Inner Harbor. Lois Richer
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I’m positive Felicity explained to you, we don’t allow cats here. I can’t afford the damage claws could do to the quilts or the curtains, not to mention that woodwork.” She blanched a little at the mention of it, her eyes on the oak paneling. “It’s one of the rules I just can’t break.”
She wouldn’t budge. Russ knew that as surely as he knew his name. Annie Simmons was very protective of her business, very proud of what she’d accomplished. He’d noticed it earlier in the way she slid her hand over the gleaming stainless steel range in the kitchen, her quick mop up, which returned the shining glass table they’d eaten on to its pristine condition. She delighted in what she’d made here and she didn’t want it ruined. He didn’t blame her.
Of course, Marmalade wouldn’t hurt anything, but Annie didn’t know that.
“There are no animals allowed in this establishment. If that means you’re unable to stay with us, I’m very sorry, Mr. Mitchard. But I cannot and will not break my rule.” Her lips were pressed together in a firm line that brooked no argument.
“No problem.” He lifted the cat and walked to a corner by the desk. From behind a potted palm he pulled a black pet carrier. Within seconds, he’d stored the cat inside.
Russ wasn’t going to argue. He’d landed enough on her today. If he wanted to make any progress on the marriage issue, he needed to correct this mistake in judgment. He lifted the carrier and walked to the door, then stopped and faced her.
“I’ll find a place for Marmalade and then I’ll be back. She’s been declawed, so she wouldn’t hurt anything. But I don’t want to break your rules. I’ll see you later.”
He walked out her front door, headed for his truck. Today was not going the way he’d intended. But then, what did he expect? To walk in on Annie Simmons, announce that she needed to marry him so he could finally fulfill a dream and expect her to meekly agree? Put like that, it wouldn’t matter how many letters she’d read.
“Thanks a lot, Gramps,” he muttered, only half under his breath. “After today, she’ll probably never talk to me again. Let alone marry me. Then what will you do?” In the recesses of his mind Russ could almost hear the old coot chuckle with delight.
Annie bit her lip as she watched Russ Mitchard walk away with his cat, wishing she’d rephrased that. She’d sounded like a stuffy old spinster who couldn’t allow a cat to muss her home. But getting the bed-and-breakfast finished had taken such a long time, been so much work, eaten up every dime her mother had left her. Besides, the quilts had come from the Women’s League. She couldn’t imagine asking them to make her another because a cat had ruined one!
Then she remembered the reason Russ was here and felt even worse. How embarrassing to be proposed to for money, even by that sweet old man’s grandson. He’d put a nice face on it, pretended that wasn’t the only reason, but Annie knew he couldn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him.
She’d had to refuse his proposal, surely he understood that? If he came back, it would be better to keep things on a business plane and pretend his offer of marriage had never happened. Perhaps if she acted nonchalant, she could spare both their feelings.
A cough broke through her musings. Annie pasted a smile on her face, then turned to the man standing in front of her desk.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor,” she apologized quietly. “Now let’s get you settled in.” She dealt with the registration, took an imprint of his credit card, all the while trying desperately to force Russ Mitchard out of her mind.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” He looked confused.
Annie knew the feeling. Nothing was going the way it should have today. Two new customers, and she was mad?
“You didn’t interrupt a thing. If you’ll follow me?” She made herself calm down as she showed him to his room.
“I take it he’s another guest?”
“That remains to be seen.” Annie met his curious stare but did not elaborate. “Breakfast is served from six-thirty to nine. I hope that will suit you, Mr. Taylor?”
“Sure. Whatever. I’m here to relax.” He set his duffel bag on the bed.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in, then. Please make yourself at home.” She moved toward the doorway.
“If I correctly remember our introduction at your opening, you’re a native to the area, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Curious, Annie turned back, one hand on the doorknob. “Why, yes, I am.”
“Then you know Constance Laughlin.”
“Everyone knows Constance.” Annie smiled. “She’s like our den mother. Anything to do with Safe Harbor has to do with Constance.”
He nodded. Annie studied him, watched his cheeks flush a rich red. He turned away from her scrutiny to peer out the window. Why Constance, she wondered idly.
“You don’t happen to know where I’d find her this afternoon, do you?”
The words tumbled out in a rush, as if he were embarrassed to ask. There was something strange about him, almost furtive. As if he were hiding something. And yet, when she looked into his eyes, they seemed honest, clear. It was just that Russ Mitchard and this crazy day had confused everything.
“Constance?” She pretended to think. “Probably at the church. She’ll be checking the spring bulb collections in the flower beds. Constance has a thing about those bulbs. You might try there. First Peninsula Church.” She gave him directions.
The screech of brakes and a child’s yell cut off her explanation.
Drew!
Annie tore down the stairs, raced out the front door. What had the child done now?
“You could have gotten yourself killed! Me, too, if my reactions hadn’t been fast enough. You never run into the street after something. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”
Him again!
Annie saw Drew’s little face crumple at the mention of his mother. He hunched over in the street and bawled.
Annie marched out the door, right up to Russ Mitchard and glared at him.
“Did your mother tell you to think before you speak?” she hissed, glaring at him with the frostiest look she could muster as all her protective instincts swam to the fore. At his blank look, she boiled.
“He hasn’t got a mother,” she told him in a half whisper of pure fury. “I told you that.” She ignored his groan of dismay to crouch beside Drew. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you inside. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Somehow, Annie, I doubt that with you around things will ever be merely fine again.” Russ’s silvery eyes flashed with an inner fire.
Now what did that mean?
Russ brushed her out of the way, bent and scooped the boy into his arms. He carried him into the bed-and-breakfast.
“At least he’s not hurt. Are you?” He set Drew on a chair. Then his hands moved carefully over the small limbs, checking for fractures.
“I’m okay.” Drew dashed one hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry, Annie. I just wanted to see the cat. It was huge.” Drew’s tear-smudged face begged her to understand. “I’ve never seen a cat that big. She almost let me pet her!”
That cat. Again. Annie risked a look at Russ, watched him shrug, as if this, too, wasn’t his fault.
“I thought she was in her carrier?” she demanded softly.
“She was. But I had to let her out. She cries if I keep her in there. That’s why I let her out in here. I was afraid she’d start howling before I could explain.” He flushed. “I just didn’t get around