Chapter 10 #2
“If he wants a repeat, he’ll let us know.”
Monty grunted, obviously not satisfied with my reply, and rinsed the cloth again. He moved on to the lowest shelf.
“What if the renovations are done and he leaves?”
“Isn’t that the plan?”
Instead of a reply, I got another grunt. He started cleaning the bottles, wiping nonexistent dust from them and carefully setting them back on the shelves, lining them up like art pieces in a museum.
“Call your dad and ask how it’s going. He’s the one doing the job at Laurel’s, isn’t he?”
“I can’t just ask him that. He’d get suspicious.”
“Why would he think it was suspicious? You could just be asking because you want to know how long Laurel will be staying at the B&B.”
“No way. He’d hear something in my voice and tell my pa… No.”
Monty really was gaga for Laurel, wasn’t he? Not that I could blame him. I wouldn’t have kicked Laurel out of my bed had I happened to find him there. I was getting glimpses of the real guy behind the posh persona, and I was starting to like him.
But seeing Monty distraught over him drove home what I’d always known—the peace I’d found with Monty was temporary. One day, he’d meet his fated omega, and I would have to move on.
I eyed the bottles on the counter, wondering if we could sit down and drink a few shots. Oblivion seemed tempting.
Just then, the front door opened, and a blast of cold air hit my neck before it shut again.
“Hi,” came from behind me.
I turned to Laurel, and one look at his face made it clear that he hadn’t received the news he’d been hoping for.
“Hiya!” Monty sang, and threw the kitchen towel over his shoulder. He put his palms on the counter by the very bottle of rum we’d nearly finished last night. There was less than an inch left.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Laurel grimaced. “They can’t do more until the sinks arrive. I might need to stay here for a few more days.”
Monty’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Of course you can.”
“You sure it’s not a problem?”
“Not in the least.”
Laurel eyed me as if to ask if Monty was for real.
I shrugged. “It’s the lowest of low seasons. And it’s not like the B&B earns much when there’s high season.”
Frowning, Laurel tapped a finger on the rum bottle. “Can I have one?”
Monty grabbed a snifter before I could. “Sure.”
“Just one this time,” Laurel said.
Nodding, Monty filled one glass and moved it toward Laurel, who inhaled from it, hummed, and asked, “How do you survive when you earn jack shit?”
Unperturbed by the direct question, my boss corked the bottle and put it aside. After what happened last night, it was probably wise. “The pub compensates for it,” he replied. “Besides, most of my income comes from the lumber mill.”
“The mill?” Laurel blinked in confusion.
Monty hated money talk, so I figured I could explain.
“Montgomery here is the heir of the Wolf clan, the ninth generation of Beauville bears. Owns half of the forests around here, the lumber mill, the pub, this B&B, a few houses on the main street, and cottages up on the slopes that he rents out. Too cheap, if you ask me.”
Running the towel over the counter aimlessly, Monty shrugged. “My family doesn’t need the money, and people need somewhere to live.”
Our guest gazed at Monty with a stunned smile. “You’re unbelievable.”
Laurel was finally getting it, wasn’t he?
Montgomery Wolf was the real deal, the diamond in the mud, and there were a hundred reasons why shifters around here loved the hell out of him, despite the shit that occasionally came out of his mouth.
Monty wouldn’t hurt a fly, and with everything he had, he tried to give back.
Laurel sipped from his rum glass while I helped Monty to stack the bottles back onto the shelves. It took barely half a minute when he wasn’t obsessively sorting and angling them.
“Your assistant, the guy who dropped you off, didn’t want to stay for a drink?” Monty asked casually. I knew him well enough to guess the question was anything but casual. He was fishing.
“Nah. It’s late, and Sam had to drive back to Green Peaks.”
“He could have stayed over in one of the rooms here.”
Laurel waved off the idea. “He’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with me every day. After what I’ve put him through, poor guy deserves a vacation.”
Monty’s expression crumbled. For a terrifying moment, I thought he was going to force a hug on Laurel.
But he schooled his face into serious interest and perched on a barstool next to him. I deemed it safer to stay behind the counter.
Monty leaned close to Laurel, unleashing the full power of his big brown eyes. “Laurel, how come you’re here alone?”
It would be another of his honest outbursts.
“I told you, I needed a break,” Laurel said defensively.
“But you don’t look happy about being alone.”
Uh-oh. I braced myself for impact. Laurel had been inexplicably tolerant toward Monty so far, but everyone had a limit. I tried to catch Monty’s gaze, but he was avoiding looking at me. “Monty…”
“It’s true,” he quipped innocently.
“Just because something seems true to you doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud without thinking,” I said.
But Laurel lifted his palm to stop me. “No, Monty’s right.” His face looked stone cold, but his eyes glazed over.
“What about your friends?” Monty asked quietly.
Laurel swirled the snifter and gazed at the last few drops of the golden drink as if it held all the answers. “I have Calvin. But he’s spending twelve hours a day with a kid attached to his chest.”
My big teddy bear looked flabbergasted. He had a phonebook full of people he called friends, and most of them liked him back. “There’s nobody else?”
“People… I don’t know.” Laurel blew out a breath.
“I’m not good at friendships. Or any other kind of relationships.
Calvin only stuck around because he’s the nicest person on the planet.
The others… They either work for me or want a piece of me.
Nobody ever wants the real me. Not that I can blame them. ”
In the subsequent quiet, the grandfather clock on the wall let out a quiet ding.
Then Monty opened his mouth again. “I get why people stay away from you.”
“Montgomery, for fuck’s sake…” I tried, but Laurel put a hand on my arm.
“I want to hear it.” He swiveled to face Monty, and his gaze hardened. “Why do you think?”
Monty wriggled on the barstool and, for once, he looked a little nervous. “You’re beautiful and famous, right? But you want people to love the real you, beneath the fame and the face. Except you don’t give anyone a chance.”
“I don’t?”
“You seem kind of absent-minded, like you don’t care about what’s going on around you.
And you can be a little, um, snippy. I suppose if you weren’t beautiful and famous, most people wouldn’t dare try to get close to you.
So maybe the real people, who could become actual friends, stay away.
And you’re left with the ones who want you for the golden finish. ”
Laurel gaped. He looked shocked, a little pale, his glassy eyes wide.
Monty just told the greatest rock star of our generation, who everyone was constantly trying to schmooze and impress, that his unhappiness was his own fault because he treated people around him like shit.
That would land like a lead balloon.
“I think you should apologize, Monty,” I said quietly. “Not that it’ll help.”
Laurel closed his mouth and looked around as if waking up in a different reality. He banged his fist on the countertop, making Monty jerk.
“You…”
I prepared myself for an avalanche of curses or a storming off.
Laurel glared at Monty, his eyes flashing. When he was mad, he looked sexier, if that was possible. What he said next was unexpected.
“You’re right. You’re fucking right, you asshole.”
I eyed them both.
Monty didn’t look happy about the acknowledgment. If anything, he seemed sadder.
Shaking his head, Laurel heaved a mighty sigh and threw back the rest of his rum. “I’m my own problem.”
If Monty wanted to get Laurel Riley into his bed, he had a really weird way of going about it. Even after insulting him, he kept gazing at Laurel beseechingly.
“But I think people should try harder to get to know you. Because you have a beautiful soul. One just has to listen to the lyrics you write.”
Aha! And there it was. The way Monty made everybody love him.
Laurel frowned. “It was the least successful album I made. My producer doesn’t want me to write my own lyrics anymore.”
“That’s bullshit. Every single song on there is amazing. I know all of them by heart.”
“Nice save, Montgomery,” Laurel said, and lifted his eyes toward me. “It would be a really bad idea to have another glass of that nice rum, huh?”
“Weren’t you a little hungover this morning?” I asked. Apparently, Monty wasn’t the only one who didn’t know when to shut up.
“I just want to sleep, man.”
I covered his glass with my palm. “There are better ways. If anything, getting drunk will fuck up your sleep more.”
“I know. But what better ways? It’s not like I can ask you two to fuck me into oblivion.”
Silence.
Laurel seemed shocked by his own words, but he didn’t take them back. He sat frozen, like us.
He just threw a bomb on the floor, and it didn’t explode. And we were all dumbstruck, waiting for it to go off.
I met Monty’s eyes, and he gazed back, bewildered but oh-so hopeful.
So I decided to give him a break.
I walked around the bar and stopped by Laurel’s barstool, just a tad too close for polite company. Slowly, he turned to face me, and I quirked an eyebrow.
“No fucking. But we can make you come a few times if that helps?”