Page 32 of Resting Beach Face
I finished checking her in, but my mind remained on that phone call with Skylar. I lasted exactly as long as my shift. As soon as I clocked out, I begged a ride from Hudson. He delivered me to the dock behind the Treehouse B&B, no questions asked.
I had questions, though. Plenty of them.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“About Declan selling?” Hudson said, proving he knew why I was charging over here. “Only that he was considering it. Is it a done deal?”
“It better not be,” I said grimly.
He raised an eyebrow. “You do know he can make his own choices?”
“Well, it’s a stupid choice,” I exclaimed. “I don’t understand this man.”
Hudson smiled sympathetically. “Not sure he understands you, either. Maybe that’s the problem?”
I clambered out of the boat ungracefully, nearly tripping when my toe hit a raised board. I stumbled a couple of steps forward, catching my balance before I could face-plant.
I turned toward Hudson, who was smirking at my performance. “Not a word.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I whirled away. “Okay, I’m off to slay the stubborn dragon.”
“Cash,” Hudson called.
I paused, glancing back over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“Be careful. This is a delicate conversation to navigate. You understand?”
“Yep.”
“I’d like him to stay, but if he’s unhappy, we need to set him free.”
“Your pep talk is shit.”
Hudson grinned. “You needed to hear it. Good luck, man.”
I strode toward the B&B, the scent of Declan’s rose bushes perfuming the air. While I walked, I rehearsed what I could say that would change his mind. My track record for convincing the man of anything wasn’t so great. But I could find the right words, the perfect argument to illustrate that he belonged here, right?
That his B&B could co-exist with the resort—and he could co-exist withme—if we all worked together.
As luck would have it, a guest was stepping out just as I arrived. I slid past them through the open door.
The front desk was empty. Most of the guests were out to dinner at this hour. I veered left and peeked into the kitchen and dining room, but he wasn’t in either place.
Which meant he was probably in his private rooms. I walked down the short hall behind the dining area and rapped my knuckles on the blond wood door.
“Declan?” I called. “It’s Cash.”
Declan opened the door, dressed in his customary dress slacks and button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to the forearms. It was a casual but sophisticated look that had always done it for me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk to you,” I said, stepping forward.
Declan stood his ground, brow creased. “About what?”
“About this stupid plan to sell the B&B!”
