Chapter 27
Just a few minutes later, I snapped an elastic band around my hair, adjusted my ponytail, and pushed my way through the swinging door.
The man I’d spied earlier was still here.
He was my age or maybe a little bit older, with messy dark hair and tortoiseshell glasses.
His clothes were casual, but his manner radiated a kind of bureaucratic professionalism.
Instead of taking a seat as I’d suggested, he was pacing, peering around like a building inspector.
Casey sat, rigid and alert, keeping an eye on him.
“Welcome to the Sunny Side,” I said as I stepped into the lobby. “Can I help you?”
The man turned his inspector-like gaze on me. “You’re Hannah, right?” he asked.
He knew who I was? That took me off guard.
As I made my way behind the front desk, I looked at the guy more closely.
And okay, I had to admit, his appearance rang a bell.
Oh, he wasn’t familiar in the constant, nagging, all-consuming way that Xander had been familiar.
But maybe we’d attended the same middle school or shopped at the same grocery store?
“I’m Hannah Bell, yes,” I said. “My family owns the bed-and-breakfast. And you are…?”
“Jack Lee,” he said with a bright smile, joining me at the desk.
Jack Lee…Jack Lee, I thought. Why do I know that name?
Then, it hit me.
“Oh,” I said. “You’re the buyer who made my parents an offer on this place.”
His cheeks reddened, and he stared down at his shoes. “An offer they turned down, unfortunately.”
“Well, if you’re hoping to talk to them about it, I’m afraid they’re out of town,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. “They won’t be back for a few weeks yet.”
His gaze shot up. “No, no, that’s not why I’m here,” he said quickly.
“I mean, yes, if they were around, I’d love the opportunity to see if we could still work out a deal.
But, um…I’m in Atlantic City on some other business.
And I have a reservation. I know it’s early, but if my room is available, I’d like to check in now. ”
“A reservation?” I said the word as if I’d never heard it before. Boy, it was a good thing my folks weren’t selling to this Jack Lee guy. If he were about to become the new owner of the Sunny Side, my incompetent behavior would put me out of a job for sure.
My ignorance didn’t seem to bother him though. “Sorry,” he said, as if he was the one who needed to apologize. “Did the booking not go through? I thought I got a confirmation email.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his messages. “I made the reservation online last night.”
Last night. Right. I’d been otherwise occupied all last night. And given everything that had happened this morning, I hadn’t had a chance to check for any new bookings.
Only, why had he reserved a room here? There was certainly no shortage of places to stay in Atlantic City, especially in the off season. And after losing his bid to buy the place, it did seem a little desperate. Like wanting to be friends with the person who broke your heart.
Unless…
How badly did he want the Sunny Side, anyway? And what was he willing to do to get it? Suddenly, I thought about that old horror movie where the unsuspecting young couple rents out their spare room to a man who terrorizes them while he tries to steal their house.
Okay, now I was being ridiculous. This was real life, not a psychological thriller. And Jack Lee really wasn’t giving off any boarder-from-hell vibes. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn away a paying guest.
But if he was going to stay here, I was going to show him that the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast was already in good hands. The best hands. While he was still busy scrolling, I woke up the computer screen and started typing, doing my best to imitate my mother’s efficient keystrokes.
“Ah, here it is,” I said crisply. “Jack Lee. So, it looks like you’ll be with us for just the one night, Mister Lee?”
“Please,” he said. “You and I once built a fort out of bath towels together in the housekeeping closet. I think you can call me Jack.”
That threw me. “We did?” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you lived here,” he said. He sounded almost…wistful. “You probably had adventures like that all the time. I only got two weeks every summer.”
Riiight. According to my father, the man who’d wanted to purchase the B and B had spent vacations here as a kid.
“Hey, do you still keep that big bowl of hard candies back there?” he asked, pointing behind the desk.
“Uh, yeah. We do.” I reached down to the shelf below, grabbed the giant glass bowl full of sweets, and plunked it down on the countertop. “Help yourself.”
As he grinned and fished around, I spotted some leftover candy canes still in there.
I probably should have thought to remove them once the holiday season had passed.
But having candy for the kids who stayed here had always been my mother’s thing.
Until this guy had mentioned it, I’d forgotten the bowl was even here.
“These were always my favorites,” he said, plucking out a watermelon-flavored Jolly Rancher. “Your mother always used to say, ‘Just one per customer,’ but then she’d slip me extras on the sly.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “That sounds like her,” I said. “She always goes out of her way to make all the guests feel special. She loves this place.”
“I always loved it too,” he said. And the way he said it, I knew it was true.
I should have taken it as a compliment. I was sure he’d meant it that way. But for some reason, it felt like criticism. Like he was somehow criticizing me.
Time to wrap this up.
“I’m going to put you in 203, Mis—uh, Jack,” I said. Quickly, I activated the key card and slid it across the desk to him. Then, I launched into the usual spiel. “Do you have a vehicle?” I asked. “We can validate parking.”
“No,” he said. “I took the jitney from the train station.”
“Would you like me to show you up to your room?” I asked.
“No need,” he said. “I know my way around.”
“Do you need any help with your bags?” I asked.
He shook his head and indicated a wheeled duffel bag parked by the sofa. “I’ve just got the one,” he said. “I can manage on my own.”
“All righty then,” I said. “Breakfast is—”
“Seven to ten in the dining room,” he finished. “I remember.”
I glanced at the clock over the fireplace.
Crap. It was just about 7:00 a.m. now. Technically, he wasn’t entitled to breakfast this morning.
But that wasn’t how we did things at the Sunny Side, was it?
Even if my parents weren’t here, my ancestors were watching me from the photos on the walls.
Plus, I was still feeling the irrational need to prove something, to impress this guy with my hospitality skills.
“We’re serving now,” I said, hoping he’d already eaten. “So, if you wanted—”
“Excellent!” he said. “Let me drop my things in my room and wash my hands, then I’ll be right down.”
* * *
As soon as I heard Jack Lee open the door to his second-floor guest room, I sped back out to the deck.
I was relieved to see Xander looking loads better, basically like himself again.
Unfortunately, he was looking like his other self, his creature-of-the-deep self.
He was still sitting in the hot tub, merman tail and all.
He, Drew, and Garth turned toward me. I watched three pairs of eyes read my expression and narrow with concern.
Drew was the first to speak. “What’s wrong, Han?”
“We have a guest,” I said. “And he’ll be back downstairs for breakfast any minute.”
I watched as everyone took that in. Then, in a move that would have been worthy of a member of the US Men’s Gymnastics Team, Xander braced his arms on the lip of the spa and swung himself out of the water, spraying the deck with a shower of droplets.
If I wasn’t so worried about him being outed as a merman, I would have been extremely impressed, scoring him a perfect ten.
“Can someone please get me a towel?” Xander asked, perching on the edge of the Jacuzzi.
I frowned. Even with a towel, Xander’s transformation would take between five and ten minutes. I wasn’t sure we had that long.
“Is there any way you can dry off quicker?” I asked.
“Do you have a space heater?” Garth asked me. “Or a fan, maybe?”
I scrunched up my face, thinking. “There might be a space heater down in the basement,” I said. “But by the time I find it…”
Drew gave Xander a hard look. “We’ll have to carry you again,” he said. “Garth and I can bring you into Hannah’s room, and you can hide in there while you dry off and…change.”
When my friends had carried Xander the first time, he’d been out cold, so he’d complied by default. But now, things were different.
Xander glared at my BFF. “Unacceptable,” he said. I’d never heard him sound so aggressive before, like his word was law. “I will not be towed around like an invalid.”
“Would you rather be discovered?” asked Drew, not backing down.
I almost told them to stop the dick-measuring contest. Except, with Xander in his merman form—and currently minus that particular part of his anatomy—I feared a comment like that might have only made the situation worse.
“We’re wasting time,” I said instead. Then, I focused on Xander. “Look, I get it. I do. But which would you rather keep: your pride or your secret?”
Xander aimed his unhappy stare at me. But behind the scowl, I could see he knew I had a point.
“We need to get you out of sight,” I said. “Now.”
* * *
Over the years, the big rambling structure of the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast had undergone several additions and renovations—admittedly, not all up to the latest HGTV standards.
For instance, to install the small half bath off the lobby, my parents had sacrificed the second entrance to the dining room.
As a result, guests had to go through the kitchen to get to breakfast. Not ideal, but it had never been a real problem. Until now.
The only way to get Xander to my bedroom was also through the kitchen, and the door to the lobby didn’t lock. Plus, it swung both ways.
So.
I left Drew and Garth on the deck to deal with Xander while I ran inside to find a way to keep Jack Lee temporarily out of the kitchen.
At first, I thought maybe I could prop one of the kitchen stools against the door. But a good push from Jack would knock it right over.
No, I needed something to wedge under the door. Something that would keep it from moving in either direction.
I scanned the counter, but I came up empty.
I started flinging drawers open, scanning their contents. Spatula? Vegetable peeler? Jersey Shore souvenir spoon rest?
No.
Then, I spotted a garlic press. It was the right size, and the shape kind of resembled a doorstop…
Time was ticking. Since I didn’t have a better idea, I decided to just go with it.
Kneeling, I slid my fingers under the swinging door to hold it steady. Then, I shoved the garlic press underneath. I put all my strength into it, jamming it so far beneath the door that it started to dent the bottom edge.
Okay. Moment of truth.
I stood.
Gingerly, I pushed at the door.
It didn’t move.
I pushed it again, putting more force behind my action.
It still didn’t move.
Taking the win, I headed back out to the deck.
And walked into a shit show.
Lifting an unconscious Xander in his human body had been doable—at least for Drew and Garth. But in his merman body, Xander was bigger, and his tail was proving slippery. As my friends tried to carry the merman into the kitchen, Drew was struggling to keep his grip on Xander’s lower half.
Meanwhile, the normally amiable Xander wasn’t being 100 percent cooperative. As Drew and Garth towed him through the back doorway and into the kitchen, Drew’s hold slipped, and Xander smacked him in the face with his tail fin.
“What the fuck?” demanded Drew.
“It was an accident,” said Xander—although, honestly, from my viewpoint as I followed them inside, I wasn’t totally convinced.
“That’s it,” said Drew, dropping Xander’s tail to the kitchen floor. “I give up.”
“You can’t give up,” I told him, closing the back door behind us. As Garth lowered Xander’s upper body to the floor, I searched my brain for another idea. “Maybe if we get a sheet? Or a blanket?”
“You want me to hide under a sheet?” asked Xander. “In the middle of the kitchen? Wouldn’t that look a little suspicious?”
“And a little crime-scene-y?” added Drew.
“No, she’s right, babe,” said Garth to his husband. “If we get a sheet or something, we can use it like a stretcher.”
“Be right back,” I said before Drew or Xander could argue.
With a quick glance at the MacGyvered swinging door, I ran for the door to the private hallway, yanked it open, and hustled toward my room. Inside, I grabbed my spare blanket and retraced my steps. Just as I returned to the kitchen—
“Hello?” called Jack Lee’s voice from the lobby.
We all froze and exchanged a panicked look.
There was a thump on the swinging door, but the garlic press held it in place.
Then—as if a director had yelled Action!—everyone sprang to it. Drew and Garth helped me spread the blanket out on the floor, and Xander slid and rolled and dragged himself, maneuvering his way on top of it.
“Hello?” Jack called again.
There was another thump. This time, the garlic press slid a little.
“Uh, hello?” I called back, wondering if he could even hear my voice over the deafening pounding of my heart.
“I think the door is stuck,” came Jack’s response.
Garth mouthed, “One…two…three…”
Xander grimaced, and Garth and Drew lifted. And…
Success!
“Just a minute,” I all but shouted through the door. “I think the problem is on this side.”
With Xander suspended on the blanket between them, Drew and Garth began to shuffle in the direction of my bedroom.
“Maybe if I push, and you pull?” I heard Jack say.
“No,” I said, “I don’t think—”
There was another thump as Jack must have thrown his full weight at the door.
Just as the garlic press shot across the room and the door swung open, a brilliant flash of light engulfed the Sunny Side’s kitchen, blinding us all.
When the brightness receded, Jack Lee stumbled into the kitchen.
And Xander stood. On his legs. Legs! He was obviously naked but wrapped in the blanket, a portion of which was draped around his head like a hood, mostly hiding his red hair.
With a glance back at Drew and Garth, Xander walked over to me. Pressing a quick kiss to my temple, he said, “I’ll just go upstairs and get dressed.” And with that, he walked out the swinging door.
For a moment, nobody said anything. No one moved.
While Drew and Garth tried not to laugh, I feigned embarrassment for Jack Lee’s sake.
But really, I was relieved. If our guest got the impression that I was somehow trying to conceal my handyman-slash-lover’s walk of shame, that was more than fine with me.
It was way better than him thinking I was trying to conceal his merman tail.