Once We Met Read online

  And then there’s me.

  Dan set the sledgehammer down and stripped his sweat-soaked shirt from his back.

  He didn’t really know a damn thing about renovating a house, let alone one this old, with this many rooms. When he’d shown his dad around the property, his expression indicated he thought Dan had bitten off more than he could chew.

  “You can always go back to being a cop if it doesn’t work out,” was the polite way Dad had put it.

  As though that was supposed to be reassuring.

  Dan reached for the bottle of water in the cooler and popped the top open. Taking a swig, he let his eyes wander the space. He’d taken the past few days to demo this room, carefully. He didn’t want to do more than one major room at a time. The more he did, the bigger chance he’d get overwhelmed and quit.

  He was good at quitting. Succeeding, though . . .

  He sighed. He had to succeed with this. The lodge was like an institution to Brandywood summers to so many people. The Serendipity had served as a second home to him for several summers when he was a teenager.

  Mr. Harrison had given Dan his first job, right in this room, which served as the main sitting room for the guests. It had large French doors with picture windows on either side that led out to the verandah in the back. The view was unmatched in the summer evenings, with the sun setting over the lake, just steps beyond the wide, flat lawn.

  The problem with buying a massive 120-year-old farmhouse that had been converted into an inn, though, was that it came with its share of problems. Like everything else in the lodge, the ten bedrooms required some changes, but they were mostly in good shape.

  The sitting room and some of the common areas on the first floor required skills well beyond his limited ones. But Dan was determined to do as much as he could on his own. For once, he wanted to build something he could be proud of. And if it took him longer than it would take others, so be it.

  He had some help. Dan had hired a kid just out of college to have another set of hands. Peyton had spent most of his time outdoors, digging into the massive upkeep the grounds and gardens required, but he’d barely made a dent. Brenda Harrison had let this place get too overgrown between the time Dan had put his offer in and closing.

  Tossing the closed bottle back into the cooler, he rubbed his shoulder. The muscles in his shoulders and arms ached down to the bones. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this sore, even when he’d gone to the police academy. Or played basketball in high school—the only thing he’d been naturally good at.

  But he was a hard worker. And this was his chance to turn his luck around and bring the Serendipity into the twenty-first century. And it was his new home. Unless he wanted to move back in with his parents, he’d need to live here until he got it operating as a bed-and-breakfast. It’d make it easier to run the place anyway.

  Even if this sitting room was going to give him a challenge. He’d torn the drywall down to reveal a massive mold problem, which had forced him to shut down the renovation to get that issue addressed first. Three plumbers, a septic tank replacement, and a mold mitigation team later, and he’d already spent thousands of dollars more than expected.

  Who knew the entire thing would drain more than half his budget for this whole renovation?

  How the hell was he going to do so much with so little left?

  “Officer Klein?” Peyton MacLuckie knocked on the door frame. Dan jerked his gaze toward him, still unaccustomed to the kid milling about. He paid him well enough, but Peyton worked slower than he’d expected. He’d taken two days to repaint the front door before Dan had moved him to work on weeding the front garden bed.

  Dan smirked at him. “I told you before, you don’t have to call me that. Just Dan. I’m not a cop anymore.”

  Peyton nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Uh, there’s someone here. On the front porch.”

  Dan furrowed his brow. Delivery, maybe? He reached for his shirt, then paused. Never mind. Nothing more gross than putting on a damp shirt. He made his way out of the room toward the long, open foyer that led to the front. Since he’d stopped being a cop a few months ago, he’d let himself grow a wild, tawny beard—a single act of rebellion now that he could do whatever he wanted with his facial hair—and he scratched at his jaw as he approached the open screen door, not bothering to remove the eye protection goggles from his face.

  A petite auburn-haired woman who appeared to be dressed for a business meeting in a gray skirt that hugged her hips and a pristine cream-toned blouse stood on the wide front porch. Her high heels clicked against the wooden floorboards as she paced. Her back was turned to him, and she didn’t see him approach.

  Dan’s gaze flicked farther down the driveway, where Ben Pearson’s pickup truck idled. A black-haired young woman stood beside him, chatting. What did Ben have to do with all this? Ben was helping unload what looked like several months’ worth of luggage from the bed of his truck.

  The slats in front of the doorway creaked as Dan stepped onto the porch. “How can I help you?”

  The woman whirled around, then froze. Her blue-gray eyes blinked rapidly at him.

  Man, she’s pretty.

  And . . . familiar.

  He studied her, a feeling of recognition flickering at the back of his mind, of warm summer nights, fireflies over the waters of the lake, and stolen kisses on the dock.

  But she couldn’t be. The girl he’d known had been wild and beautiful, willing to jump out of her window and shimmy her way down the tall oak beside a third-floor window of the lodge. This woman looked like she didn’t know the meaning of the word fun.

  The look on her face wasn’t one of recognition but molten fury. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. “You’re the new owner of the Serendipity?”

  Dan nodded, feeling the urge to step back from her, the hair on his arms standing on end. “Yup, and you are?”

  She straightened to her full height, which must have been a full foot short of him. “Avery Moretti.”

  Holy shit. He kept an even expression, but his heart rate ticked up a notch.

  It was her.

  The muscles in his shoulders felt taut, his spine stiff.

  Nothing in her eyes indicated she recognized him. Should he remind her they’d met before? It’d been . . . twelve years.

  Did she remember that week from when they were eighteen?

  Dan hadn’t been able to forget it.

  But then again, this wasn’t the way he’d wanted to come face-to-face with Avery Moretti again. Do I even want to face her at all?

  She didn’t exactly look thrilled to be here—or looking for a cheerful reunion.

  He nodded at her curtly, then closed the door. “We’re closed right now.”

  He ripped the goggles from his eyes and walked away. The door flew open again, bouncing off the drywall behind it with a thud. A spray of drywall from a new dent courtesy of the door knob crumbled onto the floor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” The clack of heels followed as she rushed toward him. “Wait one second, please.” She tripped over an extension cord and stumbled forward.

  Dan’s hand shot out, catching her before she could fall. He steadied her, and their eyes met. His throat went tight, and he swallowed hard as her eyes widened.

  “Oh my God, it’s . . . you.”

  A flush crept into her cheeks as he released her. He stepped back, bumping into the wall behind him, then ran a hand through his hair, which was probably sticking up in thousands of directions like Wolverine. He didn’t want to look as nervous as he felt right now, but it took him longer than normal to get his wits together.

  Then he offered a wry grin. “You mean you didn’t come here to see me? I’d say I’m hurt, but I guess that’s twelve years too late and a dollar short.”

  “Dan? Um, is that really you?” Steadying herself on the wall, she said, “I barely recognized you with that survivalist beard you have going on.”

  “Well, right back at you. Except in
your case, I think it was more the death glare. Not saying you have a beard.” He caught the trace of a smile curling in her lips at his awkwardness before she coaxed it into a frown.

  He grimaced, then gave her a one-eyed squint. “Though maybe I should have recognized that expression. Pretty sure that’s the last look you ever gave me before you stomped on my teenage heart and left. But if that’s what you’re here about, I would really rather not reminisce.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t even know that you’d be here, but thanks for the welcome. As pleasant as this catch-up has been, I’m actually here because I made a reservation nine months ago.”

  Dan shook his head. Right. As though he wouldn’t have noticed her name in the reservation book. “No, you didn’t. And even if you did once upon a time, you can’t stay here now.”

  The door opened once again, and Peyton popped his dark, shaggy head in. “Everything okay?”

  “Yup.”

  “No!” Dan and Avery answered in unison. Peyton exchanged a glance at them both. “This lady’s leaving, Peyton. Maybe you can walk her out?”

  “I’m not leaving!” Avery stamped her foot. “I have a reservation.”

  There was that temper he remembered.

  “Oh.” Peyton’s smile was bright and conciliatory, as though he’d solved the problem. “Mr. Klein’s got plenty of room. There’s even a sign on the window.” Peyton pointed at a rough sign Dan had scribbled on the top flap of a pizza box with the words “MOSTLY VACANT” when Peyton had asked why he didn’t have one of those vacancy signs up.

  The sign was supposed to poke fun at the fact that the lodge was vacant of its furniture. Guess the joke was lost on the kid.

  Avery marched to the window and snatched up the sign. Her nose wrinkled as though she could still smell the cheese grease from it, and then she turned it toward Dan, cocking her chin. “You’re right, it does say that. Thank you so much for pointing that out.”

  “Yes, thank you so much, Peyton.” Dan scowled at him. “I think we’re good. Maybe you can go back to pulling weeds?”

  Peyton nodded and headed out again, the screen door banging as he left.

  A deep, irritated silence filled the air between them as Avery and Dan squared off. “I have a reservation.” Avery’s voice was flat.

  “There aren’t any. At least not according to Mr. Harrison’s reservation book. And we’re closed, so I can’t accommodate your request, unfortunately.” Dan glanced back down the hall, wishing he could levitate his shirt back over to him.

  “Listen, Dan. I’m here because I had reserved the Serendipity—the whole lodge—for next week. My reservation was for this week so I could get a jumpstart on finalizing plans. My wedding is supposed to be here in two weeks.”

  Dan stared at her, his heart slowing again, and the giant diamond glistening from her left hand somehow seemed more prominent. She’s engaged. Not here to talk to you. Obviously. His brain failed to process the rest of what she’d said with as much clarity. Then he blinked hard and focused. What the hell?

  There had been no bookings on the schedule for August. At least not when Brenda Harrison had sold him the place. He had promised to honor existing reservations, but Brenda had told him she’d called all the numbers in the logbook and canceled the reservations when her father died, which was why the Serendipity had been left unattended all year. If Avery hadn’t gotten one of those calls, then it was even more evidence that her so-called reservation had never existed.

  A mosquito pricked his forehead, and he slapped it away, then rubbed the itch it left behind. “Your wedding is supposed to be here?” He sounded like an idiot.

  “Yes, here. In two weeks.” She peeked around him, and a horrified expression crossed her face. “Are you doing construction?” She edged past him, then marched into the place like she owned it.

  Dan followed Avery into the lodge, barely able to keep up. She headed straight back, toward the sitting room where he’d been working, her hands covering her mouth. The room was stripped down to the studs, even on the ceiling. All that faintly resembled the former grandeur of the lodge’s most iconic room were the large picture windows, which looked out toward the serene lake.

  “Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” Avery’s eyes took on a glassy look, her lips still parted in shock.

  Dan reached for his shirt and pulled it on, the thin, damp white fabric bearing a beer logo somehow feeling like protection. He swallowed hard. How could he have missed a reservation of this magnitude? He’d gone through the logbook, and there had been nothing—he was sure of it.

  Swinging away from her, he took the few steps from the sitting room to the small cupboard of a room Ken had used as an office. Dust motes filtered through the air as the light switched on, revealing the space exactly as Ken had left it. The one place where Brenda hadn’t taken everything out to put in long-term storage. The logbook lay open on a pine desk Ken must have built to fit the space.

  Dan flipped to August as the sound of Avery’s steps shuffled in behind him.

  Nothing.

  Well, that’s a relief.

  Still, he flipped the book forward, toward the end of the book. Had he missed something? Ken’s insistence on using pen and paper instead of changing to a computer system had made finding existing reservations a challenge. Whatever his system had been, it must have made sense to him, but it had done nothing to move the lodge into modern technology.

  Sure enough, at the end of the book in neatly printed script, he found “Roberts Wedding” written in pencil, with some August dates noted beside them. Ken had written it someplace easily missed, but that didn’t make Dan less culpable. He had missed it, after all. The back of his neck broke out into an aching sweat.

  Do I really have to admit I’ve found something?

  “Is this it?” Dan stepped to the side to let her look.

  Avery stared at the ledger. She lifted tearful eyes toward him, then glanced away. “Yeah, that’s my fiancé’s last name.”

  “I didn’t know Ken put this here.” Dan swallowed hard and shifted his weight onto his back foot. “But I don’t have any rooms available, because all the furniture is in storage while I remodel.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Avery covered her mouth again, looking sick. “I’ve been sending checks to Mr. Harrison. Didn’t you get them? Someone should have seen them.”

  Uh oh. Dan grimaced. “Did you send them directly to Ken?”

  She nodded.

  “Anything that was addressed to him would have gone to his daughter. I’m still sorting out his mail and send it down to her about once a month. But I don’t think she’s been the best at opening it up. He gets a ton of junk.” Dan peered at her and hesitated. He didn’t want to ask the obvious, but how could this have gotten so mixed up? “Didn’t you notice your checks weren’t cashed?”

  She reddened. “I’m not used to writing checks or balancing a checkbook. Ken was the only vendor who requested paper checks.”

  Dan held back a retort. She’d also been a spoiled rich girl when they’d first met. Probably still is one. Otherwise, how could she not notice sizable sums of money not getting pulled?

  “Okay, but why didn’t you call to check on things?”

  “I didn’t think I needed to. I rented the whole place, and Mr. Harrison has always kept our reservation. What was I supposed to ask? ‘Hey, Mr. Harrison, you’re still planning on renting the whole lodge to me? You’re not dead, right?’”

  He nearly guffawed. Well, it wouldn’t have hurt.

  She stepped falteringly toward the rickety chair in the room and sat. “I have one hundred sixteen people arriving in Brandywood next week. Some who are expecting to stay here, including me and my family. I told those people I had the whole place, that I took care of their accommodations. Where am I supposed to hold my wedding? I have a tent and caterer and flowers and everything.” She sounded close to hyperventilating and fanned her reddening face. “They’re all coming here. Ev
erything . . .”

  Their personal history aside, Dan couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt. She looked crushed. And those tear-filled eyes had manipulated him long ago.

  He was also the least gifted person possible to handle this. His gaze moved toward the door, and he briefly considered making a run for it, as he did every time women teared up around him. But one he had some sort of prior relationship with? Nothing could make him more awkward.

  A knot of tension rose in his chest. “Um. I’m not set up right now to handle guests.” How many ways did he have to say it?

  Avery’s eyes snapped up toward him. “Please, Dan? Isn’t there something you can do? I have everything ordered and ready to go—a-and the Serendipity means so much to me. I’ve been dreaming of getting married here since I was five years old.”

  Her chest heaved, then fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “It has to be here. Is this the only room where you’re doing construction?”

  Dan avoided squirming. “Yeah, but there’s no furniture. I’d have to move everything back in. I’m living here, and I can tell you—it’s rough. The whole place needs repairs.” Which is why I’m remodeling. He’d thought he could take a dose of the great outdoors until he’d moved into the Serendipity. But after he’d discovered a nest of snakes in the bedroom he’d picked to sleep in, it turned out he didn’t enjoy being as close to nature as he thought.

  Was there any way he could compromise?

  “You could use the grounds for a ceremony and reception, but I’m supposed to have a crew coming to tear down the dock and rebuild it next week. The landscaping crew won’t be out before a month, though. Things have sort of gotten overgrown while the place was empty.”

  Because I wasn’t supposed to have any guests. And Brenda didn’t take care of the place.

  Avery dashed the tears from her eyes with a swipe of her fingertips. “I can pull weeds and help you move furniture, if that’s what it takes.” A glimmer of hope came to her face. “If you’re willing to let me hold the ceremony, it might give us a starting point. Maybe we can fix some of this. Please.”