Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 2

  He moved restlessly around the room, tempted to cross the hall and mess with her some more. Why did he feel the need to harass her? He’d managed to stay out of her path for the first few days, and everyone else at the inn as well. He’d taken the plate of food she left in the dining room for him every morning, timing his arrival to avoid interacting with anyone. It had worked until she decided to hassle him about his bill.

  Did she honestly think he wouldn’t pay? She’d come to his door, insisting that he sign some forms. He’d been there for so many days and she didn’t have any proof of his ability to pay. He hadn’t actually spoken to her before that point. Grace, his sister, had handled everything; he’d just moved his things into the room while the women talked. He’d seen enough of Becky to know she was just like all the women he’d spent the last eight years trying to avoid; surface, self-absorbed, determined to suck everything she could from one man before moving on to the next.

  He had no problem giving her a wide berth, until she’d had the nerve to come up to his room. Didn’t she know he wanted to be left alone? He’d decided to cash in on his size and make quick business of intimidating her.

  It didn’t work.

  He’d come to the door in a T-shirt, sweats, and a scowl. He’d braced his hands high on the door and the frame and leaned toward her in a way that made most men squirm. She’d taken a step back initially, wide-eyed and a little disconcerted, then she’d thrown her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and asked him for his name.

  His name! No one called him anything but Tank, and he wasn’t about to tell this nobody his real name. Did he have a credit card? Not likely. She kept pressing him until his blood boiled. People rarely ever dared to push him, but this little ... innkeeper just wouldn’t quit.

  Her big brown eyes didn’t work on him, and he’d never cared for blondes. She could take her little act elsewhere; he wasn’t interested. Maybe that’s why he felt he had to drive her away every chance he had. Her kind was dangerous.

  ***

  Becky actually flinched when she heard the door open across the hall. She took a deep breath and braced herself. Whatever hostility had developed between them over the last few days had to stop. She had to find a way to be civil to him for Maddy’s sake. Determined not to rise to his bait again, she flipped out the sheets. Let him come in and give her grief. At least she had pants on.

  Tank did his ‘arms on the frame, lean in the door’ thing. Becky glanced up and refused to be intimidated or impressed by his size. She offered a carefully bland expression. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you expecting anyone else this week?”

  She swallowed her surprise; a normal question? She hardly knew how to respond.

  “You’re it until next weekend.” Gonna be a long week, she added silently. She blew the hair out of her eyes and smoothed the sheets before adding the comforter. Please go away.

  “Can I move into this room?”

  She turned to him with her hands on her hips. “Why?”

  He shrugged, probably getting a workout, just moving those traps up and down. She focused back on his face; his disagreeable, perpetually frowning face. His crew cut only made him appear more formidable. She couldn’t even tell the color of his hair with how short he kept it. Darkish, anyway; just like his personality. She raised a brow, determined not to snap.

  “I like the water.”

  Three non-combative sentences in a row. The man was capable of conversation! She eyed him speculatively. No expression touched his fearsome face. Actually, his face wasn’t so fearsome at the moment - just moderately scary. If she was being very generous, she’d admit that when the dark brows weren’t crowding over them, the deep-set eyes just might be ... interesting.

  Back to the question. He wanted to change rooms. Well, as long as he stayed out of the Captain’s Quarters, the only room booked for the following weekend, she couldn’t care less where he slept. She had to clean his other room, anyhow.

  “Fine. Since you’re asking so nicely,” she smiled at him without warmth, and stuffed a pillow into the pillow case. She grinned genuinely as she considered the peach-colored bedding. “I’m not changing these sheets again. They manly enough for you?”

  Okay, stupid remark. No need to stir things up.

  She glanced at him but he said nothing. Did she imagine the color touching his cheeks? Probably. The man had no soul.

  “Okay, well, I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. You can move in any time.”

  “Thanks.” He turned and left.

  Becky stared at the door. What was that about? He was almost human. Laying the bedspread out, she suddenly felt strange about having her hands all over his sleeping space. She fluffed the pillows and gave the room a quick once-over. Cracking the windows open to let in the fresh air, she left him to his new room.

  ***

  Tank walked along the beach, glad to be out of the house and away from the innkeeper. Apparently, she wasn’t even that. It was just his luck the real owners were gone while he was staying there. He shrugged out of his jacket. At least he’d have a better room for the rest of the week. The view from the Anchor Room, or whatever she called it, was much better than his current room. It was smaller, but that didn’t matter. As long as he could stretch his limbs on the beach during the day and hear the waves at night, he didn’t care about his sleeping space.

  In a few days, he could move into his own place, and he was looking forward to calling someplace home. He’d been running since early spring, and he was tired. He’d sold his condo and traveled, seeking distraction; anything to keep from confronting the truth that he’d probably never play football again.

  The truth of it ripped him up inside. Football had been his life for as long as he could remember. He’d wanted to be a running back or a wide receiver, but he just kept growing. No one expected his speed to keep up with his height and weight, but it did, all through high school and into his pick of colleges. His formidable size made him a linebacker to be reckoned with, right into the draft his senior year.

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked. Stupid concussion. He’d felt fine after that last hit, he just needed a few minutes to catch his breath. Turned out it was hours before he came back around, and by then the game was over and his future decided. You could only have so many concussions before they put you on the bench, permanently.

  His appointment two weeks earlier - his last ray of hope - had confirmed it. Another concussion would put him in a really bad place, might even kill him. While any concussion was potentially life-threatening, Tank had maxed out on his luck. No way his team would take him back now. No one would take a chance on him. He was a walking time bomb.

  His gaze swept the water - funny how that could always soothe him - and he wondered how he’d ever come to terms with a life without football. What would he do? Money wouldn’t be an issue for a while, that much was good. He’d been conservative and invested well; didn’t party as much as some of the other boys.

  He picked up a piece of driftwood and heaved it into the water. All the money in the world didn’t make a difference. He wanted to play football.

  three

  Becky put Tank’s breakfast on the warmer and finished cleaning up the kitchen. It felt much more like fall, but the weather was still great for a jog. Burt would be happy; she’d missed taking him out the day before.

  “Alright, Burt, time for a run,” she called as she walked onto the porch. The dog lay under the table pining for his owner, but he did open his eyes when she said ‘run.’ He stood, stretched, and lumbered over to her.

  Becky scratched his ears. “You’ve got less than a week, buddy, and she’ll be back. You’ll make it.” She stepped down to the beach, and after stretching briefly, started her jog. Burt kept up, distracting himself with the birds and the beach treasures. He trotted on ahead.

  Becky concentrated on breathing evenly and avoiding driftwood and rocks. These runs were a mixed blessing. Now that everything in her life
was uncertain, it gave her much-needed, and much-feared time to think. What was she going to do?

  Planning for her future, uncertain as it was, was better than thinking about the past. She’d really liked her job at the academy, and had hoped to be offered a contract for another year. The board had debated cutting the art program all summer long, but the headmaster had gone to bat for her. She’d been thrilled until she found out why.

  He’d wanted to sleep with her, of course. Said she’d sent all those signals and was sure they had an understanding. He’d even come to her home to tell her the good news about her three-year contract. When she declined the offer, the art program suddenly lost its funding.

  Becky tossed her head. She was tired of the assumptions that men made about her. She was tired of men, period.

  She focused again on her surroundings. Burt was behaving and trotting happily just a couple yards in front of her. She picked a spot ahead on the beach for her turn-around point and amped up the speed a bit.

  While she was glad for a place to come and sort things out, spending time with Maddy had been challenging in its own way. Thankfully, planning and helping to run the inn while Maddy got ready for the wedding had filled almost every waking moment. Becky had had little time to think about how very happy Maddy was, and how very empty her own life had become in comparison.

  For the last week, however, she’d had plenty of time. After seeing Maddy and John off, she spent the day with her parents before they returned home, then prepared for the couples due to arrive the Monday after the wedding. Tank had been a surprise, but she figured Maddy would be happy for the business, and since he was pretty low maintenance at first, it had been no big deal.

  Once she got into the routine of making breakfasts and doing the minimal clean-up after the guests, she was left with all kinds of time to contemplate where she’d been and where her life was going. The one thing she really didn’t want to contemplate was how she spent the night of Maddy’s wedding, but that seemed to haunt her the most.

  It was almost a relief when she’d picked a fight with Tank. At least she had someone to be mad at besides herself, and there was a whole lot to be mad at with Tank - physically and emotionally.

  All she’d done was ask for a credit card. Any reasonable person would have given her one at check-in. When she’d asked for his name, you’d have thought she asked him to cut off his right arm. What kind of name was ‘Tank,’ anyway?

  Since it was Grace’s brother, she’d initially given him space and figured he’d come around to take care of business. She liked Grace, loved her coffee shop, and figured her brother would be an interesting distraction, at least.

  Interesting was hardly the word.

  Men like Tank made her want to be done with men. She warmed to the thought. Maybe if she swore off men, they’d stop harassing her, both the ones haunting her dreams, and the all-too-real ones roaming the halls of her sister’s house.

  ***

  “I’m done with men forever.” Becky sipped her Americano as she relaxed in the booth of her friend’s coffee shop. The more she said it, the more right it felt. Who needed men? They caused nothing but trouble and regret. She’d had enough of both.

  Grace Kimball looked at her apologetically. “Is my brother driving you crazy?”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s not just him. He’s just a great big reminder of how terrible they all are.” Becky sipped her drink again. “Okay if I vent about him?”

  Grace laughed, her green eyes dancing. “Of course. I told you to keep me posted. There’s really not much you can say that would shock me.” She sipped her tea. “I’m just sorry he’s been so difficult for you. I should have had him stay at Maplewood.”

  “Yeah, well, he needed his privacy, you said.”

  “I doubt it would have made much difference. It just seemed a little more off the beaten path out there. Besides, I thought Maddy could use the business.”

  “She’ll be happy he was here. I’ll be happy when he’s gone.”

  Grace laughed again. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No, we’re actually doing okay for the moment. He switched rooms yesterday, so at least I got in to clean the other one.”

  “Charge him extra for the trouble. He can afford it.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  “So, Maddy’s back on Saturday?”

  “Yep. Late. I’ve got a couple coming in on Friday, but that’s it. Should be a quiet week if your brother behaves. He leaves on Saturday, right?”

  “Yeah, his cottage should be all set by then - furnished and ready to go. It’s the place my family always rented for vacations when we were kids.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You didn’t grow up here, either. I always feel like I’m the only one from out of town.”

  “Nope. There are a few of us. I just kind of came back on a whim, well, and on a really good real estate lead.” Grace smiled. “I can’t believe they’re still renting the house out. I hope that makes it feel more like home for him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be happy to have his own space,” Becky replied. “Now that he’s found his way out of his room, he does a lot of prowling. It would be okay if he weren’t so scary big, and quiet. How does he do that?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s a well-honed skill. When we were little, well, when I was little, he used to sneak up on me and scare me all the time. It never got old for him.” Grace furrowed her brow at the memory.

  “At least we don’t have that kind of relationship,” Becky conceded, relieved. “He mostly tries to avoid me, but if I ever have him cornered, he’s like a caged animal, ready to attack.”

  “Well, not all men are like Tank. You don’t need to write them all off.”

  “Yeah, I think I do,” Becky replied. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You’re looking a little dreamy-eyed. That’s not like you.”

  Grace grinned. Grace, her serious businesswoman friend, grinned.

  “Is it that guy from Saturday? The high school friend?”

  Grace continued to smile. “Yep.”

  “Really? Wow. Well, he is gorgeous.” Becky considered her friend. “But you didn’t seem so happy with him when I last saw you.”

  “I wasn’t. I was overwhelmed - Tank had just thrown me a curve ball about the shop, and I just didn’t think I could handle a new relationship.” Grace shrugged. “Anyway, we talked yesterday. Alex came back to the shop and was very ... compelling,” she smiled. “We’re going to try the long-distance thing. It may not work, but,” she sighed happily.

  Becky rolled her eyes. “You were the one person I thought I could count on to be rational.” She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling a little. “I’m happy for you. When will you see him again?”

  “He’s coming back this weekend. He may be in touch about staying at Maddy’s.”

  “Well, if you’re sure you want him around Tank.” Becky picked up her empty mug and slid out of the booth. “Just have him give me a call.”

  “Great - thanks.” Grace followed, gathering her dark brown hair back into a pony tail. “Take care of him, but, you know, not too much.” She grinned sheepishly and tied her apron.

  “Done with men forever,” Becky reminded her with a determined smile, and made her way out of the coffee shop.

  ***

  Becky neared the house with trepidation. She didn’t like feeling this way about coming back to her own home. Well, it was more her home than his. Tank’s Jeep was still parked in the drive. Why didn’t he go out to eat or something? Did he really think the whole town would fall apart over an ex-football player? Big deal.

  She walked around to the oceanside porch and paused when she saw Tank and Burt out on the beach. They were a perfect pair; neither one looked abnormally huge when they were together. Tank was tossing pieces of driftwood and Burt was having a great time chasing them.

  Tank was in short sleeves and had worked up a bit of a sweat heaving the large pieces of wood around. His arms were h
uge. Becky was not about to take in the spectacle for another minute. She turned to sneak back around the front of the house before either one of them saw her.

  Too late.

  Burt loped around the side of the house. Becky tried to urge him back, to no avail. He ran right up to her, tail wagging, and she had no choice but to greet him. Tank followed a moment later. Rounding the corner, he simply stopped and stared with his dirty hands on his hips. Then he turned and walked back to the beach.

  Becky grabbed Burt’s collar and walked him into the house. “We need to find you better friends.”

  four

  Since Tank had yet to show up for breakfast during the last week and a half, Becky decided to take it easy on Tuesday. She’d had coffee and scones or muffins on by seven a.m. every other morning, and a hot breakfast available between nine and eleven. Since there was no way he’d be getting out of bed, she wasn’t going to, either. She hadn’t slept well, and there was nothing compelling her to get up, except preparing food that was going to get cold, anyway. She sure wasn’t eating it. Resetting her alarm, she snuggled back under the blankets.

  Fifteen minutes later, a gentle bell sounded. John had rigged it to ring in several places throughout the inn, and one of them, of course, was Becky’s bedroom behind the kitchen.

  Did she have a new guest? She squinted at the clock - just past eight in the morning, mid-week, late October; not likely. The only alternative was Tank, and she could hardly imagine that he’d suddenly become an early riser. Curious, she threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, quickly combed through her hair and brushed her teeth. Make-up would have to wait.

  She opened the door between her room and the kitchen. Her one and only guest paced like a wild animal, turning when he heard her enter.

  “Breakfast ready?”

  Her dislike of him multiplied exponentially. What kind of person didn’t even say ‘hello’? Becky walked to the fridge, yanked open the door, and pulled out an orange. She tossed it to him while she rummaged for other ingredients. Tank caught it, of course; stupid athlete reflexes.