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Chapter
Eleven
Grant wasn’t surewhat was happening with Bea.She wasn’t speaking, and he couldn’t tell if she was still on the line or not.His phone hadn’t hung up, so he assumed so.“Bea?”he tried again, this time her name forming a question and not a plea.
“All right,” Clinton said, and Grant turned back to the air compressor in the backyard of the beach cottage.
He took a step, his phone beeping to let him know the call had just ended.Surprised, he pulled it away from his ear and looked at it.Sure enough, Bea wasn’t on the line anymore.
A riot started in his ribs, and Grant’s first thought was to get in the car and get back over to Bea.
“You just need some new cooling coils,” Clinton said, and Grant blinked away from the screen of his phone to look at his friend’s face.“I can get ‘em after my first job and get them in this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” Grant said, seeing this problem resolve itself.He looked back at his phone, and he had no service.That was definitely a new problem, and Bea probably thought he’d hung up on her.
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the multiple arrivals this afternoon, nor the two with special requests.He always personally delivered those, and he’d known—he’dknown—he’d need to be on the housekeeping crew well into the afternoon today.
He’d given a couple of his crew this week off, as he wanted to maintain good morale for his housekeeping, and everyone deserved time away from their jobs.Him included, and he’d so been looking forward to today.
Foolishness filled him, and he turned and walked with Clinton as they went around the house toward the front driveway.His bars returned, and he quickly tapped to call Bea again.She didn’t pick up, and Grant frowned at his device.
They’d been getting along so well, even if he had only met her a few days ago.They’d laughed and talked all through dinner, and he’d parked in his own driveway and then held her hand as they half-wandered and half-sauntered next door to the bungalow.He’d thought about her right up until the moment he’d fallen asleep, and she’d been his first thought when the sun had come through the slats that morning.
He’d thought about kissing her good-night last night, but Bea held something back from him, and Grant hadn’t dared to lean in only to be rejected.He told himself he still had six full days with the woman in town, and there was plenty of time to ask her if she felt the same strong feelings for him that he felt for her.
Now, however, Grant felt like his time had been ruthlessly cut short.
I’m sorry, he said.I’m stupid and didn’t look at my calendar.I can send you the info for the Port Royal Plantation, so you can still go.
He signed some paperwork for Clinton and said he’d swing by the house later that day to make sure everything was working, and then he checked his phone again.No texts from Bea.No return call from her either.He did have a zillion other notifications—everything from his calendar reminding him of his upcoming arrivals, the arrow that told him he had messages on the website where people booked their vacation stays, and the icon for a couple of missed calls, both from his head housekeeper, Chelsea.
Ignoring that, he tried Bea again, but she didn’t answer for a second time.She should’ve been ready to leave the bungalow twenty minutes ago, and she shouldn’t be in the shower or anything like that.No, she just didn’t want to talk to him.Message received, loud andclear.
That message, nor the fact that he had two big rental properties to clean and prep that day, didn’t deter him from making the drive over to the bungalow.Her rental sat in the driveway, which meant she hadn’t left to do her day of historical sightseeing alone.
He dashed toward the door as his phone rang.He wanted to take the device to the edge of the continent and chuck it as far as he could into the ocean.Chelsea’s name sat there again, and he had to answer.
“Hey,” he said, breathing hard for how much running he’d done that day already.“I’m on my way, I swear.”
“Okay.I was just double-checking.”
He rapped on the bungalow’s door.“I just had that AC issue at the beach cottage and couldn’t answer your other calls.”
“Oh, right,” she said.“I sent Tawny’s crew to the condos, and Les took Paige over to the duplex.”
“Great.”He lifted his hand to knock again.Bea had said that she had a stubborn streak, and Grant had chuckled about it.He wasn’t doing any laughing now.This knock landed more like a pound, and he added, “I’ll meet you at the Langston place.”
“I just got here,” she said.“I’ll start the laundry, and then head over to High Tower Street to do the same there.”
“Yep, that’s perfect, Chelsea,” he said right as the door got whipped open.Bea stood there, anger shooting from her eyes like daggers.“Thank you.”He lowered the phone though his head housekeeper said something else.His heartbeat boomed through his body and up into his head.
“Bea,” he said.
“Is Chelsea your girlfriend?”
Grant blinked.“What?”
“I knew I should’ve asked you if you were seeing anyone.”She scoffed and shook her head.“You could’ve said something too, you know.”
