Accidental Sweetheart Read online

  Chapter Four

  Someone stepped in front of Chet, blocking the sun on his legs. Annoyance swept through him—until he heard Olympia’s voice.

  “Right here, Teagan.” She stood there while someone pulled up a lounger next to his, displacing some of the sand to do so.

  He said nothing as the chair was placed just so, and Olympia sat down on it. She wore a maxi dress today, and it was long and flowing. He caught a flash of her leg as she scooted back, and then she was covered up.

  Chet swallowed at the same time the pineapple scent of her skin met his nose. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Lunch,” she said.

  “I thought you were busy for lunch.”

  “Right here, yes,” she said, ignoring him. The Teagan guy fastened a tray to the arm of Olympia’s lounger, to which she said, “Thank you, Teagan.” She looked like royalty with her hair all swept up on her head and those overly large sunglasses.

  She hiked her skirt up to her knees as Teagan outrigged his lounger with a tray as well.

  “This is the lobster parfait,” he said. “It’ll be the appetizer at the Butler wedding.”

  “It has mango gelée,” Olympia said, picking up the half-sized spoon Teagan had laid on her tray.

  Chet simply stared at the perfectly crafted appetizer. He blinked, and he wasn’t on the private beach in Carter’s Cove, but back on the plantation, with servants attending to his every need and serving things like bacon-wrapped chestnuts for lunch.

  Lunch.

  “Mm,” Olympia said, bringing Chet back to the present. The wind still trying to tip over the umbrella now shading both of them. A few dozen feet way, the waves kept coming ashore. “You haven’t tried it,” she said.

  Chet glanced around for Teagan, but the man was nowhere to be found. He picked up his spoon too, and scooped up a bite of lobster covered in a creamy sauce, what looked like shredded potatoes, and a bit of that pale orange mango gelée Olympia had mentioned.

  He put the concoction in his mouth, and the moan was guttural. Instant. The lobster tender, the lemongrass and mango a perfect pairing with sweetness and tanginess and everything in between.

  “This is amazing,” he said, taking another spoonful from the delicate glass jar.

  “We cater here,” she said. “Teagan’s also the chef for Redfin.”

  “I got room service last night,” he said. “Who does that?’

  “We have a kitchen chef too,” she said, her spoon clinking against the bottom of her glass. “What did you have?”

  “The lobster dinner.” He turned his head to grin at her, and she smiled back. Chet did not need another girlfriend. In fact, he never wanted another girlfriend. But something about Olympia spoke to his soul, and she was beautiful.

  “This is one of the hors d’oeuvres,” Teagan said, interrupting Chet’s scandalous thoughts. “We have a skewered lamb with an almond mint pesto.” He bent and held out a tray for Olympia to take a piece of meat. She did, popping it effortlessly into her mouth.

  Chet felt like time moved in slow-motion as he watched her, wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

  Stop it, he commanded himself as he too took a lamb skewer. Everything about it was exactly right, from the bright pop of mint to the cook on the lamb. “Delicious,” he said.

  Teagan nodded as if he were a butler and walked away.

  “How many hors d’oeuvres will there be?” he asked.

  “We have a range,” she said. “I believe the Butlers chose three, then an appetizer, a main course, and then their cake.”

  There was no “believe” about it. Chet was willing to bet the sizable sum of money up in his penthouse that Olympia knew everything that happened here at The Heartwood Inn. The thought excited him—he used to be in the exact same position as she was, and it was thrilling to know everything, be privy to everything, experience everything.

  At the same time, a bolt of terror ran through him, because it was only a matter of time before she figured out why he was there.

  “So,” she said, a little too casually. She probably wasn’t used to beating around the bush. He’d never been when he was the boss of The Grand America. “I couldn’t find anyone named Chet Christopher out of Atlanta.”

  “Oh, you’ve looked me up.”

  “I like to know who’s sleeping right across the hall from me.” She peered at him over the top of her sunglasses, her eyes saying so much more than her mouth. Slipping her shades back into place, she added, “What’s next, Teagan?”

  The man had a special ability to appear out of nowhere, and he held another tray, this one with the bacon-wrapped medallions he was used to.

  “Bacon-wrapped sea scallops,” he said.

  “Oh, my grandmother used to make these with chestnuts,” Chet said, taking two of them. “But scallops would be much better.”

  Olympia remained silent while she took a scallop, biting it right in half as she studied him. Chet’s temperature skyrocketed, and he wondered how much he’d have to tell her to get her to take the lasers in her eyes down a notch.

  “I grew up on a plantation west of Savannah,” he said, really drawling out the city name. “My family was…quite wealthy. I mean, I guess they still are.”

  “Tobacco?” she asked.

  “Cotton,” he said. “We have a pecan grove. Peach trees. All the classic Georgia items.”

  “A smokehouse?”

  “What kind of plantation doesn’t have a smokehouse?” he asked in mock horror. A laugh followed, and he was glad it actually sounded like laughter. “It was all that kept my grandfather busy before he passed.”

  Olympia smiled. “Smoking meat. Really?”

  “Oh, Grandfather loved a good smoked piece of brisket,” Chet said in mock seriousness. He popped his second scallop in his mouth whole, the bacon perfectly crispy and the scallop at the exact right cook.

  “Teagan is a great chef,” he said. “It’s hard to get seafood and lamb done just right.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Do you have experience in a kitchen, Chet?”

  “Well…sort of,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  He had the same experience she did. An on-site restaurant that he dealt with if anyone was unhappy. “I’ve never worked in a restaurant,” he said. “But I’ve eaten in plenty of them. High-end ones.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “My dad was a nut about his steaks being perfectly medium-rare.”

  He could see his father’s face light up when the steak was placed before him. Chet distinctly remembered the way the whole table held their breath while Dad touched the steak and then cut into it.

  “He loved Horlacher’s,” he said. “This big steakhouse out in Bloomingdale.”

  Olympia nodded as if she’d been there. Maybe she had, but Chet doubted it. The Heartwood Inn was a family establishment, and she ran it. Just the fact that she’d come down to the beach was probably a big deal for her.

  “You speak of him in past tense,” she said.

  She reminded Chet so much of himself. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “He died about three years ago.” He closed his eyes, glad he’d come to the beach early enough to get an umbrella, as he’d lost his sunglasses somewhere between the last campground he’d stayed at and here.

  Olympia’s fingers felt like ice when she touched his arm, and he jumped, automatically pulling back.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, quickly removing her fingers. She cleared her throat, and Chet knew in that instant that she wasn’t infallible. Thomas had often called him that, but Chet was human underneath the perfect clothes, the tie that always laid right, the polished smile that never wavered in public.

  The moment he missed his old life passed quickly. He’d much rather sit here on the beach, eating five-star food and talking with this gorgeous woman than be tending to the rich people—like his father—who thought overcooking a steak was the worst crime man could commit.

  Oh, Chet had definitely had
enough of stuffy rich people in his life.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “You just startled me.”

  “Coriander chicken with garlic crostini,” Teagan said, startling both Chet and Olympia. “With red pepper couille and cilantro.”

  “I love cilantro,” Chet said, taking a slice of bread. “Salsa is one of my favorite foods.”

  “Shall I have the kitchen send down some chips and salsa?” Olympia asked as she took a crostini and Teagan walked away.

  “Nothing better than chips and salsa on the beach,” he said. Not that he would know, as he’d never actually noshed on chips and salsa whilst lying on the beach. His job hadn’t permitted him time to do that.

  The only reason he’d been dating Carrie was because she worked at The Grand America, and they could see each other on the job. The week or so between her breaking up with him and the whole financial scandal going down had been difficult for Chet. He’d gone into the spa so often to see her, and he hadn’t even realized how much of his downtime he spent in the break room there until he couldn’t go.

  “Perfect amount of cilantro,” he said, the bright herb hitting him right in the taste buds. “It’s easy to put too much on and overpower everything.”

  “Mm,” Olympia said.

  He glanced at her to find she’d leaned back in the lounger. She’d bent one knee and her skirt fell down her thigh. Chet traced the line of her leg before quickly pulling his eyes back to a safer view.

  “We have a dual entrée for this wedding,” Teagan said, and Olympia straightened. “It’s a grilled filet mignon with a thyme-crusted sea bass. We have cauliflower mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a merlot reduction.” He served them each a stunning plate of food, and Chet couldn’t believe this inn could produce this quality of food.

  Even The Grand America didn’t do that.

  “Thank you, Teagan,” Olympia said, her voice so sincere.

  “Yes, thank you,” Chet echoed, wondering what a meal like this would cost him. He’d been planning to order a cheeseburger and French fries, but one bite of the steak, and he wanted to eat that for every meal.

  “My father would approve,” he said.

  Olympia finally smiled, and Chet felt like he’d just scored a major victory. “What did you do for a living?” she asked, cutting her fish.

  “Who says I’m not employed now?”

  “The fact that you’re renting the penthouse for two months says that.”

  Annoyance flashed through Chet. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “Like I said, I like to know who’s directly across the hall from me.”

  Chet heaved a sigh just so she’d know how irritated he was with this conversation. And just when he’d been thinking about how he could see her again. Share another meal with her. Get to know her better.

  All of which was absolutely ridiculous. She was a well-dressed, professional woman who knew how to run an inn with dozens of moving parts. He was an unemployed bum who’d been living out of his car for three weeks, had been accused of money laundering, and had lost everything from his reputation to his dog by the time everything was said and done.

  “Believe it or not,” he said. “I worked in the hospitality industry, just like you.”

  “Is that so?”

  He felt the weight of her gaze on the side of his face, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking at her.

  “That’s why you felt the need to comment on the check-in procedures.”

  “Old habit,” he said.

  “And the elevators?”

  “They’re slow.”

  “They’re old,” she said. “And most people who come to the inn aren’t in a big hurry to go anywhere. They are somewhere.”

  Chet swiped a bite of steak through the reduction and knifed some potatoes on top. “All right,” he said. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Chet cleaned his plate as if he hadn’t been able to feed himself since leaving Atlanta.

  “Why’d you leave your job?”

  Chet exhaled in a hiss. “You go right for the jugular, don’t you?”

  She giggled, and he snapped his attention to her. She had straight, white teeth and ruby red lips that made his stomach tighten. Her shoulders moved in a sexy half-shrug, and she said, “Covering all my bases.”

  Chapter Five

  Olympia knew so much more about Chet now, and while she didn’t have all the answers, she thought she’d at least be able to fall asleep with him across the hall.

  “I was accused of something I didn’t do,” he said, those dreamy eyes trained back on the ocean. “So I quit, and I’ve been on a little vacation.”

  “No better spot for vacation than Carter’s Cove.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

  “A big role in hospitality?” she asked, taking a chance that she could ask him one more question and not get her face glared off. Plus, he’d said he didn’t come from a hotel, but she suspected he did. There were other areas of hospitality, though.

  “Big,” he said.

  An idea had been bubbling in the back of her mind, but she wasn’t sure she dared vocalize it. Number one, it would mean spending more time with Chet, and now that she knew he came from wealth, some of his backhanded compliments and snide remarks made sense. He was used to being waited on hand and foot, and the fact that he had to wait a few seconds for an elevator?

  Scandalous.

  Number two, it meant she’d be spending more time with Chet, and she couldn’t believe she wanted to do that.

  “Maybe you could consult me while you’re here,” she said, her voice a sort of forced casual he’d be able to hear. Heck, she could hear it.

  “A consultation?”

  “About the inn,” she said, some of her nerves starting to vibrate slightly. “I just took over the inn about nine months ago. It’s my first summer season, and maybe you’ll have a tip or two that would set Heartwood apart.” There, she’d said it.

  “Honey,” he said, a laugh following the word. “Heartwood is a world apart already.”

  “Is it?”

  “Absolutely,” he said as Teagan appeared to take their plates.

  “What did you think, ma’am?” he asked, and Olympia almost cringed. She’d never minded being called ma’am when it wasn’t in front of a handsome man who was surely younger than she was.

  “Delicious,” she said without missing a beat. “Absolutely wonderful, Teagan. We should have Jen come photograph all of the food for our quarterly. The website, all of it.”

  “I’ll tell Gwen.”

  “Thank you for bringing it to the beach,” she said, and Teagan smiled at her, flicked his gaze to Chet, and looked at her again, questions brimming in his eyes now.

  He said nothing as he walked away, but Olympia would have to provide some sort of explanation at some point.

  But not right now, and she leaned back in the chaise again, the breeze across her face blissful and the sound of the waves soothing.

  “Thanks for lunch,” Chet said at the same time his fingers brushed hers. She opened her eyes, blinking to clear the sleep from them as he stood. “I have a snorkeling tour in an hour, and it’s on the other side of the island.”

  “Oh, fun,” she said, scooting to the end of the lounger and pulling her dress down. She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or not, but electricity zinged through her now, originating where he’d touched her for a brief moment. “Have a great afternoon.”

  “I’ll probably see you waiting for the elevator tonight,” he said with a grin. And just like that, he walked away, leaving Olympia to wonder how old he was and if she could possibly open herself up to love again.

  Heck, she’d be happy with a date.

  Olympia did not run into Chet while she waited for the elevator that night. She’d never noticed how long the elevator took to arrive, but now it seemed like every second lengthened into a year.

  She found herself tapping her foot and glancing around as if she couldn’t
be caught standing in this hallway. At this hour, most of the activity in the inn happened near the bar and restaurant, and Olympia rolled her shoulders, which ached from her afternoon at her desk.

  The elevator finally came, and she stepped into it, ready to get out of her skirt and heels and into a pair of stretchy pants—or no pants at all—and her bed. She’d already eaten dinner, as the time for that had been hours ago, and Alissa had brought her a walking taco from the food truck fair happening at the park.

  She’d teased her sister about a funnel cake, and Olympia considered ordering the giant brownie with the cookies and cream ice cream for a late-night snack.

  What felt like an hour later—curse Chet Christopher and his remarks about the slow elevator—she stepped onto the twentieth floor to find the man standing in front of her door, his fist raised to knock.

  He turned toward her, a smile blooming on that handsome face as he lowered his hand.

  “What’s that you’ve got?” she asked, her feet screaming at her to get the shoes off already. She nodded to the plastic bag in his hand as she swiped her keycard to open her door.

  “I saw this thing today,” he said. “It was an ice cream s’mores. You use marshmallow ice cream, and the grocery store here happened to have some as they were doing a demo on it.” He lifted the plastic bag. “I have the graham crackers, hot fudge, and marshmallow ice cream, and I thought you might like a treat when you finally got done for the day.”

  Olympia stepped into her penthouse and kicked off her heels. She turned back to him, trying to decide if she should invite him in or suggest his place. She couldn’t believe she was even considering spending personal time with him.

  “You look tired,” he said. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

  Olympia was tired, but she didn’t want to be told she looked that way. “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Thirty-six,” he said.

  “You’d think you’d have learned by now not to tell a woman she looks tired.” Olympia flipped her hair over her shoulder, more annoyed with him than she should be. She really was tired.