Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Sheridan
I peeled my eyes open.
The bed smelled like cedar and pine and the sheets were navy blue instead of blush. Where was I?
I sat up and my head spun. The thudding made me squeeze my eyes shut. I pressed my fingertips to my temples. Ugh. This sucked.
Squinting as if the small amount of light sneaking around the shades was a full-on assault from the sun, my gaze landed on the end table. There was a new toothbrush, a bottle of water, and a container of acetaminophen.
I was at Jasper’s house.
“…we’ll talk about how this nice guy wants to…”
I blinked. Did I imagine that confession?
He was just making me feel better. I was drunk and being a realist, and he thought I was being down on myself. Jasper was like that. But the things he said…
I guzzled the water, experienced a fresh wave of dizziness, and popped some meds. I inhaled, and the savory smell of breakfast cooking hit my nose. There went my plan of sneaking out and saving face.
It wasn’t like I could avoid him.
I looked down at myself. I was in a large KCC shirt that smelled like the sheets.
Like him. His clothing. He’d set it out for me to sleep in, and thankfully, I hadn’t whipped my shirt off in front of him.
I didn’t want to change, but I needed to freshen up.
I took the toothbrush, my clothing from the top of the dresser, and poked my head out of the room.
There was an empty hallway and kitchen sounds.
I scurried to the bathroom across the hall.
Only a little of my mascara had smudged. My saving grace was not waking up in a “Who Did It Better” contest with a raccoon. I’d take it. I didn’t wear much makeup otherwise. Making a quick decision, I figured a shower was best. I might have to put my clothes back on, but it was better than nothing.
I ran through the shower, using the products that smelled like him.
Almost as good as wearing his shirt. I toweled off the best I could and brushed my teeth.
The mirror showed a wan reflection, but pink was fusing into my cheeks from moving around.
I finger-combed my curls. There was probably a hair tie in my car.
After tidying as much as I could in the bathroom and bedroom, I braved the trek to the kitchen. This could’ve been a walk of shame, but he’d taken care of me. I’d been drunk and lonely, and he’d tucked me right into bed.
Jasper leaned against the counter, thumbing through his phone. Heat wound through me. How was he more attractive? His disheveled hair only made him seem more approachable, like I could ask just what he meant when he said—
Now was not the time.
He lifted his gaze off his screen. Concern crinkled the corners of his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Like I could get tipsy again and forget about everything for another blissful night with him. But the reality was too stark. “About the drink or that I might lose everything to some developer?”
He grimaced. None of my drama was his issue, but he was affected because of me.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to put this on you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His smile was kind. “You have enough on your mind. Hungry?”
My stomach cramped. No, I wasn’t, but I needed food or I’d feel sicker. There was a ton on my mind, but nothing that required me running out on a breakfast he’d made me. “I should eat.”
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the table.
I did, and I was served scrambled eggs, ham, and hash browns. He sat in the chair next to me.
“Is this all homemade?” I asked as I dug in. Oh my god, was this guy good at everything? The eggs were fluffy and perfect with the ham, and the hash browns were the right level of crispy. He cooked the hangover medicine I needed.
“I’ve been a bachelor too long not to know how to cook.” He was mixing all the food together on his plate.
“But the hash browns aren’t store-bought.”
“I had a couple of potatoes I needed to use.”
The man was talented with his hands, but the only skills he used on me were mowing, fixing faucets, and squeezing moisture out of shredded potatoes.
I ate, and once my belly was full, the delicious food started to taste like cardboard.
I set my fork down. I didn’t want to burden him, but I had no one else to talk to. “What do I do?”
Muscles in his jaw flexed as he chewed his last bite. He didn’t answer right away but wiped his hands off and pushed his plate away.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” He got up and gathered our dishes.
“Can I help?”
“Nope.” He retrieved a notebook and pen from a drawer and returned. “Let’s list the things Bishop’s Landing can give people that a bigger place can’t.”
“Not lakefront access,” I said bitterly. Would it even help if I was able to secure access? I didn’t have the means for competition.
He paused. “No. Not yet.”
Another thought occurred to me, and I nearly heaved all my food.
“They’re going to buy the property. I’m never going to be able to offer more than them.
” This faceless group of who knew how many people could be circling Linda like vultures, waiting for her to decide to sell.
They’d swoop in and gobble the land up like carrion.
Then my resort would be dead and rotting, and I’d have to find a new place for a fresh start with no parents as safety nets.
“You don’t know that.”
But I did. My laugh came out uneven. “Oh, trust me. The way it’s all been going, I do. Oh my gosh. Do I close down shop now? Do I—”
“Sheridan.” He stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “What makes your place stand out? Other than you?”
He thought I was the standout of Bishop’s Landing? His words should’ve chased away my headache better than the food, but I couldn’t come up with anything. “We don’t do anything they can’t do. Nothing.” When he gave me a hard look, I sighed. What did people say about us in reviews and to my face?
The décor is worn, but it’s a clean place to stay. Nice location.
Quiet. Clean. Outdated.
If it wasn’t for the restaurant, I’d stay in town.
“It’s not me that makes the place. It’s Paola and her seafood.”
He wrote that down, his penmanship strong and neat. “What else?”
“We’re small but cozy. That can be a con too.”
He put small on the con side and cozy on the pro side. “You give love to the area.”
“It’s an ode to Bishop’s Bay.” Since the bay was named after my grandparents, our family was part of the land’s history, and my parents wanted to highlight the pride we had. “We aren’t a party spot, though.”
“That’s going to be a pro. It’s how you get regulars.”
“We have the fishing tournaments.” One later in the summer and one in the winter. “I’d like to say with those, we’d be fine. Most of the anglers have boats and don’t need direct access. The normal tourists and families who want a fun, lakeside vacation? The lack of water access makes a difference.”
He put the pen down, his features grim. “Linda’s my aunt.”
I gave my head a shake. The dull thud behind my eyes resumed. Was that a pro or a con? His words clarified. Linda was his aunt? He’d blurted it out, looking as guilty as my ex who’d slept with a college guy. Confusion and something too close to hurt swirled in my chest. “You never said a thing.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
It would’ve felt less like he’d been hiding something from me. Whatever. It wasn’t my business. Yet it wasn’t not my business, was it? “Okay.”
“I can talk to her about this and put in a good word for you.” He said this too hesitantly for me to launch any sort of optimism.
Why wouldn’t he have done that earlier? Maybe they didn’t get along. The woman seemed mercurial. Aloof at best. Easily irritated. Jasper was the opposite, and perhaps that created a rift between them. The thought made me feel better. “You think it’ll help?”
A few emotions I couldn’t identify played through his face, none of them boding well for me. “I don’t know. Linda has strong convictions, and she’ll stand by them no matter what. It’s too soon to say what she’ll do.”
Meaning he could talk until the world ran out of air, but if she wanted to sell to the new guys, she would. Another question popped into my mind. “Why isn’t she putting the property up for sale until the end of summer?”
His jaw went hard. “It’s, uh, involved in a family trust, and there are some time constraints for if and when she can sell.”
“She mentioned something about a trust.”
Relief crossed his face, but there was still something there, like there was more that I would find insightful, but he wasn’t telling me.
I was imagining it. Maybe. Regardless, it was confusing and my head was finally starting to clear. Jasper didn’t need to fix all my problems. I was the boss. The owner. Yet I was too tempted to become reliant on him. He had no ties to the resort.
“Thank you for the food.” I tapped the notebook. “And for helping me realize that I need to figure out what sets the resort apart and capitalize on it.”
“This list is short, but there’s a lot more.”
I pushed back from the table. “I know, and I really should go and get a jump on planning what I could do to face the competition. There are a lot of small, inexpensive changes I can make.”
“It’s the weekend.”
“I know. Fewer distractions, and I might go online and research other places. I’m not the only one to have gone through this.
” I also needed space from this man who was so willing to coach me through all my issues.
I was the owner. I had to figure it out.
Or it was for nothing. Leaving college. Working jobs that fit me as well as a toddler’s tracksuit. All of it.
He rose, not moving fast, like he worried I’d spook like one of the horses he must’ve worked with. “See you Monday, then?”
“Sure.” I was rushing to the door, but when I went to whip it open, he put a hand on it.
A wall of his heat was behind me. My pulse jumped, but it wasn’t from fear.
“Sheridan,” he said softly. “Why are you running away? Is it about my aunt?”