Название: His Proposal, Their Forever
Автор: Melissa McClone
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781474002028
isbn:
“Nope. I was wondering if you normally strut around town in fuzzy slippers.”
“They were the only shoes my foot would fit. And just so you know, I don’t strut. Sauntering or sashaying is more my style.”
“You seem like the strutting type.”
“If anyone struts, you do.”
“That’s right.” He carried her into the dining room, right off the entryway and lobby. “I wasn’t dissing you. Can you stand?”
“I’ve been standing all morning.”
“Which is why your foot is hurting. You should have stayed home and done first aid.”
He sounded like one of her five overprotective brothers, telling her what to do and who not to date. Didn’t matter that two were younger than her. “I jammed my toe. A sprain. That’s all.”
“Looks like you may have broken something.” Justin placed her feet on the floor, causing her to suck in a breath. “Hold on to me until you’re steady.”
She dug her fingers into his jacket. The padding couldn’t hide his muscular arms. His chest was solid, too. Fully dressed, he was hot. Naked, he would be a specimen worthy of a master sculptor, Michelangelo or da Vinci.
She imagined running her hands over the model to get the right curves and indentations in the clay. Her pulse skittered, and her temperature rose. His body shouldn’t impress her, not after she’d sketched and painted male models who were as good-looking, if not more classically handsome.
Uh-oh. Time to go on a date if she was getting worked up over a guy like Justin. His company’s name shared his last name. That meant he likely had money—Oliver Richardson all over again. Wealthy men wanted more money or connections, such as with her brother, and would use women to get them. No, thank you.
So what if he knew a little Egyptian mythology and carried her out of the rain without getting winded? She saved historic sites. He toppled beautiful old buildings. Someone like him would never be right for her.
She let go of his arm. Looked around. Fell over.
He grabbed her. “What?”
“Gone. Everything’s gone.”
A dozen dining tables gone. Over fifty chairs gone. Antique buffets, rugs, draperies gone.
“It’s all in the truck,” Justin said.
His words brought zero relief. Seeing the empty room hurt worse than her toe. Only the scent of lemon oil and memories remained.
Oh, Floyd. Why? Why would you sell the inn?
“For over a hundred and forty years, guests have eaten meals here.” She stared at the empty room where she’d dreamed of having her wedding reception someday. “That will never happen again.”
“Guests will be back when the new Broughton Inn opens. We’ll have a café, a bar and a restaurant with a view of the bay.”
Her lungs tightened. She took a breath, then another. “It won’t be the same.”
Bailey rubbed her tired eyes, trying to keep their stinging from turning into full-blown tears.
“Sit,” Justin ordered.
Getting off her feet sounded wonderful, but she had a job to do. “I need to inventory the artwork.”
“You look like you’re about to pass out.” He pointed to the floor. “Sit. Five minutes won’t kill you.”
She hesitated. A Cole never shirked responsibility. Even AJ, who had left town eleven years ago and moved to Seattle, had done what he could to help their family when the economy soured and they were on the verge of losing their boats.
But Justin was right. Five minutes wouldn’t change anything. Bailey slid to the floor, careful of her foot, and stretched her leg out in front of her. She leaned back against the wall.
Oh, wow. This felt better. “A couple of minutes.”
The construction crew seemed to have disappeared. Maybe they were off in another part of the inn. Maybe they’d left. She didn’t care. Fewer people around meant fewer chances of bumping and damaging the art.
Justin sat next to her. He stretched out his long legs. She waited for his thigh or shoulder to touch hers, but that didn’t happen. Thank goodness he understood the meaning of personal space. She was too tired to deal with anything more this morning.
“How long until the artists pick up their stuff?” he asked.
He was calling her life’s work “stuff.” How quickly her fantasies about an intelligent man who worked Anubis into a discussion were dashed. But then again, he wanted to tear down the inn.
“While you were taking your time unloading the truck, I called and left messages. The artists have jobs and families. They’ll be here as soon as they can.”
He glanced at his cell phone, but she couldn’t tell if he was checking the time or a text. “Can you be more specific as to when?”
“Got big plans, like working on the approval process?”
“Something along those lines.”
“I’m here. You don’t have to hang around.”
“I do. I own the inn.” Justin motioned to her foot. “Besides, you’re hurt. You can’t do this on your own. You need help.”
“Resting is helping.” Not really, but she wouldn’t admit how much her foot ached. “I’ll stay off my feet. There’s no reason for you to stick around.”
“I need to lock up when you’re finished.”
“I’ve got a key.”
“Floyd gave you a key to the inn?”
Justin’s incredulous tone matched the look in his eyes. He and Oliver could be twins separated at birth.
“No, his late father, Clyde, did.” She shouldn’t feel the need to explain, but she did. “I started working here when I was sixteen.”
“Front desk?”
“Kitchen.” She glanced to the doorway on the right where she’d spent so many years. The imagined smell of grease was as strong as if the fryers were going. “I was a cook until a few years ago. Then I partnered with Floyd to open the gallery. We hold art events here. Held them, I mean.”
The gallery no longer existed. The inn, either.
The truth hit her like a sneaker wave, knocking her over on the beach and dragging her out to sea. The coast guard couldn’t rush in and save the day. No one could. The inn as she knew it was gone.
The news devastated her. This was the place where СКАЧАТЬ