Page 125 of Resting Beach Face
So had Kat.
Mom went inside and packed a couple more bags for us. When she brought them out, her face was tear-stained, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly as she passed the bags over.
“Me too.”
We stared at each other a beat, but there was really nothing else to say.
I joined Katelyn in the truck, and we drove away. Neither of us looked back.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Declan
The B&Bphone rang just as I was coming in from the garden, my knees still dusted with dirt. I’d spent an hour weeding and watering, then gone over to check out the progress on the greenhouse.
Gray had brought in a couple of extra guys to help build it while Cash and I worked on some of the easier repairs at the main house. They hadn’t yet started installing glass, but the wood framing had gone up, giving it a tangible shape.
My stomach flipped with excitement. Aunt Millie would be so thrilled to see her vision becoming reality. And it was all thanks to Cash pushing me to dream a little.
Just like he had a week ago, when we’d gone on our date at The Drunken Worm and he’d told me I didn’t have to get a financial analyst job. That I could pursue anything I wanted now.
It was such a big, nebulous idea, but as I circled the greenhouse…maybe I could see it a little more. A life working in the garden instead of a stuffy office, growing and selling produceinstead of analyzing data. I was good with numbers, but I didn’tlovethem.
Once I sold the B&B, I’d get a payout. But would it be enough to walk away from a more practical job for good?
By the time I got to the host’s desk at the edge of the great room, Cash had already picked up the phone.
“Treehouse B&B. This is Cash, your booking extraordinaire. How can I help you?”
While he spoke, he tapped at the laptop keys, navigating to the booking software. He’d picked up so many calls and entertained so many guests over breakfast in the past few weeks that he could run this place without breaking a sweat.
I could just see it now…Cash charming every guest that booked in, the reviews on the B&B shifting from “owner is unfriendly and grumpy” to “owner is wonderful and sweet and hot!” The Treehouse would probably become one of the best spots to stay in Swallow Cove—not because it was the only option, as it had been for so long, but because guests would finally get the friendly, intimate experience I could never provide.
“Third week of September, let me check…” Cash covered the mouthpiece on the phone. “Should I book that far out?”
“Go ahead. We don’t know how long it’ll be on the market. We’ll get the buyer to honor existing bookings.”
He nodded and resumed the call. “Okay, you’re in luck. I’ve got you down for our Cottonwood Room. It’s got a gorgeous view of the lush gardens and trees, but also the lake, which let’s be honest, that’s why you’re visiting, right? Can’t miss that.” He chuckled as they replied, keeping up the friendly banter as he finished the booking.
But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
In the three days since Cash walked away from his parents, we’d settled into a routine that fit as comfortably as my favorite cardigan on cold winter days.
In the mornings, he helped me with breakfast service before heading off to a coffee date with Poppy, then to work at the resort. On his off days, he continued to help with repairs, mostly focusing on the smaller updates needed at the main house while Gray oversaw the greenhouse construction.
In the evenings, we made dinner—or occasionally picked something up—along with Katelyn. She seemed relieved to be back here. When I’d told her to stay as long as she wanted, she’d hugged me tight and told me I was the best. Cash, though? He’d smiled tightly and promised to look for a place of their own.
I didn’twanthim in a place of his own.
I headed for my quarters to shower off the dirt and sweat while Cash wrapped up the phone call. I trusted that he’d get the coffee started while I did. When I returned, I’d make breakfast, and we’d both fall into the routine of another day.
Cash took off soon after, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before he did. The B&B kept me fairly busy. I had two rooms to turn over, with hours of laundry, vacuuming, and dusting. When I wasn’t working on those, I was paying bills, which were steadily stacking up with all the extra renovations.
It was late that night before we were alone and could really talk.
I cuddled up to him in bed, my chest tight. Because I was so dang happy, but he was obviously hurting, and I didn’t know how to help. “What can I do?” I murmured. “How can I make you happy?”
