“No mouse,” I say.
She frowns. “I was sure I heard it.”
“Maybe you just wanted to hear it so you could sneak into my room,” I tease and get a pillow thrown at me in return.
“Ego much?”
“Only because I can back it up.”
She rolls her eyes, and I laugh and toss the pillow back. “You don’t have to get up early, do you?”
She thinks for a moment. “Realtor is coming at noon.”
“Try to get some sleep, then. I’ll make sure the house stays quiet for you.”
Her smile of gratitude squeezes my heart, and okay, fine, I want to take care of her, even though she’s capable of caring for herself.
Shit.
“Night, Nate,” she says and snuggles into her bed, a warm, satisfied smile on her face, one I put there. Christ, I feel as smug as I did back in high school when I made that touchdown that won us the game.
I close her door and go back to my room. No way am I going to get back to sleep. Not with the way my brain is buzzing and my body is aching. You’d think after a couple of rounds, I’d be sated, but nope. Good thing we’ve got more time together. I’m sure by the end of the fishing season, we’ll both have slayed the tension between us. Because when the season is over, this is done. Christ, she still doesn’t even know who I really am, although it doesn’t appear that she wants to, or that it matters—a good indication that she doesn’t want more, either.
I flop into my bed and bring Kira’s pillow to my nose to inhale her sweet vanilla scent. I really wish I could close my eyes for another hour. The extra sleep would do me good. A day out on the fishing boat is exhausting at best, and today I scheduled myself to go with Albert McMurtry’s crew.
Every now and then I have to get out of the office and go with the guys to hear their concerns and to connect with them on another level. Unlike my father and brothers, I don’t rule with an iron fist. I’ve always lived by a quote I read when I was getting my MBA. “A boss invokes fear, a leader inspires confidence.” Lame? I don’t know. My family would certainly think so. But as long as I get the string of cottages purchased and the facility built, with profits to show for it, differing philosophies shouldn’t matter. It’s the end result that counts.
I lie down and stare at the ceiling, thinking about Kira until my alarm finally goes off. I slip from my bed and make my way to the bathroom. I shower quickly and meet Sam in the hall as he waits for his turn.
“Kira came to get me to check on the mouse trap late last night. She didn’t get much sleep, so let’s keep it down this morning.”
He mumbles a reply and quietly closes the bathroom door. I tap on Jason’s door, and relay the same message. I glance in Cody’s room, but he’s already up. I don’t dare wake Izzy before her time. She’s a total bear, and it’s possible she’d go straight for the gonads with her steel-toed boot.
I reach the kitchen and find Cody drinking coffee, eating a muffin, and playing some game on his phone. He nods his head, and I fill a mug and help myself to one of the muffins. The crew all come down one by one, and I have a cup of coffee on the table waiting for Izzy. She grumbles some reply and checks her phone as she sips quietly.
Sam drops into the chair. “You know we can’t let her sell this place, right?” he says, getting right to the point this morning. He must have been stewing on it all night.
I look at him over the rim of my coffee cup as I take a drink. “We don’t have a choice. Gram left this to Kira’s mother, and she wants it sold.”
“What if we can raise enough money for a down payment?” Sam suggests.
“Are you saying you want to buy it?”
“No, but we can hold a fund-raiser or something, help Kira buy it.”
“Kira is only here temporarily,” I remind him. “She doesn’t want the responsibility of running a B&B.”
“We run it just fine,” Jason says and plunks down next to me. “Her name can be on paper only.”
Apparently, they’ve given it thought but not to the end or into the future. “She’d be responsible for the mortgage, Jason.”
Sam frowns, and his foot bounces under the table, stirring the coffee in the mugs on top of it. “It would kill Gram to see it go to someone outside the family.”
I don’t doubt that he is right, but I’m not seeing an easy solution here. I take them all in and look at Cody, who appears to be playing his game but will be aware of the conversation going on around him, listening quietly like he usually does.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say, you guys.”
Sam glances at Izzy. They exchange a look, and Izzy shrugs. “I’m sure Heather would agree if it was for a good cause.”
I glance back and forth between the two of them, and when Sam glances down in thought, a tell that he’s scheming something, I ask, “What are you all up to?”
“Nothing,” they both say in unison, and I push back in my chair.
“Whatever it is, I can’t stop you.” I hold my hands up. “I’m just not getting involved.”
“Not so fast, boss,” Jason says. “We might need you.”
“I’m not sure if I can be of any help.” Not outside of buying the place to keep it running. But I have no intention of owning a B&B. I already have enough trouble with the home I purchased.
I stand, put my mug in the sink, and grab my winter gear. “Catch up with you guys later.”
As I exit through the backdoor, the crew lean in and start talking about some function at the bar. I told them I can’t stop them, but maybe someone should. Sure the place runs by itself, but who says Kira wants to take on the responsibility of actually owning it if they raise enough for a down payment. She’d still have a mortgage to pay, and she said her mother wants it sold, so she won’t have her family in her corner.
Sitting in my truck, I glance at the big Thunderbird Kira is driving. The vehicle doesn’t even look like it’s roadworthy, and she can’t go far with those all-season tires that are down to their last treads.
Today is overcast with more snow expected tonight, which is making it difficult to fix the back stairs. I pull out of the driveway, make a quick trip to the hardware store, and a few minutes later, I’m geared up and meeting Albert and his crew on his stare-of-the-art fishing vessel.
“Hey, boss,” he says with a tip of his head.
“Call me Nate,” I say, and he scrubs his salt-and-pepper beard.
“Sure thing, boss,” he says with a teasing wink. It’s a tug of war we play—harmless, and he seems to enjoy goading me.