catching mine.

  This place affected him. Me in this place affected him.

  “Oh, Eli. I’m so glad you’re here,” Diane said softly with relief.

  I didn’t respond to her, instead crossing my arms over my chest, I shifted my weight on to one leg and raised my chin up in challenge. “Why not? Mr. Ross seemed to think that would be fine earlier.”

  Okay… that was a little bit of a stretch. He said I would be fine to sell it, he didn’t say anything about having the repairs done beforehand.

  “Mr. Ross isn’t a realtor,” Eli drawled as he walked closer to me.

  “But you’re qualified to make that judgment?” I gaped, the words flying out before I could stop them.

  Sure, he’d helped my grandfather, but that didn’t mean he knew anything about buildings or selling them…

  “Well, I’m a contractor,” he replied, his eyes dancing. “So, yes, I would say it’s my job to make those judgments.”

  Dammit.

  Even my size five foot was still a mouthful.

  I hadn’t known what he did—aside from holding everything about this place together. My eyes roamed quickly over him, seeing him in a new, frustratin
g light as more perfect pieces of him clicked into place.

  Today, he wore a long-sleeve white t-shirt and what looked like work jeans with the way there were paint stains and a few worn patches on them. Strangely, it made him look no less like a model, only now instead of suits, he was modeling the latest in painter chic. Like Clark Kent—if Superman had masqueraded as a carpenter instead of a reporter.

  I bit back a groan as my whole body warmed. My boss would have a field day with the look.

  Stay rational, Laurel. This wasn’t his call either.

  “That doesn’t—”

  “And he isn’t an inspector,” he continued firmly right over my protest. “I will tell you right now, with the water damage in this building, and the old electrical running through it, there is no way that the shop will pass California’s pre-sale building inspection.”

  As he spoke, he pointed around to more spots behind me, behind the espresso machine and the pastry counter that I hadn’t noticed. “You’d have a better chance of California falling into the ocean before you find an inspector willing to risk his license to sell this building in the state it’s in.”

  As he spoke, the pebble that had been skipping across the surface of my stomach inflated into a rock and sank like a boulder.

  Everyone else faded from the room and all I saw was the dilapidated remains of my larger-than-life yet all-too-tragic past coalescing into handcuffs around my heart. I knew if I came back here this would happen.

  I knew this town wouldn’t just let me come and go in peace.

  I must have swayed where I stood because the next thing I felt was the small burst of heat from where Eli’s hand wrapped around my upper arm, his other gently resting in the small of my lower back.

  “It’ll be okay, Laurel,” he said roughly, as I turned to stare blankly up to him. He didn’t know but it would never be okay. “We’ll fix everything up to code, and then you can sell it if that’s what you want.”

  That phrase made me nauseous, especially while I tried to sort through the thoughts in my head—the task like trying to filter through a jar of sand looking for one specific crystal.

  Shaking my head in denial, I pulled away from him, wrapping myself with my arms like some sort of shield.

  Fine.

  If I needed to fix this place up, then that was what I would do. But just because it needed to be fixed, didn’t mean any of them had to be involved.

  “Well, then I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” I said firmly, making sure my chin was held higher than my hopes because I knew that my chances of making it out of Carmel without more damage to my heart were slim. In fact, if my past was any indication, it was more so guaranteed.

  “Thank you for your help, Eli,” I said smoothly, taking my hands and planting them on my hips. “But I think Mick, Miles, and I can handle it from here.”

  I looked over at my friendly giant just in time to see his eyes widen as he began, “Oh, no, Miss Laurel—”

  My chest constricted.

  “Laurel,” Eli spoke softly, stepping in between my betrayed look and its victim. “I’m here because I was the one who took stock of everything before Larry… passed… I’m the one who called those guys because they work for me; they’re my carpenters.”

  No, no, no.

  This. All this, right here, was what happened to me in this town at every single turn.

  It wasn’t enough I’d inherited a business laden with heartbreak. It wasn’t enough that business was housed in a building too run-down for me to even be able to legally sell until it was fixed. No, it had to come to this… where Mr. Model Magic —the stranger who’d carried me home from the bar, the man who I’d puked all over—twice—and then accused of trying to take advantage of me, the man who looked like he wanted nothing more than to take care of me… that very man was the one in charge of the only thing standing between me and my freedom from Carmel Cove.

  He was also the man who made my body light up like Clark Griswold’s house in Christmas Vacation… twenty-five-thousand twinkling tingles burning with enough desire to take out the whole block.

  I shuddered violently and stepped back.

  My pap… my parents… always used to say how this town was healing. That, in spite of the influx of tourists, Carmel was a place that healed those who came to live here. I wondered if all that healing came at my expense—at my hurt.

  At my heart.

  “And what if I decide I don’t want to use you or them?” I asked softly so only Eli, who’d shielded me from the rest of the group, could hear. “What if I want to find my own contractor?”

  “You’re welcome to do that,” he said roughly with a quirked smile, and I knew I’d lost the argument before he even continued speaking. “But I worked in this coffee shop for years before I started my business, and I’ve been in here almost every day for the past year helping Larry. I’ve already assessed the damage. I know where every problem area is going to be. You want to hire someone else? By the time they get out here and then take the time to get the list that I have, you’re looking at least another month and a half before any renovations even begin.”

  Shit.

  “And I’ll tell you this, too.” He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder at the brothers before leveling me with a serious, steadfast stare. “Your grandfather did a lot for me—for everyone here—so everything we do, we don’t do for money, we do for him. You hire someone else, you’re going to have to pay them and, for a project of this size, you’re looking at close to thirty grand, if not more,” he informed me calmly. “So, by all means, if you want to waste more time and money—go for it. But if you want it done and you want it done right, then you’re going to work with me.”

  I held his gaze for a few seconds, not trusting myself to say anything at first.

  “Well, I very much appreciate it,” I finally choked out. “You’re welcome to get started on what you need but I’d like to be kept informed of what you plan on doing and what you find.”

  I wondered if everyone else felt the wave of relief that rippled off of him like I did.

  “Of course,” he murmured. “We’ll finish up here and then get started first thing Monday morning if you want to stop in we can go over what needs to be accomplished and how long it will take. If there is anything else—”

  This time I cut him off with a hand and a smile that didn’t reach where it should have. “Thank you, but it’s been a long day.” I stepped to the side so I could meet Diane’s eyes, adding, “I think I’d just like to go home and get some rest.”

  As soon as I saw her semblance of a nod, I murmured a quick goodbye and fled out into the cool, fall air.

  No one else might, but with each step back to Diane’s car, I heard the clank of chains around my ankles,

  I was obligated to the town to sell the business to someone who would keep it running.

  I was obligated to the new owner to fix it up—to restore Roasters to what it was before my world crumbled.

  And now, I was obligated to my too handsome contractor who was doing it all for nothing.

  Even if I wanted to use someone else, I couldn’t. Sure, I had some savings but not nearly the kind of capital required to fix Roasters; I did well but not that well. And I couldn’t justify the expense out of stubbornness when Eli would do it for nothing.

  My stomach knotted and I flipped the door handle to realize the car was still locked and Diane was still inside the shop making her goodbyes.

  With a heavy sigh, I sagged carefully against the side of her old red mustang. My head dropped back to see the darkening clouds above me, moving quickly over the whitewashed sky.

  He’d said they were doing it for him—for my grandfather. I knew my pap. I wasn’t surprised to know he’d helped a lot of people since I’d left. I knew how much it had hurt him to know he couldn’t help me. But Eli looked at me as though it wasn’t the only reason he was offering to help.

  I shuddered and crossed my legs. I didn’t
know what he did to me… I was attracted to him, but there was something else he made me feel, something that the protectiveness and concern in his eyes managed to get under my skin and into my soul—and that something had me pushing him away out of instinct because that something was the kind of thing this town liked to take from me.

  Cruelly. Unexpectedly.

  And without a hope of ever fully healing.

  Please, don’t let this take any more from me.

  As though sensing my desperate plea, the heavens opened up and released a deluge of cold irony.

  To save this place, it wouldn’t cost me anything. And, at the same time, it could cost me everything.

  Eli

  “What are we going to do?” Diane murmured as soon as Laurel disappeared out the door.

  My whole body was hard—and not just because I kept remembering what she looked like standing over me this morning wearing nothing but her underwear. I was tense because if I had thought managing Larry’s stubbornness in the past few months—months when his mood deteriorated and his patience waned thin, months when he’d slowly stopped taking the antidepressants Dr. Shelly had prescribed—if I thought that had been difficult, I now saw that I had my work cut out for me when it came to his granddaughter.

  Those were also the months when I should’ve been the one to realize he wasn’t taking his meds and forced the damn pills down his obstinate throat. Maybe then he’d still be here…

  “Is she… is she really going to sell Roasters?” Eve’s strangled question softly floated through the silence.

  Larry had hired Eve when Ash began construction on his restaurant, knowing he’d need a replacement for the recovering alcoholic when he left to manage his own business full time.

  When I first moved to Carmel a decade ago, I’d been the one behind the bar, learning from the great Larry Ocean how to make exceptional espresso and, more importantly, how to make people feel welcome and safe.

  I cleared my throat hoping it would remove the emotion lodged in it.

  Diane began, “It does seem like she is intent—”