Adam whipped back around to face the lake. He heard the slide of the patio door above him and imagined Molly disappearing inside the room.
How long had she been on the balcony? Had she overheard their conversation? They’d been talking quietly, but sound carried out here. He’d been cognizant of their surroundings and being overheard, but he’d never thought to look up.
He rewound his conversation with Jordan. They’d been discussing his sales and the movie. Had they mentioned anything that would tie the conversation to Nathaniel Quinn? Had they talked about specific titles? Yes. Jordan had mentioned A Moment in Time.
He winced. If she’d been out there long enough, she had to know the truth.
Biting back frustration, he sprang to his feet, grabbed his laptop, and made his way down the incline of the yard. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he wasn’t going to stay here in plain view like a sitting duck. If she’d overheard them she’d seek him out. And he wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not even close.
He ran a hand over his face. His heart was thudding as though he’d just run five miles, and his lungs worked to keep pace.
Maybe she hadn’t been outside long enough to hear anything. Maybe she’d even been wearing earbuds. She wore them sometimes when she cleaned.
When he reached the shoreline, he stepped onto the pier and walked the length of it. It creaked and wobbled under his weight. As much as he longed to go far, far away, he couldn’t take out the boat—it had to be reserved and signed out. But there was a bench at the end of the dock that was all but hidden from the house by the trees. Good enough. He headed that way.
He had to plan for the worst. If Molly had overheard them she’d know he was Nathaniel Quinn. He’d have to own up to it. The thought was like a sucker punch.
He lowered his weight to the bench, his body drooping in dread. He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, fingers over his mouth.
It was always in the back of his mind—the fear of being found out. It had actually gotten worse over the years. Maybe he should’ve just put his real name on his books to begin with. But it was too late now. His secret identity had become a “thing,” and the revelation would be significant.
And disappointing Molly was now a very real possibility. He remembered the way Grace had teased her about her crush. Molly would remember that same conversation, and she’d be mortified all over again. And after realizing who he was, those feelings would be null and void.
He closed his eyes, wishing he could make himself disappear as easily as he could obliterate the image of the lake. All those times he’d disappointed his dad rose to the surface like buoys, bringing a load of hurt and a feeling of unworthiness that went core deep.
The pier vibrated with footsteps. His eyes popped open. So much for hiding. He resisted the urge to turn around. He knew it was Molly. He could feel her presence.
If she was seeking him out, she’d probably overheard the conversation. He had to accept that. Had to apologize for not being more forthcoming, especially after Grace had ratted her out. If things were too awkward—for either of them—he could always find another place to stay.
For some reason that only made him feel worse. Dread swelled inside until he felt consumed by it.
“Hey,” Molly said, caution in her tone.
He flickered a look at her, unable to hold her gaze. “Hi.”
She edged around the end of the bench. “Can I join you?”
“Sure.” He stared out at the water, not really seeing it. Her apple-y scent wrapped around him, and he found himself once again tongue-tied.
Molly drummed her fingers on her leg. “So . . . I have to admit that I overheard your conversation with your friend.”
His eyes shot to hers. She ducked her head before he could get a read on her.
“I’m really sorry—I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but I was cleaning the room and the guests left things on the balcony, so I went out there to pick up and I couldn’t help but overhear.” A flush had crept across her cheeks. She bit her lip, her fingers still drumming.
It was hard to say which of them might be more embarrassed. “It’s all right,” he eked out, because he’d say anything to put her at ease. But there was nothing he could say to fix this.
She turned those wide amber eyes up to him. “I know the truth—I know that . . .”
She must be so disappointed to find out her writing hero—her crush—was him. Nerdy, boring Adam Bradford. He fought against a familiar flood of despair.
He flinched even as his heart sank down to the planks at his feet. “Molly—”
“I figured out that Jordan is Nathaniel Quinn,” she finished.
Wait. What? He blinked.
“I mean, you were talking about a movie and then book sales, and you mentioned A Moment in Time by name, and that’s my very favorite.” Her hand pressed against her heart. “I mean, I love them all, but if I had to choose just one—I’ve read it a dozen times. Okay, maybe more like fifteen.” She covered her face with both hands. “I can’t believe he’s here. I’m shaking. I’m shaking like a leaf. Look.” She held out her hands.
They were indeed trembling.
She placed one hand at her throat. “Nathaniel Quinn, right here, staying at our inn . . . It’s inconceivable. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the Nathaniel Quinn is staying right here under the same roof as me. I know I already said that, but it bears repeating.”
He had to correct her—didn’t he? “Um . . . Molly . . .”
“So you came here to research the location of his next book, right?” Her eyes suddenly lit. “Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul, I promise. I know his anonymity is a big deal and—what’s up with that anyway? But no, never mind. None of my business. Mum’s the word.” She zipped her lips closed and threw an imaginary key into the lake.
He’d never even once considered the idea of Molly running her mouth. “Thank you,” he managed.
“Of course. I’d never do anything to—well, and besides, he’s a guest of the inn. We have to be discreet, you know.”
“Um, he’ll appreciate that. We both do.” What was he doing? He was crossing a line. It was one thing to leave something important out of the conversation and quite another to go along with a lie.
“And, uh, maybe you can not mention to him what Grace said? About my little, you know, crush or whatever?” Her face turned a deeper shade of red. “I know it’s silly but— Unless, you already told him? Please tell me you haven’t told him.”
“No. No, of course not.” He deserved to go to hell when he died.
“Oh. Good. I feel so silly now that he’s here. I mean, five million women are probably infatuated with him. Nathaniel Quinn isn’t going to want to be stuck here with an innkeeper-slash-fan who’s harboring a raging crush on him.”
She might be surprised.
“I mean, I don’t have any idea why he hides his identity, but he must be a little reclusive or not like attention or something.” Her brows drew together thoughtfully. “Although now that I think about it, he didn’t seem particularly shy. He seemed rather congenial, actually—and I’m totally not trying to pry information out of you. I promise. You must be sworn to secrecy. I get it.”
Unable to conjure up actual words, he gave her a bland smile.
She suddenly sat up straight. “You know, let’s just pretend I didn’t hear a word. I know nothing, nothing at all. He’s just a regular old guest. How’s that? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. That wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, and around here we have to be, above all else, hospitable.” She paused, her brows raised.
He took that as his cue to respond. “Right. That’s—a good idea.”
“All right. It’s settled then. I feel much better.” She popped to her feet. “Whew! Glad to have that off my chest. Now I really have to get back to work. I’ve been ignoring Levi’s texts, and he’s fixing to hunt me down. Thanks, Adam. Have a great afternoon.”
“You too, Molly.”
He looked out to the lake. What in the world just happened? Whirlwind Molly had come along, making assumptions, and he’d just let her, that’s what.
The dock gave a hard shimmy, and he turned in time to see Molly finishing up a little sashay at the other end of the pier. Obviously she was on cloud nine because Nathaniel Quinn was sleeping under her roof. She was absolutely right—and absolutely wrong all at the same time.