The Inn at Eagle Point

He walked into the Chesapeake Shores Yacht Club promptly at twelve-fifteen, expecting to find Abby waiting for him. He’d deliberately chosen the yacht club where they’d be seen by the town’s movers and shakers. Abby had always hated its pretentious atmosphere, which meant he’d have the upper hand.

A scan of the dining room showed she was nowhere in sight. Had she bailed on him, after all? The possibility rankled.

“Hey, Liz,” he greeted the hostess, who’d been in his high school class. “Any sign of Abby O’Brien?”

“It’s Abby Winters now,” she corrected him. “She called and said she was running late. Something about the twins getting sick. She’ll be here as soon as she can get here. She said to call her if you don’t feel like waiting.”

Trace winced at the mention of a married name and nearly groaned at the mention of twins. Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong after all. Maybe Abby wasn’t available. Maybe that was why she was so anxious to get back to New York. If so, he’d just gone out on a limb for nothing. Well, not for nothing. The inn did deserve a chance to make it, but he couldn’t deny that he’d had his own agenda.

He took the slip of paper that Liz held out with Abby’s number written on it. After dialing, he jotted down a takeout order for Liz as he waited for Abby to pick up. “Ask the kitchen to put a rush on this, would you?” he asked Liz, just as Abby finally answered. She sounded completely frazzled.

“Good, you’re still there,” he said, then announced, “I’ve ordered takeout. I’m on my way over.”

“Bad idea, Trace,” she protested. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Which means I can just as easily be there in twenty minutes,” he reminded her.

“But it’s a little chaotic over here.”

“Then you need to stay put,” he said. “I’ve ordered the food. It’ll be ready in a few minutes and I’ll head on over. Tell your grandmother not to fix lunch. There’s plenty for her, too.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Because I’m a nice guy.”

“A nice guy wouldn’t be blackmailing me into staying in Chesapeake Shores.”

“I prefer to see it as protecting the bank’s investment,” he countered. “See you soon.”

Actually he was delighted by this turn of events. Ever since he’d seen Abby again, he’d wanted to check out the lay of the land, so to speak. What better way than to survey it for himself?

The last person Trace expected to find waiting for him when he reached Abby’s was her father. Mick was sitting on the top step, his expression forbidding, his seemingly deliberate positioning on that step pretty much blocking Trace’s path.

“Heard you were coming over,” Mick said, his tone not the least bit welcoming.

Trace held up the takeout bags. “I have a meeting with Abby. I brought lunch.”

Mick patted the step beside him. “Maybe you should sit down so you and I can have a talk before you get together with Abby.”

Just as Mick uttered the words, the screen door banged open. “Trace, you’re here!” Abby said with forced gaiety. “Come on inside.”

Mick scowled. “Trace and I were about to have a chat.”

Abby scowled at her father. “It can wait,” she said firmly.

Trace watched with interest, wondering how the test of wills would play out. To his amusement, it was Mick who finally backed down. He stood up and moved out of the way.

“Guess I’ll go over to the inn and deal with that overgrown rhododendron,” he muttered, picking up a pair of hedge clippers.

Abby faltered. “Does Jess know you’re coming?”

“It was her idea,” Mick assured her.

“Then it sounds like a great idea,” Abby enthused.

After watching Mick amble away, Trace turned to Abby. “Why do I have the feeling that you just saved me?”

“Because I did. He’s not happy about this little scheme of yours.”

“It’s not a scheme. It makes perfect financial sense,” he reiterated.

“Blah-blah-blah,” she said. “We both know otherwise.”

Trace met her gaze and held it. “Do you really think I’d use Jess’s loan as a way to, what, get even with you? I thought we’d settled that the other day.”

“Not to my satisfaction,” she told him. “From what I hear, you’re trapped here for at least six months. Why not make my life miserable by trapping me here, too?”

“I’m not trapped. I made a deal with my father. This is a six-month trial run. Of course, I know the outcome will mean I leave and Laila will get the job she should have had all along, but my father’s optimistic things will work out differently.”

“Would you be here working at the bank if your dad hadn’t forced you into it?”

“He didn’t force me into it,” Trace said. “I agreed mostly to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“That my sister should be the one working there.”

She smiled. “By doing what? Failing miserably?”

“Not miserably,” he said. “Just look at the deal I struck with you. I’d say I proved myself with that.”

“We’re not going to agree on what’s going on here, are we?”

He shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Then let’s have lunch. Gram’s set the dining room table. She seems to think this meeting requires more formality, being strictly business and all.”

Trace chuckled. “Is she as ticked at me as your dad is?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then this should be fun,” Trace said, holding the door, then following her inside.

To Abby’s regret, Gram was nowhere in sight when they reached the dining room, and the table had only been set for two. Trace grinned when he saw it.

“Now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” he murmured. “Could it be that your grandmother’s matchmaking?”

“Absolutely not!” Abby said fiercely.