So much for carrying Bailey.
Outside the inn, Justin adjusted his grip on her framed painting. Plastic wrap crinkled beneath his fingertips. He could tell this piece meant more to her than the others, so he would be extra careful. But the woman herself...
He should have known better than to get worked up over her.
Passionate, yes, but stubborn to the nth degree.
He’d offered to carry Bailey to the car, then go back for the artwork. She hadn’t wanted to do that. He’d then suggested getting her car and picking her up in front of the inn. She’d said no again. Mules had more sense than Bailey Cole.
She moved at a snail-pace wobble, her steps unsteady on the wet sidewalk. Any second, she might go down and hit the concrete. She would probably want him to let her fall than risk damaging her art.
She might be one of the most annoying women he’d ever met, but she worried him. “You okay?”
Bailey shot Justin a glare, one he’d become familiar over the past few hours. Her lips should thin in three...two...one...
And they disappeared. A line of chalk was thicker than her mouth. As easy to read as the Sunday comics. Too bad her lone-wolf act didn’t make her curves less appealing.
“I told you.” Her know-it-all voice grated on his back teeth. “I’m fine.”
Sure she was. And he had complete control of the Broughton Inn project. What a pair they were. Well, a pair for however long this situation took to get resolved.
He supported the canvas between his far arm and body, in case she needed help. “You’re back to looking like you’re going to fall over.”
“You have bigger things to worry about than me.”
True, but he needed to get rid of her before he could deal with the rest of the mess. “Until I get you home, you’re my biggest concern.”
“It won’t be for much longer. Five-minute drive, max. I’ll be home long before I come close to losing it.”
Whoa. His gaze ran the length of her. Maybe he hadn’t figured her out. “Did you just admit you’re on the verge of a meltdown?”
She didn’t shrug or shake her head. “Maybe.”
That was more than he thought she’d admit. Bailey Cole had ruined his day, but given her injury, she was a trooper—make that a general—who had defeated him. He couldn’t wait for a rematch and to come out on top. Still Justin had a strange desire to comfort her, a feeling not only due to her killer curves.
She shortened her stride again. “If you don’t mind adding a couple of minutes onto the drive to my house, I’d be grateful if you swung by the Burger Boat.”
“They sell burgers on a boat?” he asked.
“Nope. Local fast food place. On land, not water. They have a drive-through, so we won’t have to get out of the car. Not that I could.” She glanced at her foot with a want-to-start-the-day-over look. “But it’s past lunchtime. I’m starving and my cupboards are bare.”
Her words reminded him of the “Old Mother Hubbard” nursery rhyme. Not that they had a dog to feed. Thank goodness the mutt was gone.
Thinking about a rhyme should seem odd, but wasn’t given the way she was dressed and how strange today had been. “No eating. No food at home. You don’t take very good care of yourself, Miss Cole.”
“I take good care of myself.” Her tone was an interesting mix—defensive and honest. She inched toward the curb. Exhaustion creased her face. “Except when I’m wrapped up in a project. Then my plans, like grocery shopping, get pushed aside. Most days bring a surprise or two.”
Surprises, indeed. She’d surprised him.
“You might find a healthy meal and sleep a boon to your creativity.”
“I’ll remember that the next time.”
“No, you won’t,” he said.
“I was trying to be polite.”
“You sound annoyed.”
“I’m that, too.”
“Because you’re hungry.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “A burger sounds good. I need to pick up lunch because Wyatt gave the dog my turkey sandwich.”
Bailey stopped. “Where is the dog?”
“No idea. Dined and dashed. Probably headed home.”
A look of concern returned to her face. “He could be a stray.”
Nope. Justin wasn’t going there. She might want to drive around and try to find the damn thing. Then they’d have to call Animal Control and wait. Again. He’d wasted his morning. He wasn’t about to lose the entire day.
Time to change the subject. “Which car is yours?”
She pointed toward a four-door hatchback with a bright yellow exterior and black upholstered seats parked on the street.
“Looks like a bee.” Tiny cars were annoying to drive, but this one was the color of a hot rod. He might not mind the leg cramps headed his way.
Bailey nodded, then stumbled.
He grabbed her with his free hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Thanks.”
He should be thanking her. Warmth and softness pressed against Justin, making him think of lazy autumn weekend mornings spent in bed, the brush of flannel sheets against skin, the feel of someone else’s heartbeat and the sound of another breath.
Yes. He needed to get out more. Nothing serious, just for fun.
He helped her into the car, closed the door, then walked around to the hatchback and loaded the painting. “Tell me about this burger place. Good food?”
She turned and leaned between the front seats. “Best fries in town, thanks to a special seasoning mix. A little spicy, but not too much.”
“I don’t mind a little heat.”
His words came out more suggestive then he’d intended. But what could he say? That image of a bed and tangled flannel sheets was burned on his mind.
She faced forward. “There are bungee cords, if you want to secure the painting.”
Justin battened down the frame, then slid into the driver’s seat. His right knee crashed into the steering wheel. “Knowing that was coming didn’t help.”
He expected her to laugh at him, tease him at the least, but no mocking laughter appeared in her eyes.
“That had to hurt.” Her nose crinkled, her forehead, too. “You okay?”
“That’s supposed to be my line.” He didn’t like being on the receiving end of her seeming to care. She was the enemy and would lose this fight to save the inn. “I’m fine.”
“That’s my line.”
“Now we’re even.” He adjusted the seat so his legs half fit, then saw the stick shift. “You managed to drive a clutch with your injured foot.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Damn straight I am.” The woman was unbelievable. But he knew that. “Did you even consider staying home or at least off the roads?”
“I had no choice. If I hadn’t come, there wouldn’t be an inn.”
So much for a truce. “If you’d been bleeding with your foot torn to shreds—”
“That’s what rolls of gauze and bandages are for.”
“You’re either dedicated or insane.”
“A little of both.”
Her admission surprised him. “Seriously?”
“No one completely sane chooses to be a full-time artist. The market’s as fickle as the economy, creativity comes and goes and making a living is hard. But I give lessons, put on events and sell an occasional piece. Somehow things work out.”
Her car sat lower to the road than any car he remembered driving. Not a bumblebee. More like a battery-powered toy. He fastened his seat belt. “You must be doing okay, given this car.”
“I’m not a starving artist, even if I look like one. I travel back and forth to a gallery in Seattle. I need a reliable vehicle. This one fits the bill.”
From crazy to practical in less than thirty seconds. She must drive her boyfriend to the brink of insanity.
But what a way to go, a voice in his head whispered.
Justin ignored it. He drove up the block to the inn and parked at the curb. “I’m going to bring out the rest of your artwork. Won’t take me long.”
Five minutes later, he was back behind the wheel. “Which way?”
“Follow Bay Street until you reach Third Avenue. You can only turn right. You’ll see the Burger Boat on the left.”
He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. “Think you’ll be able to hold yourself together that long?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
He couldn’t tell from her tone if she was joking or warning him.
Justin drove past the marina. Many of the slips were empty. The fishermen and charter-boat captains who made a living on the sea must be hard at work. People like Bailey’s family.
Across the street sat stores and cafés, one after another. The buildings looked newer, not just with a new coat of paint, but updated facades to add to the quaint, coastal feel of the town. One restaurant had a crow’s nest, but no drive-through window.
People, dressed in shorts or sundresses, filled the boardwalk running the length of the Bay Street shops. The little town of Haley’s Bay was a big draw with Cape Disappointment and Long Beach nearby.
A boat-shaped building with a giant plastic hamburger for the ship’s wheel caught his attention. Must be the Burger Boat. The blue-and-white paint job looked new, as did the windows. But the architecture screamed early 1970s tacky and retro-cool.
“Follow the anchors painted on the pavement to get to the drive-through window.”
He did and stopped behind a silver minivan. There was no intercom system with a digital screen to display an order, only a window. “What do you recommend besides the fries?”
“The pirate booty burger is good if you have a big appetite. The hazelnut chocolate shakes are amazing.”
“You know the menu well.” He expected a shrug, but didn’t get one.
“I eat here once a week. Have since I was a kid. They add seasonal shake flavors like pumpkin in the fall, and occasionally change up the Catch of the Day burger, but pretty much the menu has stayed the same for as long as I remember, a lot like Haley’s Bay until they put in new shops on Bay Street.”
“You don’t like the changes.”
This time she shrugged. “They are tourist spots, necessary for a service-oriented town, but not practical shops for those who call this place home. I miss the old places like the hardware store and pharmacy.”
“The familiarity?”
“Consistency.”
“To balance the not-always-stable life of an artist?”
“I guess. Maybe I’m just stuck in my ways.”
The minivan pulled away from the window. Justin released the brake and drove forward.
“I’ll have a dinghy burger, fries and root beer.” She dug through her yellow shopping bag and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Lunch is on me. I appreciate the ride home and not having to wait for my family.”
Justin had two choices. Accept her offer or say no, thanks. He weighed both options. One would piss her off. Both might. But she was tired, and they were hungry. No sense aggravating the situation more. And she had ruined his day. A free lunch wouldn’t make up for the mess she caused.
He took the money.
Loose strands of hair curled around her face and caught the light. The color looked coppery like a shiny new penny. His stomach tightened. That had nothing to do with being hungry.
She wasn’t sweet or nice. She was a pain in the ass.
Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The fast-food place’s drive-through window slid open.
“Ahoy, matey. Welcome to the Burger Boat.” A man in his early twenties with a chipped front tooth and a sailor cap grinned. “What can we reel in for you today?”
Justin gave their order and paid with Bailey’s twenty.
A foghorn blared inside the restaurant, the nautical sound effects matching the place’s boat theme.
“Here’s your change. I’ll bag up your catch.” The window slid closed.
“Did you ever work here?” Justin asked her, trying to fill the silence in her car.
“No, I thought being under a chef would teach me more than how to grill burgers and blend milk shakes.”
“Smart thinking for a teenager.”
“I like learning as much as I can about what I do.”
She had more going on in her head than what subject to paint next. She hadn’t known what she’d faced this morning, but she’d arrived prepared with files and paperwork.
Unlike him.
The window opened again. The man passed over the drinks. “Here’s your order.”
Justin put the drinks in the cup holders between their seats, then handed her the bag of food. She gave him directions to her house. He pulled forward and turned out of the parking lot.
The scent of burger and fries made his stomach grumble. “Smells good.”
“Tastes better.” Bailey opened the bag, removed a couple of fries and lifted them to his mouth. “Here.”
“Thanks—”
He hit the brake to let pedestrians cross the street.
Her fingers bumped into his chin, then slipped away, leaving a trail of heat.
A blush rose up her neck. Sexy.
Easy, guy. Justin needed to add “fingers” to the list of her lethal body parts, along with her breasts and her brain.
“Sorry,” she said.
He reminded himself to swallow. The spice hit the back of his throat. “Eat. We’re down to the final thirty seconds until you lose it.”
Bailey ate French fries, then a bite of her burger. “I feel better already.”
On her street, a man dressed in cargo shorts and a stained T-shirt stood next to Officer Grady Cole in front of a blue-painted cottage. Colorful flowers filled every space that wasn’t covered by grass, including the basket of a rusted bicycle leaning against the outside of a white picket fence.
The house looked surprisingly normal, though Justin hadn’t known what to expect. A run-down shack? A padded room? “That looks like your brother.”
“Two brothers. Grady and Ellis.” Bailey leaned forward. “Both should be at work.”
What now? Justin gripped the steering wheel. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Five, and one sister.”
“Where should I park?”
“The driveway is right past the police car.” She dragged her upper teeth across her lower lip. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”
He reached out, touched her forearm. A gesture of comfort, except he wasn’t 100 percent certain that was all. “Hey. I’m sure everything’s okay. Grady knew you injured your foot. They’re probably checking up on you.”
She nodded, but doubt remained in her gaze.
Justin switched on the blinker, turned into the driveway. Her brothers glared like wolves protecting their pack. His fight instinct kicked into high gear. He parked the car. Two against one. He’d faced worse odds and come out ahead.
“My brothers don’t look happy,” she said in an understated voice.
Justin recognized their don’t-mess-with-my-sister expression. He pulled the key out of the ignition. “Let’s find out why.”
* * *
Seated in her car, Bailey sipped her root beer. She needed one more fortifying drink of sugar to face her brothers. Ellis and Grady’s body language suggested they wanted to take someone out. They’d looked the same way when they found out she’d lied about going to a sleepover and snuck down to Seaside during spring break to hang out with college boys from the University of Washington.
No worries. She needed to stay calm and settle her brothers down. Fast. Or someone—namely, Justin—was going to get hurt.
Ellis, the second-oldest and married with kids, opened her car door. “Where have you been? We’ve been calling.”
“The inn.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “Grady knew where I was. Grandma, too.”
“Grady told me you were at the inn, but you didn’t answer my texts. When I called, all I got was your voice mail.” Ellis sounded like their dad, only more caring.
“Long morning. My cell phone died.” Bailey moved her legs out of the car. Her fingers dug into the seat fabric. She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy, that didn’t feel good.
“You’re hurt. And you look a mess.” Ellis touched her shoulder. He turned to Grady. “You’re right about her foot.”
Grady nodded. “Told you.”
“Excuse me.” Justin pushed forward, moving her brothers out of the way, and picked her up. “Bailey’s injured. Whatever you’re here for can wait until I get her inside.”
“Who are you?” Ellis asked.
“A Good Samaritan helping your sister,” Justin said. “Out of my way.”
Ellis grabbed the shopping bag from her hands. “Do you need anything out of the car?”
She nodded. “The artwork and our lunch.”
“On it,” Grady said.
Uh-oh. Her brothers were being too nice and not giving Justin a hard time. Something was up.
Justin carried her toward the front door. His strong arms cradled her. Her pulse quickened.
She didn’t like what Justin McMillian intended to do to the inn, but her heart melted a little. No guy had ever stood up to her brothers. Not that Justin had caused a confrontation. But he’d shown concern for her without worrying about the repercussions. That was new. And seeing Ellis and Grady get out of the way was funny. They were as stubborn as she was.
What Justin did for a living stole a building’s soul. But she was glad he was here. Pain and hunger must be softening her standards. “I appreciate the help.”
“I figured you needed to get inside. Not answer a lot of questions.”
Justin handed her the keys.
She pretended to unlock the door, not wanting another lecture from any man, brother or stranger, about forgetting to lock the front door, then opened it.
He carried her inside. “Is the couch okay?”
“Perfect.”
He set her down. Being horizontal felt good. If only her foot would stop hurting.
“Put your leg up on the back of the couch.” He eyed one of her paintings on the wall. “Nice artwork. You’re talented.”
Tingles filled her stomach like a flock of swallows. She wished his words didn’t mean as much as they did. “I love what I do.”
“You work here.”
She glanced at the paint-covered drop cloth and easel with an unfinished painting. All she’d wanted to do today was complete the piece, wash clothes and grocery shop. So much for plans. “Yes.”
Ellis set her yellow bag and lunch on the coffee table. He helped himself to some fries. “I’m Ellis Cole.”
“Justin McMillian.”
Ellis kneeled next to her. “How ya doing, sis?”
“My foot is killing me, but the inn is in one piece.” She smiled, proud she’d saved the structure from demolition, then grabbed more fries. “A good day.”
“Depends on your perspective,” Justin said.
Grady set a painting against the wall. “I texted Mom. She’s picking up Grandma. They’ll be right over to take you to the hospital.”
“Urgent Care will be fine.” Bailey eyed her brothers. “Why aren’t you guys at work?”
“Tyler called. He wanted me to find you,” Grady said in his no-nonsense police voice. A world away from the wild kid he’d once been.
“Tyler is my cousin,” she told Justin. “He’s the only lawyer in Haley’s Bay.” She looked at her two brothers. “If this is about me introducing him to one of the girls in my painting class—”
“It’s not.” Grady’s gaze ping-ponged from her to Justin. “I’m here on official business with news about the inn.”
Justin rocked back on his heels. His face tightened. “What news?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McMillian, but your company is the victim of a fraudulent real estate transaction,” Grady said.
“Fraudulent?” Justin asked.
Ellis nodded. “You got conned.”
Bailey sat up. “What are you talking about?”
“Floyd Jeffries sold the inn to two buyers on the same day,” Grady said. “One buyer was McMillian Resorts. The other was represented by Tyler.”
Justin swore. “You’re joking, right?”
“I wish I was,” Grady said.
Justin’s face contorted, turned red. He started to speak, then stopped himself.
She didn’t know what to say to him. But the news made her dizzy. She leaned back against the sofa pillow. “That’s not the kind of person Floyd is. The man drives ten miles an hour below the speed limit. He’s no criminal.”
“Was,” Ellis said. “He changed after he met that girl on the internet. I heard he canceled all the upcoming events at the inn.”
Bailey’s body stiffened. “He didn’t cancel my paint night tomorrow.”
“You ran the art events, not Floyd,” Ellis said.
“I don’t know him as well as your sister does, but there must be a mistake.” Justin paced the length of the couch. The lines on his forehead deepened, more like canyons than wrinkles. “We have a top-notch team of lawyers. We might have misunderstood the permit process, but they’re professionals. They’d never fall for a scam deal.”
“Well, I heard Floyd gave the employees three days off with pay. Never told them the inn had been sold or they’d lost their jobs.” Ellis sat on the sofa arm. “That’s why no one was there last night or today.”
Oh, no. The staff. Bailey had been so worried about the inn itself she hadn’t thought about the employees. Floyd had worked with some of those people since he’d been a kid. None of this made sense. “That doesn’t sound like Floyd. He cares about those who work for him. He bought my senior prom dress when Dad wouldn’t pay for one without sleeves.”
“I know the guy was good to you.” Ellis’s voice softened, his tone compassionate. “Floyd bought fish from us for all these years, was often our biggest customer, but he’s not the same person. He’s changed.”
Justin shook his head. “Floyd might not have disclosed everything about the inn, but my sister negotiated a legal deal. She would never have paid cash otherwise.”
“Tyler’s client was a cash buyer, too. Part of Floyd’s requirements,” Grady said.
Ellis whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“No.” Bailey didn’t care what Grady said happened. “Floyd wouldn’t do that to me—to this town—and all the people who trusted him.”
“You’re right.” Ellis rolled his eyes. “Floyd headed to Belize with his twenty-five-year-old internet girlfriend and a suitcase of cash because of the good weather down there.”
“Floyd is fifty-five and he’s never married. He’s been lonely.” Bailey knew him better than her brothers did. “He’s been wanting to settle down for years.”
“With a woman less than half his age? The man has more money than common sense,” Ellis countered. “But now he’s added another zero or two to his net worth and he’s laughing all the way to some tropical island paradise with no extradition treaty.”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Grady cautioned.
“Guilty, bro. You know it.” Ellis sounded convinced. “Tyler will prove Floyd is nothing more than a two-bit criminal. His parents and grandparents must be rolling in their graves.”
Justin stopped pacing, pulled out his cell phone and looked at Grady. “I have to speak to our attorneys. Is there anything you need from me right now?”
“No,” Grady said. “But don’t dispose of anything you took from the inn. I’ll need you to return everything.”
Justin’s face paled. “The truck’s here in town. I’ll have my crew unload the contents.”
The on-edge tone tugged at Bailey’s heart. The day had gone from bad to worse for him. Justin might want something completely different for the inn than her, but that didn’t matter right now. The guy looked as if he’d been knocked over with his own wrecking ball. She wanted to reach out to him, but she didn’t dare in front of her brothers.
“Thanks for driving me home,” she said instead. “I’m sure Ellis or Grady can give you a ride back to the inn if you don’t want to walk.”
“I will,” Grady offered.
“Thanks,” Justin said, sounding anything but grateful.
Grady waved. “See you later.”
“Wait.” Bailey looked over the back of the sofa. “You never said who else bought the inn.”
Ellis and Grady exchanged a knowing glance. Both shifted their weight.
Uh-oh. “What?”
“We were hoping you wouldn’t ask,” Ellis said. “But since you did, AJ said it was okay to tell you.”
“What does AJ have to do with this?” she asked.
The lines on Justin’s forehead deepened. “AJ?”
“He’s our oldest brother,” she said.
“AJ Cole?” His voice matched the dumbstruck look on his face. “Your brother is the internet guy?”
Ellis nodded. “He’s the buyer Tyler represented in the second deal.”
She straightened, ignoring her foot. “Why would AJ want to buy the Broughton Inn? He’s never talked about owning a hotel.”
“AJ didn’t buy the inn for himself.” Grady looked as if he was about to jump out of a cake and yell surprise. “He bought the inn for you. Happy early birthday, sis!”
Huh? She blinked, Grady’s words echoing in her head as if she were standing on the edge of a canyon. Bought. Inn. For. You. She tried to make sense of the words, but failed as if this were a precalculus test and not a simple conversation she was trying to understand.
“Say what?” she asked.
Ellis beamed. She hadn’t seen him smile so brightly since his son Maddox hit a home run at a T-ball game last week. “The inn is yours.”
“Not so fast.” Justin raised his hands. “McMillian Resorts purchased the inn.”
“There are two owners for now,” Grady said. “The lawyers and the court will have to decide the true owner.”
Her gaze met Justin’s and held it for a long moment.
He looked away.
Bailey rested her head back against the sofa. She wanted to be independent, make her own way, not rely on her billionaire brother, but he’d come through in a way she never could have expected. The last thing she wanted was anything to take her away from her art, but at least now she could save the inn and jobs of everyone who worked there. Way to go, AJ.
“What do you have to say?” Ellis asked.
Ideas swirled through her brain, but first things first. She looked at Justin. “I want my key back.”