The Bluebird Bet Read online

  She bumped along the ruts and parked in her normal spot. Braving a quick glance toward the roof, she was relieved to see that Dean was not currently hanging upside down with a paintbrush in his hand.

  His Jeep was missing, too.

  She sat there longer than she meant to, staring out the windshield while she thought about her father’s call. Talking to her mother would give her an excellent chance to complain long and loud but would only reinforce her mother’s anger. While venting would feel so, so good, it wouldn’t fix anything.

  That was the part that made her so sad. Nothing she did or said would transform her family back to the way she wanted it.

  “Get out of the car, Elaine. Obsessing won’t make you feel better,” she said to herself.

  As she walked up to the porch, she saw that Dean had finished painting the front of the inn completely. She leaned over the railing to gauge his progress. “Nearly done with this side.” All that was left was the lowest quarter, a height comfortable for someone standing on the ground.

  To confirm her suspicion that he was saving the last bit for her, she walked around to the back to see the same situation. Bright white paint covered the top three-quarters, leaving enough work for her to finish up.

  “That will drive me crazy until it’s finished.” Elaine went inside and put on her painting shorts, relieved to have something to focus on other than her emotions. Determined to finish before he had a chance to crow, she hurried into the kitchen to grab some water, a necessity on a day as hot as today.

  There, sitting on the crooked cabinet, was Dean’s laptop. The screen displayed a photo of a vibrant blue flower. It sort of looked like the wildflower she’d taken her first shot of that morning.

  “He must have stopped on the way down to take this.” She surveyed the crisp detail of the petals and the hazy greens of the leaves and grass that faded into a perfect backdrop, one that gave dimension without distracting the eye from the star of the show. “Gorgeous.”

  She checked over her shoulder as if he might spring out from behind the door and then decided maybe it wouldn’t hurt if she took a closer look.

  “Really, he shouldn’t leave it out if it’s top secret.” Curious to see what other shots he’d taken while she’d been exploring the world from behind her own camera, she tapped the touchpad to see if the photo was a part of a slideshow. What came up was a document outlining Dean’s plan.

  She scanned the list, wondering again if she should be seeing this. It was a lot more thorough than she’d expected. He’d left room for estimated costs and had the outline of a rough budget down the side. The marina was there, as well, with a five-year estimate of sales. At the bottom was a note about Phase Three.

  Right now her plan had only two parts: renovate and reopen. She paced back and forth in front of the laptop, one hand covering her mouth. Why hadn’t she realized just how far ahead of her he was? She had zero experience at playing catchup.

  The bold heading “Return on Investment” caught her eye again. His plan was impressive. And she hated it. She’d been counting on Dean being less thorough than she was.

  “Find what you were looking for?”

  Elaine gasped and fumbled the water bottle that had lured her into the kitchen in the first place. She watched it roll down the counter and come to a stop while she tried to calm her heart. “You scared me.”

  “That was sort of the point.” Dean stopped next to her and set two gallons of paint on the counter. “I hope I got the right color of blue.”

  No matter how desperately she wanted to say something lighthearted that would make him laugh and give her a shot at a quick getaway, Elaine’s mind was a blank. “Sorry. I saw the picture. I thought I’d see what else you took this morning. That’s all.”

  “You came for the photos, but stayed for the snooping.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Guess I can see that. At least you thought it was impressive. Loan officer at the First National Bank agreed.”

  He’d already met with someone at the bank? The sensation of falling even further behind made her knees weaken.

  Get it together, Elaine. All you have to do is pretend nothing happened. Get a move on and don’t look back.

  She picked up the water bottle. “If you think I’m going to finish the job you left half-done, you’re crazy. I’ve got to get some lists together for the contractor.” And she had to make an appointment at the bank and then spend every free minute focused on her plan. That would mean less time with Dean. Win-win.

  Ready to bluster her way out of danger, she moved toward the exit.

  He stepped in front of her. “No, we need to talk first.”

  She had two options here. She could apologize again or attack, blame him for leaving his stuff all over until he was glad to see the back of her. Before she could commit to either strategy, he moved close enough that she could see the golden flecks in his eyes, and all she could do was concentrate on taking a deep breath and letting it go slowly while she waited for him to move away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “HAVE A PRODUCTIVE trip to town?” Dean asked as he watched Elaine fidget. “I thought I saw your car when I stopped at King’s to get the paint. Where was that?” He tapped his chin. “Oh, yeah. I remember. Right around the corner from Purl’s Place, a shop Edna happens to frequent on Saturdays. She told me she needed the first installment of my most exciting stories no later than Friday afternoon.”

  He propped his hands on his hips. “Hear any valuable gossip?”

  The flush of color in her cheeks surprised him. He hadn’t expected anything to embarrass Dr. Elaine Watson, and certainly nothing she undertook to win a competition.

  “Andi’s engaged.” One shoulder jerked awkwardly in what he guessed was a shrug. “And I believe Edna’s in love with you.”

  “She loves what I can do for her anyway. And that works for me. No luck in winning her over?” Of course not. He wasn’t worried about losing his hand-picked judge. Coming up with stories to keep her satisfied without stirring up too much emotion had gotten easier each time they talked. She was the brains behind this operation, and if one thing had become clear the minute he sat across from Edna at the Country Kitchen, it was that she wanted to win nearly as much as Elaine did.

  “She did give me some helpful advice.” Elaine raised her eyebrows, and he was glad to see she hadn’t yet conceded. “Once I talk it through with Jackie, I’m pretty sure it could be the piece I need to push me over the top.”

  She peeked over his shoulder as if she was trying to find an escape route. He reached around her to tap the touchpad on his laptop. If she wanted to go, one shoulder bump would clear the path. He waited to see what she would do.

  “Not a big believer in personal space, Dean?” She inched sideways, closer to freedom, but she didn’t make a break for it.

  “Just curious about what sort of snooping you were doing.” He frowned. “Does it count as industrial espionage if it involves a bed-and-breakfast?” He pretended to consider the question seriously. “Hospitality espionage?”

  She shook her head, her lips twitching. When she didn’t splutter out a defense, he smiled.

  All was fair in love and war, after all.

  And this was war. Absolutely.

  Funny kind of war, genius.

  “I was admiring your work.”

  “Yeah, my plans are awesome now. That Edna is a menace in more ways than one, but she does not play when it comes to business plans and world domination. In her mind, we’re building the first link in a chain of fishing resorts.” Remembering the stack of research she showed up with at their first lunch and the way the loan officer at the bank had kissed her cheek made him shake his head all over again. “She plots in terms of the big picture.”

  “That goes right along with her advice to me.” Elaine finall
y met his stare. “I’ve been dreaming too small.”

  This close he could see the spark of inspiration in her bright eyes. Dean suddenly realized he was staring at her. Needing to shake the sensation that the rest of the world had disappeared, Dean motioned at the computer. “What did you think of the photo? Pretty good, huh?”

  She looked at the picture again, glancing over her shoulder. “It is. When did you take it?”

  “I didn’t. That’s your shot. Don’t you recognize it?” He put his hands on her shoulders and urged her to turn then took a deep breath. “Here. Look.” He clicked on the folder, opened the slideshow and advanced the shots. “Some of them are...”

  “Not good!” she said, laughing at a blurry shot of what he thought was a knothole in tree bark.

  “The problem with that one is the exposure.” He reached around her and felt her tense against him. “If we change it to black-and-white, adjust the exposure and color balance, then all you see is texture.” When the photo converted he eased back and told himself to get out of the kitchen.

  “And that’s exactly what I was going for,” she murmured as she flipped through the rest of the pictures. “Not bad for my first lesson, right?”

  He shifted away to lean against the counter. “You don’t sound surprised. I wasn’t, either. I’m guessing there are few things you don’t do well.”

  She closed the slideshow and straightened. “I have a snarl of yarn that says there’s at least one thing I don’t do well.” She grimaced. “My cover story for entering Purl’s Place was a knitting lesson. Either the instructions were less than effective or I’ve met my match. I would say I went down in flames, but the shop is still standing.”

  “Most people aren’t experts at everything they try,” he said. “That’s normal.”

  She frowned. Elaine might not expect everyone else to be perfect, but she had seriously high standards for herself. He was considering pointing that out when her phone rang.

  “Hi, Mom,” Elaine said. Her smile as she answered this call was real, not like the pained one he’d seen the last time her mother called. He wondered what had changed.

  “Are you all packed up?” Elaine reached to pick up her water bottle, and Dean considered bowing out. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had his chance to really torment her about snooping on his laptop.

  “You met a guy in your cooking class.” Elaine’s shoulders slumped, and the energy that made her smile bright and beautiful faded. “So you aren’t coming next week?”

  Now he wished he’d made a quick exit, but she was pacing in front of the doorway, her shoulders set in a tense line. Whatever was coming would not be good.

  “No, that’s fine. Just...” Elaine swallowed hard. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Then she jammed the button to end the call, set the phone and water bottle down carefully and covered her face with both hands.

  “Everything okay?” He winced at how loud his voice was, but her seething tension made him nervous.

  “Just another something I don’t do very well. Take care of my mother.” She resumed pacing, this time slowly like she was lost and trying to find the right direction. “If she were my patient, and I gave her the same advice—life-saving advice—over and over and she ignored me every single time and kept coming in with broken bones, I would ask her to find a new doctor. Maybe. I don’t know. But she’s my mother. She does the same thing again and again and then collapses with every broken heart. It’s ridiculous.”

  And disappointing. That was clear. He could see frustration and sadness tangled up in her tight lips and sad eyes.

  She’d also had a lot of experience dealing with the mix. She straightened her shoulders and pasted on a smile. “And I should have learned not to expect so much from her. I thought we were on a good track, planning this trip to Tall Pines. Then she did what she always does. Why wouldn’t I expect this?”

  Dean glanced awkwardly around the room, desperate for something to cheer her up. Why? He had no idea. He hated to see the bitter disappointment on her face when moments before she’d been so happy.

  “And why am I unloading all this on you?” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I apologize for snooping. I should know better. I do know better. I saw the photo and couldn’t resist. Then I saw the plans and I could tell I needed to catch up. They’re really good. Thorough.”

  “Thanks.” What a weak answer. It did nothing to make her smile genuine or even to keep the conversation moving. But it was the only answer he had.

  She held up one finger. “But I’m not afraid of a come-from-behind win. Remember our jog?”

  The contest she’d won when he didn’t know they were racing. He could say that. Pick up the trash talk, get things back to normal between them again. She was making it easy.

  But he might never have another chance to talk to her honestly about something that obviously bothered her.

  Dean had handled a lot of things on his own for too long. Thanks to this place and her, he was beginning to understand that alone wasn’t the best way to endure.

  “So she’s not coming to visit?”

  Elaine glanced at the doorway and then looked up to study the ceiling, another surface that could stand some fresh white paint. “She can’t be alone. She goes through one grand love that dies in flames and then suffers until the next come along. That means lots of phone calls where I give sound, helpful advice. Take a class. Find a job. Come and visit. I thought she might actually take it this time and make a change.”

  “That’s got to be disappointing.” He couldn’t imagine a lifetime of picking up the pieces, going through all the highs and lows of failed relationships from the front-row seat.

  His father’s slow meltdown had been nearly impossible for him to understand as a kid. He’d wanted to rage and fight when his mother died. His father had folded, shut down.

  But at least he hadn’t made a habit of it.

  And losing a wife to cancer had to be a sound reason for a meltdown. Now that he’d gained some maturity, he could see he’d had his own emotional storm, not a bit better than his father’s. Did Elaine understand she was still going through her storm?

  “Disappointing? I don’t know. It’s exhausting is what it is. I should pull back, let her figure it out by herself. For my own good, I should tell her to stop calling with her relationship news.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “But she’s the one who always shows up for me. Always.”

  Dean stepped closer and before he could figure out what he wanted to do, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “You can’t sit back and watch her hurt...because you’re you.”

  Instead of pushing him away, she rested her head against his shoulder and tangled her fists in his loose T-shirt, as if she was afraid he’d desert her before she was ready. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her head. Then they stood there in the ugly kitchen in a complete moment of connection.

  “When I asked my dad why he didn’t tell me about his heart trouble, he said that he didn’t want to watch me worry.” Dean paused, wondering if he should shut up. He wasn’t a doctor, didn’t spend all day trying to cure patients. There was a good chance he’d say exactly the wrong thing.

  “So I should...what? Keep doing what I’m doing?” She didn’t look up at him, just stepped closer, and he held her more tightly.

  “Well, I was thinking... I would rather he’d been honest with me. If that had turned into something more serious, fatal, and I never knew until it was too late, I might have thought he didn’t care.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut and willed the tears burning his nose to disappear. He had to take this vulnerability thing in stages.

  “But he cared so much he didn’t want to see you hurt.” Her tired sigh breezed over his nape, and he fought the urge to shiver. “I see where you’re going with this.”

  That
was a good thing because he’d almost lost track of the plan the minute she’d stepped closer.

  “I should be honest about how I feel. Blaming her for not making a change is unfair when she doesn’t even get that it’s hurting me.” She smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. “You’re pretty smart for a guy who hangs upside down off the roof for fun.”

  He laughed, relieved that whatever murky thought he’d managed to express had helped her find some comfort. She made him sound a lot smarter than he really was.

  That was a truly impressive skill to find in a beautiful woman. “You’re being awfully nice to someone who’s been snooping through your stuff.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You must lack the killer instinct. Are you okay with losing?” Her small smile was a challenge.

  One he couldn’t resist. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. She gave a small gasp, but instead of moving away, she returned his kiss, each slide of her lips over his a shock to his system. For that brief moment, nothing else mattered, not the Bluebird or winning or losing or her mother or his father or whatever came next. Her sweet lips and the way she fit against him changed everything.

  But only for a second.

  Then she eased back, met his gaze and said, “What a bad idea.”

  Nothing like crashing to earth to bring a man back to the real world.

  He pointed at the paint can. “I’ll be outside, working on shutters.” And then he turned and made a quick exit.

  Until he realized he’d need the paint can. When he forced himself back into the kitchen, she had braced one hand against the counter they’d worked to rehang, the other hand pressed against her lips.

  He didn’t ask if she was okay. He didn’t force her to explain herself, mainly because he knew exactly what she meant. And he didn’t make a case for more kisses. He didn’t have to. That one had been so good, it should speak for itself.

  He grabbed the paint can and did a countdown of how much longer they had until the bet was decided.