The three men made sure the fire was out, then headed back to the beach. Chloe stood there, her back to their little circle, lit by the glow of the flames as she squinted to see into the woods. She was waiting, the concern etched on her face.
For him.
That was different. He’d always been the one to look after people and wasn’t used to it going the other way. And yet he could see it plain as day. Tough as she was, she let her emotions show, every single one of them.
He wasn’t good at that and didn’t want to be. He hadn’t managed to stay alive on the job by being an open book. Anything he felt, he kept to himself. And actually, sometimes he wasn’t sure he even had any emotions to hide.
But all he had to do was look at Chloe and know that he did. He had way too many feelings. It’d been a damn long time since he’d let anything penetrate, but she’d gotten through. In fact, what he felt for her had invaded his life.
Love was a weakness.
Love made a guy soft.
And soft meant mistakes were made. And yet there was Chloe, looking for him. At him. And something turned over in his chest. It was his heart, exposing its soft, vulnerable underbelly. He had no idea what to do with that.
Or her.
Several days later, Chloe was manning the inn. She was sweeping the living room wood floors and watching an old Friends repeat.
Lance called. “Working hard?” he asked.
She glanced at the TV wryly. “Very.”
“Is that Friends?”
Chloe aimed the remote and turned down the volume. “If you can recognize it by sound alone, you know it too well.”
“What season?” he asked.
“Well, Chandler’s secretly doing Monica, so season five.”
Lance laughed. “If you can name the season, you know it too well.”
She snorted. “Better than being married to my PS3. Haven’t seen you in days.”
“Been busy, but not with my PS3.”
The smugness in his voice alerted her. “Ah. So how’s your nurse?”
“Good. Very good.”
“Are we ever going to all hang out?” Chloe asked.
“Hell, no.”
“Afraid I’ll tell her all your secrets and scare her off?” she teased.
“Hell, yes. Listen, we have people coming in this weekend, and they want two rooms. You up for it?”
“Depends.” Chloe turned to the front desk and brought up the B &B’s schedule on the computer. “Are they normal?”
“Define normal.”
“Viable credit card and not any of Tucker’s idiot friends.”
“You’re in luck. They’re actually my godparents and their teenage kids, and they’re nice. And they pay their bills.”
“Okay, then. I’ll book them.”
“Thanks. So what’s this I read on Facebook about you and the sheriff sending out save-the-date magnets?”
“What?” Chloe nearly fell off the chair. Righting herself, she clicked over to the Facebook page on the computer. Nothing except a Cute Guy sighting had been made in the grocery store. He’d been caught buying an expensive cut of steak, and people were wondering which woman in town he was cooking for. “You made that up!”
“Yeah,” Lance said on a rough laugh. “When did you get so easy?”
“When did you get so mean?”
“Aw, you know I love you.” Then some of the amusement faded from his voice. “And you should also know, Todd has a new crush.”
“Jesus. Amy is not interested in any of them. Tell them just because she’s new and beautiful that she-”
“You,” Lance said. “He’s crushing on you.”
“Too bad for him.”
“Yeah, well, be careful.”
“I’m handling Todd.” Mostly by ignoring him, but there wasn’t much more she could do.
“He was drunk the other night, Chloe,” Lance said. “Talking about snatching you from beneath Sawyer’s nose.”
Terrific. “I-”
A woman walked in the front door of the inn. “Gotta go,” Chloe whispered and hung up. “Hi,” she said with a welcoming smile, promptly putting the annoying Todd out of her head. “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah. I hope so. I don’t have a reservation. Do you have any rooms available?” She was a mid-twenties blonde, pretty. And she was nervous as hell. When she clasped her hands together at her chest, her fingers were shaking.
“We do have rooms,” Chloe said. “Just you?”
“Y-yes.” She squeezed her lips together. “Just me.”
Chloe opened a registration page on the computer. “Okay…your name?”
“Um.” The woman’s gaze shifted toward the television, still turned to Friends. “Monica.”
Chloe paused. “Last name?”
“Do you really need that?”
“Well, I’ll need a driver’s license and credit card, so…”
“Oh, but I’m going to pay cash,” the woman said, eyes darting around as if someone might object. “So you don’t need an ID, right?”
“Actually, we still ask for ID.” Chloe looked at “Monica’s” luggage-a garment bag from a haute couture store in Seattle and two wrinkled plastic bags from Target. Quite the contradiction. Another was that “Monica’s” makeup was theater flawless, with her hair up in an intricate French twist that had been clearly done by a professional and yet she wore cheap, baggy sweats. On her right breast was a tiny round clear sticker with a small black S, the size hadn’t yet been removed.
And then there was the big tell-the woman’s panic was a tangible, living, breathing thing in the room, and Chloe knew right then she was going to cave. But before she could say so, Tara poked her head in from the kitchen. “I’ve got groceries to unload- Oops, sorry.”
“Excuse me for just a minute,” Chloe said to Monica and jogged after Tara into the kitchen. Maddie was just coming in the back door as well.
“Problem,” Chloe told them quietly. “We have a guest who doesn’t want to show ID.”
“We have to have a credit card on file,” Tara said.
“She’s running away from someone.” Chloe cracked the kitchen door to peek at their guest, who was pacing the living room. “I want to let her stay here.”
“You asking or telling?” Tara asked.
Chloe locked gazes with her.
“We’ve got to at least get ID,” Tara protested.
“Or we could…forget,” Maddie said softly. “Because if the poor thing is hiding, it’s for a reason, and we should help her.”
Chloe nodded her agreement on that score. “She’s scared. I’m going back out there.” Back in the living room, she smiled reassuringly at their guest. “Just one night?”
“Yes. I need to be on the road at the crack of dawn.”
“Sure.” Chloe once again bent to the computer. “So where are you headed?”
She bit her lip. “LA?”
Chloe looked up from the screen. “Okay, but tomorrow night, when you’re standing at another front desk in some other inn, don’t say it with a question mark. Own it.”
The woman winced. “Oh, God. You’re right.” She seemed to collapse in on herself. “And I don’t want to be standing at another inn tomorrow. I’ve only come from Seattle, and I’m already tired of driving. Can I just book a room here for a week and have you pretend I don’t exist?”
“A week might be harder to swing without a credit card.”