Soldier, Handyman, Family Man Page 7

  “Time for cookies!” Laurel announced. The twins jumped up and down, and Mark smiled.

  While Peter chowed down several cookies, Mark went through the website again, comparing it with The Drumcliffe Hotel’s online presence.

  “Your online reservation link isn’t hooked up with anything,” Mark noted.

  “What do you mean?” Laurel looked concerned, maybe uptight?

  “To other programs that give you more visibility. But we can fix that. Let me give my dad a call.” As predicted, Sean promptly picked up. “Dad, can you come across the street for a minute? We need your help.” Mark liked how “we” sounded, like he belonged somewhere besides with his family.

  In the time it took Mark to eat a cookie, his father’s shadow loomed over the Victorian’s front door. Mark let him in, then made introductions as Sean Delaney appraised the first floor of the B&B.

  Laurel’s eyes darted between father and son, his father being a full three inches taller than Mark. He may look imposing, but the former high school math and history teacher was nothing short of a gentle giant. Unless you ticked him off, then look out.

  Mark escorted him to the kitchen and made introductions. Laurel offered him a cookie, which he partook of, then he sat on a stool and, wasting no time, walked Laurel through the various options for small business owners like her.

  “I get the need for this, but call me old school, or out of it, but whatever happened to people calling or emailing for reservations?”

  “I used to feel the same way,” Sean said, reassuringly, looking like the biggest man in the room—because he was. “But let me show you a few things.”

  With his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, he surfed the web. “There are programs you can download, or services you can sign up for. See this?” He pointed to the screen and Laurel moved in closer. “This is a website reservation group you sign up for and pay a small monthly fee that offers alternative distribution systems, shows availability, and most importantly, gets you greater visibility. See, it even breaks down the price per number for rooms you have to rent. How many do you have?”

  “Six.” Wrapped up in the moment, Mark jumped in, answering for Laurel. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “Okay, so for less than twenty bucks a month they can provide all of these services.” He leaned back and gave her time and space to read what they offered.

  “There are also cloud based reservations software programs, but I kind of like this one.”

  “So this website reservations program can show my openings on bigger sites, like my local chamber of commerce?”

  “Exactly, more exposure.”

  “You don’t have to sign up for this if you don’t feel ready,” Mark added, wanting to offer Laurel support on whatever decision she made. Laurel looked relieved when she glanced at him.

  “So there’s no overlapped bookings?”

  “Nope,” Sean said. “If someone signs up through them it goes automatically to your calendar.”

  Sean pointed to another section of the computer screen. “See, they offer a free trial, if you want I can sign you up and you can see if this works for you or not. If you don’t like it, just cancel.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Delaney.”

  “Call me Sean.”

  “Okay, Sean. If you don’t mind, I’m going to think about this, and if you could bookmark this web link for me, I’ll know where to go to sign up for the free trial. I can afford a small fee per month, I guess, if it does what it says, and I like the services.”

  “They’ve got a good rating, so no problem there.” Sean glanced at Laurel, then Mark. Like a gentleman, never pushing a point, Sean nodded and accepted her resistance. “If you decide, any way I can help, just let me know. By the way, you’ve done a great job with this old house. Looks fantastic.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mark liked how Laurel’s cheeks flushed the tiniest bit whenever she received a compliment. It made him want to take every opportunity to tell her something nice.

  After Dad left, and another half hour with the two of them exploring the various systems available out there, they shut down the laptop. It was the closest they’d been since the spread-tasting incident, and he liked every moment.

  “Your dad’s so nice. I’m leaning toward his suggestion, too.” She showed her gratitude with a hug.

  “No harm in trying it out,” he said, thinking he had a problem with how much he liked her hugging him.

  When she released him, she pushed the plate of cookies at him. “Please take these home for your dad.”

  When her nearby twins heard what she’d said, they both grabbed another treat, nearly emptying the plate. Soon, Mark left without a single moment completely alone with Laurel. But at least he had all the quick and flirty glances they’d shared before, during and after lunch, and while filming the virtual tours, and that great hug to remember.

  As it turned out, between her busy schedule and his hotel projects, those not-so-subtle glances were all he had to hold on to for the rest of the week.

  *

  The following Friday morning, Laurel couldn’t contain her excitement, and fear. Three local travel agents had responded to her outreach and were coming for a trial stay at Prescott B&B. They’d spend a few hours taking a tour and learning the history of the house, exploring the six guest rooms, testing the beds, reviewing her breakfast menu and sampling the wine and appetizers. Then Saturday morning they’d come back for breakfast.

  Mark was working on The Drumcliffe gazebo on the side yard, the project Peter had helped him with last weekend. Being the first person she wanted to share her news with, she took off across the street.

  “Mark! You won’t believe this.”

  He grinned the moment he saw her, and after the cat-and-mouse week they’d spent, with her wondering how to move forward after their romp in the ocean and inaugural kiss, that smile made a huge impact. Her grin was because he happened to be working with his shirt off. Yowza!

  “Good news?” He got off his knees and stood, making the display of flesh over muscle nearly blinding.

  She had to regather her thoughts, and redirect her line of vision. “Oh. Yes, the best!” She explained the plan for the night, which he was crazy about, even hugged her, which really felt great, and a little naughty considering his being shirtless. She’d missed the scent of warm man skin. Once again having to compose herself, she moved forward with her plea. “The thing is, when they get here, I’ll need someone to watch the girls while I give the tour and the open house.”

  “And Peter isn’t available?”

  “Peter promised to stay in his room and play video games. If he watches the girls, I can’t guarantee a problem won’t break out, or that the twins might make a racket or yell at him.”

  He scrunched up half of his face, and not because the sun was in his eyes. “Are you asking me to babysit?”

  Put like that, blunt, it did sound horrible, and completely inappropriate. She cleared her throat, knowing the request was unreasonable, but not having a plan B. “Not, uh, in the traditional se-sense,” she stammered. “Just maybe sit with them in their room, keep them quiet for like a half hour, forty-five minutes tops, while I give the tour.”

  He stood there shirtless, staring at her, looking, maybe, incredulous? “You hadn’t thought about this part? When you start having guests? What the kids would do?”

  Now she felt like a total fool, but the truth was out. Until she had regular B&B guests, and she could afford to hire a babysitter, her best idea was to make them stay in their rooms and be quiet. But four-and-a-half-year-old twins didn’t know the meaning of the word. “I’ll work this out better in the future, I promise, but is there any chance you can sit with them at four today?”

  He shrugged, noncommittally. “Skip Peter’s surf lesson?”

  “He’s okay with that, I already asked him last night.”

  *

  Mark had seen Laurel in all kinds of sticky situations over the
past two weeks, since the day he’d met her, but he’d never seen her looking desperate before. So he gave her outrageous request—thirty-one-year-old man, not the father, babysitting her daughters—a second thought. And agreed. But only because he really liked her. Really liked her.

  At quarter to four, he’d showered and changed clothes and strode across the street. When he hit the porch of the B&B, he could hear Claire’s and Gracie’s squeals and laughter. Good point about keeping them quiet when the guests arrived. But what about during the Saturday morning breakfast for the guests? Who’d watch them then?

  He tapped on the door.

  “Is he here?” the girls sang aloud in unison.

  “Calm down,” Laurel instructed, just before she appeared at the door looking fantastic. Wow. She’d put her hair up, and wore a sky-blue patterned sheath dress that showed off her legs, the matching blue pumps helping highlight those shapely calves. This was a sophisticated side he hadn’t seen before, and he really liked it. She was nothing like the girls he used to date. Heck, a woman like her would’ve never given him a second glance. Maybe that was why he was watching her kids instead of taking her out to dinner? Insecurity wasn’t appealing and it was time to change. Step up, Delaney.

  “Hi,” she said, stress and worry ruining her overall appearance.

  “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” After a quick sigh of relief, she let him in.

  The girls jumped up and down, wearing what looked like frilly fairy outfits, one neon pink, one lime green. “We’re gonna have a tea party!”

  He wanted to address Laurel’s nerves, give her a pep talk or something, but he was being swarmed by the little ones. “You are?”

  “No, we are!” Claire clarified.

  Gracie gave an excited giggle, her fingertips in her mouth.

  Mark slowly cast his gaze in Laurel’s direction. “We are?”

  Her brows came together, making a single quote mark above her nose, as she mouthed, sorry.

  “Whose idea was this?” he addressed the fairies in a tolerant way.

  “Mine!”

  “Mine!”

  Now they were jumping, and in five minutes Laurel’s first-ever guests, local travel agents who could make or break her opening, were set to arrive. “Well, as my grandda always says, in for a penny, in for a pound.” He clapped his hands. “Let’s do this.” Then herded them toward their room.

  “I owe you,” Laurel said quietly when they hit the hall.

  “Oh, yes, you do,” he replied, rounding the corner.

  She closed the doors, shutting off the family quarters from the rest of the house. Though feeling suddenly trapped, Mark opted to concentrate on several great ideas for how Laurel might pay him back.

  “Okay, girls, whenever you go to a tea party, you have to talk quietly.” He gulped when he saw the tiny table set and ready to go, with three pip-squeak-sized chairs, one obviously meant for him. Managing to get one bun on it, with his knees nearly up to his chin, he worried the chair might break. But so far so good.

  The tea was water, but the cookies were fresh-baked snickerdoodles, so it wasn’t all bad. And most important, the girls were following his rule and talking quietly. But how long would that last? If he stayed sitting so low to the ground, would they want to style his hair? Put play makeup on him?

  After they finished off the cookies in record time, he got a bright idea.

  “Hey, you want to watch me hammer some nails?”

  “Yes!” they blurted loudly in unison.

  “Shh, shh, shh. Remember the tea party rules,” he whispered, and they immediately went quiet. “Okay, follow me.”

  With his index finger covering his mouth, he took them tiptoeing through the kitchen and out the back door, around the side yard, which had been cleaned up immaculately from the first time he’d seen it, and then headed across the street for the gazebo frame, one twin holding on to each of his hands.

  Once on the grass, the girls went directly into play mode and started jumping and dancing around. He picked up a hammer, recovering some of his masculine dignity, and while they frolicked, he began some work.

  “Can I try?” Claire asked a few short minutes later, pushing her glasses up her nose.

  “Me, too?” Gracie.

  So he let them both have a turn. Claire aimed for the nail he held in place with puppy-light taps. When Gracie took her turn, she got serious and wound up like a member of a prison chain gang, coming down hard on the nail head, but hitting Mark’s index finger and thumb instead. Mostly his thumb.

  “Son of a—” He jumped up, shaking off the pain, biting out the words. His lips came together to form a B, but he hesitated as he glanced at his tiny charges, dressed like frilly fairies, eyes wide like elves. “—building block!”

  Yeah, Laurel definitely owed him.

  “And who might these wee ones be?” Grandda appeared out of nowhere.

  Mark pretended nothing was wrong with his hand. “Uh, this is Claire and Gracie, Laurel’s daughters.”

  “She give ’em to you, did she?”

  “Just for the evening. Can I help you with anything, Grandda?”

  “No,” he said, while looking as though he had a dozen more questions. “Just thought I’d be pulling a handle for a pint, wondered if you’d care to join me.”

  Mark glanced around at the girls twirling in circles to make themselves dizzy, giggling all the way. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I can’t.”

  On the periphery, Mark noticed movement and turned to see Peter crossing the street with a sour expression. Grandda looked even more interested, so he stuck around.

  “Come to help out?” Mark said when Peter joined him at the gazebo frame, suspicious of the reason for his visit.

  “No.” He pouted and didn’t make eye contact.

  “Looks like you’ve been sucking a lemon. Lose your video game?”

  “No. Mom said I have to watch the girls in the morning, get them out of the house, when the people come back for breakfast.”

  “So?”

  “I’m supposed to meet someone tomorrow morning.”

  The girls were cute and fun, and generally easygoing, but, as a grown-up, Mark could appreciate the fact they were wearing fairy outfits. With Peter finally reaching out trying to make new friends, Mark could understand how uncomfortable he might feel, when nothing mattered more than what your peers thought of you.

  “I get it, but she needs your help until she gets the business off the ground. And I bet, just in case the person you’re meeting tomorrow is a girl from your class, she’d think they’re adorable. Why not just buy everyone ice cream instead of fighting it? It might work out in your favor.”

  Peter poked at a rock with his flip-flop-exposed toe rather than answer, but Mark was almost positive he was onto something with the “girl from your class” guess. He could also understand how a guy might want a first meet with a girl to be just the two of them.

  “You two look to be about my little Anna’s age,” Grandda said, ignoring Peter’s sour attitude, and grinning at the bubbly twins.

  Then it hit Mark. Anna! Of course, why didn’t he think of that? He dug his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed Daniel. “Hey, what’s Anna doing tomorrow morning?”

  “Well, hello to you, too. I’m at work, don’t really know. Let me ask Keela.”

  “Could you ask her if Claire and Gracie can come to play tomorrow morning, say around nine?”

  A minute later, while Peter hung close, waiting for his verdict to come in, Keela came on the phone. “That’d be fine. We can take them all to the park for the morning. I’ve been meaning to have them over for a playdate anyway. May I ask why you’re askin’?”

  Mark looked Peter in the eyes. “Just trying to help out a friend.”

  He thought he saw a twitch at the corner of the boy’s mouth.

  Then he realized how that might sound to Keela, who couldn’t see Peter. Now he’d probably get grilled by Daniel about Lau
rel. “Okay, thanks. Gotta go.”

  And speaking of Laurel, she was crossing the street in that pretty dress with a victorious grin, as three cars drove off behind her.

  “Now you’re free to help me on the gazebo tomorrow morning,” Mark said to Peter, getting the reaction he’d expected…happy about getting out of babysitting, but frustrated he’d been tricked into helping Mark another Saturday.

  If Mark wasn’t mistaken, Grandda’s interest picked up a notch as Laurel got closer.

  “So how’d it go?” Mark asked.

  “Terrific!” Her smile spoke a thousand words. He liked how that looked.

  On reflex, he hugged her—a congratulatory hug—soon realizing the huge mistake in front of his grandfather. “That’s great.”

  “They gave me so much positive feedback, I’m reeling. Now all I have to do is wow them with my famous peach-stuffed French toast tomorrow morning.”

  A throat cleared. Loudly. Grandda.

  “Oh, hey, Grandda, have you met Laurel Prescott yet?”

  “Not yet.” He reached out his hand to shake. “’Tis a pleasure.” Grandda slid a knowing sideways glance at Mark. Daniel and Keela weren’t the only ones he was sure to get grilled by.

  “Same here,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my entire family being camped out in your yard.”

  “Not at all. The more the merrier, I always say. Right, Marky, my boy?”

  Oh, yeah, Mark would have a dozen questions to answer the moment he was alone with his grandfather. But right now, Mark didn’t care because he was racking up the IOU notes from Laurel. “So I just solved your problem about tomorrow morning. Or maybe I should say, Peter’s problem. The girls have been invited to spend the morning with Keela and Anna at the park.”

  Laurel’s eyes widened as she inhaled. “That’s fabulous. Thanks so much.” She shifted her gaze to her son. “Looks like you’re off the hook, Peter.”

  “Not,” Peter grumbled.

  “He’s going to help me raise the roof on the gazebo tomorrow afternoon.”

  Laurel shook her head, a twinge of disbelief in her eyes. Yeah, Mark could work wonders when he had to. “You are blowing my mind with your thoughtfulness. I owe you big-time.” She hugged him again and squeezed her arms tight around his back, and his bright idea seemed completely worth it. “Thanks so much.”