Read Online The Red Door Inn by Liz Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

one finger. “I’m not really sure. But it might involve either risking our necks cleaning second-story gutters, or worse, grocery shopping.”
    A little pop of breath jumped out of her like she couldn’t hold it in. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was a pleasant sound, one he hoped he’d get to hear again. She ran her fingers through her hair, dislodging that misbehaving strand over her ear, then fidgeted with the zipper on her sweater. She looked away, then back at him, then quickly away again.
    She was every bit as unsure what to do with him as he was with her. Why hadn’t he noticed before?
    â€œTell you what, I don’t want to find out what Jack would do if we don’t get started looking for those antiques. So I’ll make you a deal. Come with me for a quick shopping trip, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
    â€œDo I have to sit with you?”
    â€œThat’s the generally accepted custom. But hey, if you want to sit by yourself, I won’t stop you.”
    She rubbed her hands together, breathing quickly.
    â€œSo? What do you say?”

6
    A re you going to get in?” By the time Seth opened the door of his truck, Marie had made it to the rear bumper. “Were you planning on walking to the antique store again?”
    She nodded and shook her head at the same time, sending her hair whipping across her face. As she leaned forward, she took a matching step back, just confirming his suspicion. She did not want to go with him. She’d probably only agreed to make the shopping trip to get a free dinner.
    When was the last time she’d eaten a real meal?
    She couldn’t afford to lose any weight. Her elbows already poked at the sleeves of her jacket, her collarbone sticking out below her neckline.
    Aunt Rose would have tried to fatten her up. Which was exactly what Jack would try to do too. Which meant that was what Seth would do as well.
    â€œJust get in.” He sighed, pointing to the passenger side of the cab.
    What was it with this girl? She couldn’t stand up to a stiffwind and shook like a lost puppy in a thunderstorm. But she had no problem telling Jack that he’d picked out ugly paint colors.
    Seth hadn’t even been able to do that.
    He couldn’t afford to discourage his uncle, who needed every bit of support Seth could muster. Especially after Rose’s death more than a year before. So he’d been party to the dining room fiasco, slopping moss-green paint across the wide walls, cringing with every brushstroke.
    Before his trip to Halifax, before he’d met Marie, Jack had been nearly ready to give up on Rose’s dream. Ready to throw in the hammer, close up the inn, and retire in a quiet Phoenix suburb.
    Ready to leave Seth with only that empty apartment as home.
    He couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t ready to go back to—
    â€œCalifornia. Is that where you’re from?” Marie’s question barely made it across the bench seat of his pickup. Her fists grabbed the old fabric, twisting into the cushion as she tried to pull herself up.
    He almost offered to help after watching her struggle for several long moments. Finally she jumped far enough to wrench herself the rest of the way into her seat.
    When she settled in and slammed the door, he rolled out of the driveway, pulling onto the road lined with classic and refurbished homes to the right. A fishing boat in the bay to his left wove between rows of mussel-sock markers, the late afternoon sun glistening on the ripples in the vessel’s wake.
    As they reached the stop sign at the end of the road, he finally responded to her question. “How’d you know about California?”
    â€œYour license plate.”
    Right. And she’d probably noticed the outline of the decals that he’d pulled off of the doors too. He wasn’t the best contractor in Southern California anymore. He was just handy with a hammer in North Rustico, middle