7. Gabe
CHAPTER 7
GABE
“W hat do you mean, you don’t?”
“I mean,” says Benjamin, slowly raising his eyebrows as if to say, are you completely stupid or just deaf? “We don’t have any rooms. I think there must have been some sort of festival in the city because this week we’ve had an absolute rush of people wanting to stay. I’ve never seen anything like it. As you know, we only have a few rooms, and only one or two of them are usually ever occupied at once. To have someone in all five is a miracle. Really, it’s great business.”
“But it’s not great for us,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Look, she’s been through a lot. You’re telling me that you don’t have anything. Not a single room for her. Not so much as a fold-out bed.” Her eyes are boring holes into me, and I clench my jaw, refusing to look. I’m not a white knight for her. I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart.
I’m doing it to do her a favor and get her out of my hair.
Benjamin shakes his head regretfully. “Believe me, the idea of turning good business away… it doesn’t fill me with joy either. But a full room is a full room. We don’t so much as have a manger for you to stay in.”
It’s a weak joke, and when he turns back to Carly, she has that pathetic, tearful look in her eyes again. I suppose it’s understandable, given the circumstances. She shouldn’t show so much weakness by crying, but I suppose a pity point might make Benjamin feel sorry for her.
Not that Benjamin needs to be swayed by a pretty girl crying. He’s got a soft enough heart that he’d do anything for anyone. I suppose that’s technically a nice quality. I suppose I technically shouldn’t call her a girl either. She can’t be that much younger than me.
But when her cheeks flush against her pale skin like this and her wide, watery blue eyes draw you in, it’s hard to think of her as anything except a woman. I might not like other people very much, but I’m not an idiot, and I certainly know how to appreciate a fine beauty when she’s in front of me.
“Let me talk to Maude,” says Benjamin. “I’ll see what we can do.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
It’s common knowledge that while Benjamin owns the place and runs the bar, the room and board section of the business is all handled by his wife. Maude is a fierce businesswoman, and she’s single-handedly the reason why Mullen Falls has anything even remotely resembling tourism. There’s not a whole lot here, but she’s managed to spin the internet a wild tale of us being an exciting and historical town, somewhere worth visiting.
I find the tourists totally irritating. They stare at us like zoo animals, like we’re not really people. Like our lives aren’t worth anything because we live in a town that they perceive as being backward. That’s the vibe I’m getting from Carly too — someone who means well but, without realizing it, is calling us all primitive idiots. We’re not. We’re proud of our town. It’s small, and we might lead simple lives, but they’re big enough for us. God knows we have enough drama without this town being any bigger than it is.
It’s part of why I stopped coming into the inn. I couldn’t stand to hear the locals gossiping about who was dating who or who was moving out and who was moving in, who owned what car, and who was painting their front door red or blue or bright pink. I don’t see why it should be anybody’s business what other people do. I like my privacy, and I don’t much care for the business of other people either.
That, and I remember the gossip when I came back. All the rumors that swirled around me. The talk about my mom and dad, the funeral, the speculation about who I might have met, what I might be doing.
I couldn’t stand it. I still can’t.
We sit in silence waiting for Benjamin to come back. Carly has grabbed a napkin, and she’s fiddling nervously with the corner. I try not to notice her hands: her perfect manicure, her long fingers. They’re the hands of someone who moisturizes often and doesn’t do any manual labor. They’re not hands that belong in a small town like this.
Eventually, Benjamin comes back and shakes his head. “We can’t even offer you our guest room. I’m sorry. We have some friends staying from out of town, and between them and our kids, our house is full. I can ask around and see?—”
“No,” I say, interrupting. “I have a spare room. She’ll take it.”
“I will?” Carly stares at me, wide-eyed in shock. “What makes you so sure of that?”
“You want to get left out on the street to freeze?”
“I… I…” Her lips quiver, pink and full, her face a picture of innocence and vulnerability. “No,” she says slowly. “I don’t want to freeze. But I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“You already have been,” I say. “I have a spare room and plenty of hot water. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come back to my place and stay until your car’s ready to go.”
Her lips quiver again, but she nods, realizing that she would be stupid to let her pride get in the way of such a good offer. “Okay. Thank you. I see what Benjamin means about you having a good heart.”
She smiles. My frown deepens.
I have a reputation for being no-nonsense. The very fact that I’m in this bar is going to mean that I’m the talk of the town tomorrow, and everyone’s going to be gossiping about it for weeks.
Taking a girl home isn’t going to help the situation any. But I don’t care. I never have cared what people think of me, and I’m not going to start now. This is the right thing to do, no matter how irritating it is. She needs help, and I can provide it.
After all, I can’t imagine her surviving very long with Mrs. Andrews, who no doubt would be the first to take Carly in. That old woman is the worst of all for gossiping. She would have Carly’s entire life out of her in minutes and have given her the rundown of every single person in town before an hour was out.
At least I’m going to leave her alone. She’s none of my business, and my business is none of hers.
Besides, it’s only going to be a few days. I can cope with a few days.
It’s my good deed for the year. After this, I can go back to being a social recluse, lurking in the shadows where I’m comfortable. Helping people out where they need it, like some sort of silent hero.
This is just a few days. What can possibly go wrong?