“Someone did,” he said flatly. “Someone hurt her plenty.”
Tara nodded and sipped her water. “Past tense, though. She’s getting stronger. You should have seen her giving poor old Mr. Jenkins what-for when he tried to rent another boat this morning.” She smiled fondly. “She got all up in his grill, made him sign the form at her desk and say please and everything.”
He would have enjoyed seeing that. “She was down a quart in self-esteem and confidence when she first got here.”
“And that’s changing, in good part thanks to you.” She stared into her glass. “She wants to make a go of this place. Only a complete bitch would turn her down.”
“Then don’t turn her down.”
Chapter 17
“Learn from others’ mistakes. You don’t have
enough time to make them all yourself.”
PHOEBE TRAEGER
A few days later, Maddie headed into the tiny laundry room of the inn carrying a load of rags and towels. As an afterthought, she added in her filthy sneakers.
“That’s a pretty flimsy excuse to get some dryer therapy,” Tara said, folding her clean clothes into perfect piles.
“Dryer therapy?”
“Sugar, everyone knows the shoes-in-the-dryer trick. But the dryer’s got nothin’ on the spin cycle.” She gave a wicked smile and left.
Maddie shook her head, then added detergent. While the load ran, she padded to the linen closet to continue cataloguing sheets and towels on the computer for inventory purposes. She’d downloaded several new programs designed specifically for running a small inn and was having more fun than she’d thought possible organizing and modernizing the place. Both Tara and Chloe were amazed and thrilled at her skills but baffled as to the happiness it gave her to organize.
That was okay. She didn’t understand enjoying cooking or practicing yoga or making spa treatments, either. Hell, she barely enjoyed using the spa treatments.
She glanced at her watch. For two days running, Ford had been giving her boating lessons. He was teaching her about all the marina’s equipment, how to use and care for it, but her favorite part had been learning what stern and stem meant.
Take that, Mr. Jenkins.
Jax was still building their new vanities at his shop, so he’d not been around during the day. She realized he was giving her the space he thought she wanted. But she’d come here to Lucky Harbor not wanting her past to count against her-which meant she had no right to count Jax’s against him.
That was logic.
Her heart wasn’t feeling so logical. She knew that Alex’s law degree wasn’t what made him an abusive asshole, and a lying one at that.
Jax hadn’t lied, but he had held back. She’d be the liar if she said that it didn’t bother her.
But then there was the biggest problem: was she ready to trust herself again with a man? Blowing out a breath, she went back to the laundry room to check on the loud clunking sound coming from the washer. Her tennis shoes. Tara’s words floated in her head-the dryer’s got nothing on the spin cycle.
Suddenly it hit her what Tara had meant. Surely she couldn’t-could she? She glanced out the small window. No cars in the yard. She was alone.
As usual.
She stared at the shuddering washer and bit her lip. Then she hopped up on it. Just to disprove the theory, of course.
Wow.
Gripping the sides of the machine tightly as the ride began, she had to admit that Tara had been on to something.
The thing had great rhythm.
Eighteen minutes later, she shuddered in brief ecstasy then slumped back against the wall. Eyes closed, she stayed there catching her breath. Not nearly as good as Jax’s fingers-or other parts-but it had definitely taken the edge off-
The washer suddenly stopped.
In the jarring silence, she opened her eyes. Jax stood in front of her as if she’d conjured him up, his finger on the off button.
Oh, God. Arousal and embarrassment warred for space inside her, but she managed both with equal aplomb-she was nothing if not an excellent multitasker. “How long have you been there?”
He stroked a damp curl off her forehead and pressed a single soft kiss to the pulse racing at the base of her throat. “Just got there. You okay?”
Lord, the things he could do her with those lips. “Y-yes.”
“Sure?”
“Uh-huh.” She tried to look innocent. Like maybe she always just sat around. On a washer. While it was running. “Why?”
“Because you’re all breathless and a little sweaty.” His eyes were darkening, his voice lowering in timbre. “And you’re sitting on a washer.”
“Well, look at that, I am. There’s a perfectly good reason, actually.”
“Yeah?” he asked huskily.
“Yeah.” She bit her lower lip. “Except I don’t want to say.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes hot enough to fry her brain. Bracketing her hips with a fist on either side of her, he ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear, his voice soft and thick. “Was this one of those solo expeditions, Maddie?”
“No.” She closed her eyes and shivered when he lightly bit her earlobe. Oh, God. “Maybe.”
He groaned, and she drew in a shuddery breath. “And other than you, it’s my most successful expedition in a long time.”
He let out a soft bark of laughter and ran his thumb along her lower lip until her mouth trembled open, then leaned in for a kiss. “There’s nothing wrong with solo,” he murmured against her mouth. “But not solo is preferable.”
“Oh,” she breathed, trembling as he ran his hands down her body, his fingers grazing the sides of her breasts, then her hips and thighs.
“Are you still thinking, Maddie? About us? Still taking a step back?”
She stared up at him, wanting him more than her next breath, but… but. He’d held back, and she couldn’t help the feeling that there was more.
“Ball’s in your court,” he said, and before she could finish catching her breath, he hit the power button. The clunking started up again, and she let out an involuntary gasp, gripping the sides of the washer for all she was worth.
Flashing her a slow, heated smile, he left her alone.
Two weeks. Maddie had been in Lucky Harbor for two weeks, and they’d been the best fourteen days of her life. Now she had two weeks left until Christmas to do what she had to do.
All along, she’d hoped that she’d be able to convince Tara and Chloe to give the inn a real shot.
She’d believed she could.
But that belief had just died with one shake of her loan officer’s head.
Denied.
With a rough sigh, she left the bank, got into her car, and dropped her head to the steering wheel. She had the start of a headache pounding behind her right eye, her stomach was in knots, and the interior of her car felt like it was closing in on her as the loan officer’s words echoed in her brain.
I’m sorry, Ms. Traeger, but you’ve been turned down for the refinancing. In today’s economy, we have to work up against tougher regulations and qualifications, and you and your sisters didn’t qualify.
Didn’t qualify…
You’re a loser…
Okay, so she hadn’t said that last part, but Maddie had felt like a loser. Dammit, they’d needed that loan, both for the renovations and to get the inn up and running.
Not to mention paying off the credit card debt the three of them were racking up.
A shuddery sigh escaped her, but she refused to cry. Couldn’t cry. She hadn’t told her sisters that she’d had the bank meeting this morning. They thought they wouldn’t be hearing until the end of the week.