The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances Read online

Delia slows to a stop, turning with a confused look on her face.

  “No,” I say again, quietly this time. “I’ll stay in the loft.”

  Delia’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No one has set foot up there in years. The last person was… well, it was likely yourself. Are you sure, dear?”

  She scoffs like the loft is a relic, a long-forgotten legend from a bygone era. But I’ve never been more sure of anything. If I’m staying anywhere at Legacy, it’s going to be the loft.

  “I’m sure.” I smile.

  “Suit yourself, dear. Go get your things, set yourself up, and then meet me in the reception.” With that, Delia continues on her journey, disappearing into the kitchen.

  As I grab my pillows, blankets and storm-chasing gear from my car, my stomach flips. My smile is slowly replaced by a frown of bewilderment.

  What just happened? I expected to make an excuse, get back in my car, and drive to Edendale. I was going to spend my summer in peace, listening to my audiobooks, chasing storms, and watching scary movies.

  My gear stacked in my arms, I open the door to the loft staircase and turn on the light. I climb the old wooden stairs. It’s pitch black in the loft, and there’s a vague smell of mothballs and dust. I sneeze into my pile of pillows. The floor creaks beneath my feet. I can’t remember where the main lightswitch is, so I drop the pillows and blankets on the floor and head for the beam of light peeking through the curtains.

  Great. I’m sleeping in a dusty loft with a lofty job as receptionist for the Legacy Inn.

  I’m not sure what I’ve done, but at least as long as I’m in the loft no one will bother me.

  7

  Noah

  My shoulders and back are tense as I stir the taco meat. My stomach grumbles loudly but I’m hardly aware of it. Fernando is in the event room, clearing plates and mingling with staff. He insisted that I eat lunch with the rest of the staffers, but, with Carrie gone, I know I’m needed in the kitchen.

  I’m barely holding down the fort for tonight’s Welcome Bash. Between monitoring the taco meat, preparing the salads and getting the lasagna ready, I’ve hardly had time to check the clock, let alone eat something. All I know is that it’s way past lunchtime. I grab a fry from beneath the heat lamp.

  Then, like a prayer answered, the kitchen door opens and a guy from school wanders in — Jon or Johnny or something. I know he plays for the Edendale Eagles, but I don’t really keep up with school sports.

  “Hey, I’m Jonathan,” the guy says with a friendly smile. “Delia sent me here. What can I do to help?”

  “Noah,” I crunch on a fry. “Fernando should be back soon and he’s got a list.”

  Jonathan grabs a spare apron and looks around for something to do. Immediately, a small wave of relief washes over me and my shoulders relax infinitesimally. At least we have another helper for now. I just hope we can keep up. I continue stirring the taco meat and my stomach emits the loudest grumble known to mankind.

  Jonathan blinks. “Dude, have you had lunch?”

  “No rest for the wicked.”

  “You need to eat. I’m not much of a cook, but I’m pretty sure I can stir meat.”

  My stomach grumbles in agreement. I hand over the spoon. “Thanks.”

  I grab a couple of eggs and bacon, and Jonathan and I talk while I make lunch. It turns out, he not only plays for the Edendale Eagles, but he’s actually their star midfielder.

  He stirs the taco meat. “Play any sports?”

  “Football and basketball back in the day — haven’t played much in the past few years.” I shove some eggs into my mouth. It’s hard to find time for sports when you’re working two jobs and helping your dad look after the twin terrors. “Just haven’t had the time.”

  Suddenly, Fernando barges into the kitchen. His eyes are wide with fright. “There’s something upstairs!”

  “Like a monster?” I ask, a piece of bacon falling from my mouth.

  “Worse.” Fernando looks at us both seriously. “I think it’s a raccoon.”

  Jonathan and I exchange a glance, then we both burst out laughing.

  Fernando glares.

  I shake with laughter, nearly choking on my food. “A raccoon?”

  “Or something!” Fernando says. He gestures animatedly. “There’s a lot of creaking… something is up there.”

  Grinning, I remove my apron. “I’ll deal with your monster, Fer. I used to hang out there all the time when I was a kid.”

  “Grazie, Noah. Please. Get rid of it.” Fernando hands me a broom.

  “What do you want me to do with this?” I ask. “Sweep it under the rug?”

  “Whatever you need to do,” he says ominously.

  I roll my eyes. I’m neither sweeping the thing, nor doing whatever Fernando is alluding to, but I can tell he’s worried. I grab the broom to appease him, and leave the kitchen. The door to the loft is right next to the kitchen.

  Strange — the light in the staircase is on. How long has that been on for?

  Something rustles upstairs.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands.

  The floorboards creak. Whatever’s up there must be big. Goosebumps prickle my skin.

  I climb the steps quietly, not wanting to alarm the raccoon. At the top of the stairs, I step lightly into the loft. My eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness, but the rustling is getting louder. I hear a noise near the window.

  There’s something there. Something by the curtains.

  Something huge.

  I lift the broom. My legs tense, ready to lunge forward—

  The curtains lift.

  Daylight blinds me.

  “Agh!”

  At my yelp, the thing screams too. It falls against me and I step back onto something uneven and unstable. Off-balance, I tilt backwards, my arms wrapping around the thing.

  I hit the floor, but it isn’t hard and painful. I’ve fallen into a pile of clouds.

  I open my eyes and stare into a turquoise gaze that I know very well.

  “What the? Noah?” Bree Lewis has fallen on top of me and my arms are wrapped tight around her. Her hands are pressed against my chest and a stack of pillows and blankets has broken our fall.

  Bree Lewis. The girl who is as much a part of my summer memories as sunburns, popsicles by the dock, and barbecued burgers.

  “Um, surprise?” My voice is gravelly.

  “Why are you sneaking up on me?” She narrows her eyes, her voice cautious.

  “We can talk when you take your elbow out of my stomach.”

  “Whoops.” Bree peels herself off me and helps me up. A swirl of dust floats in the beam of sunlight, and it makes her look like a vision from another life, like an old polaroid. Which, I suppose, she is. She’s wearing jean shorts and a lacy white top, her rose-colored hair falling delicately around her shoulders. She puts her hands on her hips. There’s a slight smirk on her lips. “So. What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Hunting raccoons.”

  “Raccoons?”

  “Fernando thought you were a raccoon.”

  “What gave me away?” She raises her hands in front of her and twiddles her fingers like a hungry raccoon.

  I laugh. "Just keep your paws out of the kitchen and we won't have any problems."

  Bree laughs with me, and the sound pulls me into the past. Entire summers flash before me. Capture the flag. Hide and seek. Eating burnt popcorn and watching bad movies. It was a happier, brighter time. Back when we were best friends.

  I feel like I’m going to lose my balance again, but Bree doesn’t seem to notice.

  "I wondered if you might be here this summer," she says. From the tone of her voice, it's impossible to detect whether that's good or bad. "Delia says I was probably the last person to use the loft."

  "You weren't," my voice is firm, almost accusatory. "I mean, I was."

  "Really?" Bree looks uncertain. She frowns. "Are you sure? Because I—"

  "I'm sure." Th
ere's a chill in the loft that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, and everything to do with what's happened between us. When I close my eyes, I can ignore it. I can pretend we're still kids listening to the rain patter against the roof and watching movies after a swim in the lake. But when I open my eyes — when I see Bree — I remember what happened three years ago.

  I force a smile. "But I'll catch up with you later. I’ll tell Fernando his raccoon is much larger than expected."

  “And much hungrier,” Bree adds.

  “Good to see you again,” I say. The words have a forced, artificial quality to them. Then I’m out of the loft and down the stairs.

  Growing up, I would've stood in front of a bus for her. But after what happened three years ago, there was no point in even staying friends.

  8

  Bree

  “Bree, my girl.” Nath glides into reception, a living flashback. Nath has been with the Inn for as long as I can remember, her dark hair and twinkling eyes staples of my past. She leans against the reception desk. “I’m heading to the Welcome Bash but wanted to say hi. How’re you settling in?”

  I shuffle the papers in front of me. “Aside from almost being beheaded by a broom, it’s been alright.”

  “What?!”

  “Noah thinks I resemble a raccoon,” I say. “Do you think I overdid the eye shadow?”

  “The resemblance is uncanny.” Nath guffaws and then raises her eyebrows. “Aren’t you guys the best of friends?”

  Goosebumps appear on my skin. Falling backwards into his arms earlier today opened a portal to our past. My heart was racing from the fright.

  “We grew apart...” I trail off, trying to think back over what, exactly, happened to us. “We’re different people now.”

  Noah used to be my best friend — the best friend I’ve ever had in my entire life. Seeing him at Legacy is eerily familiar but displaced. It’s like he’s a different person here. Edendale High Noah is the hot, mysterious loner that all the girls crush on. Legacy Inn Noah is my old friend, the keeper of my childhood secrets, the boy who helped me perform the heist known as Operation Fort Legacy.

  “I see,” Nath says. Her dark eyes pierce through me.

  I shift in my seat, feeling oddly like she knows something I don’t.

  Her eyes clear and she smiles brightly. “Well, we’ve missed you and we’re thrilled you’re back. It’s going to be a busy summer, Delia is lucky to have you.”

  With a wave, Nath darts out of the reception.

  I return to the list of tomorrow’s arrivals. My heart sinks. The more people that see me here, the more difficult it will be to escape. I don’t want to let anyone down, but I can’t stay here, either. Not if I want to fulfill my dream of a summer just for me. Right now I’m even being — gasp — productive.

  Yes, I did it. I put together the list of arrivals for Delia. Kade and Cooper Monroe will be staying in the flashy penthouse, but the rest of the list is a bore. There aren’t any other famous people, but if I was Taylor Swift or Emma Watson, I wouldn’t be flashing my name around. I would hate to have paparazzi following me. ‘Lead actress’ might have to stay off my list of career aspirations but, if I work on a movie set, I might consider being a director, or maybe a lighting person...

  I haven’t put much thought into what I want to do after graduation. The one thing I do know is that I will not be attending an Ivy League business school.

  The reception is a chamber of silence and I wish there was a radio. But, I won’t be here for long, so that’s not my problem. I consider napping in my chair, but I’ve had far too much caffeine. Time for some snooping. Someone as chaotic as Delia must have interesting things hidden around her office.

  I tiptoe around the reception desk and into Delia’s office. A mess doesn’t begin to describe what her office looks like. Photos of friends and family line the walls and the shelves. Her desk is littered with paperwork, more photos, and a frog figurine. The aerial photo behind her desk shows the old Inn — the creaky dock that me and Noah used to dive from, the trampoline, the trees where we would build forts.

  I continue my tour of Delia’s office, snooping in the bookshelves and in her desk drawers. She has a ton of random paraphernalia, including several photos of her skydiving. After discovering tons of party glasses, a couple of guitar strings, a fanny pack with “Edendale Marathon”, and a clown nose, I’ve surmised that there is a lot more to Delia than just being the Inn’s manager.

  And then, I look behind the door. There are cowboy hats — everywhere.

  It’s a wall of color and each hat is displayed proudly on its own hanger. There are hats with feathers, hats with streaks of rainbow, tie-dye hats, and hats whose rims have bells hanging off. It’s the kind of thing you’d only ever see in movies.

  I take a rose pink hat off the wall and place it on my head, assessing my reflection in the mirror. Keeping the hat, I check the paperwork on her desk. There are lists and lists of tasks to get done around the Inn, events to run with the guests, weddings to coordinate. It’s completely overwhelming.

  “Busy bee,” I mumble. It’s clear why she wants a receptionist this summer. I don’t blame her for feeling tense and stressed.

  I frown and take off the cowboy hat. Delia is not what I expected. She’s wild and lively and colorful, and yet, she’s able to run the Inn seamlessly. She brings new ideas to the table, valuable thoughts and perspectives that usually pay off. Or so I’ve overheard from my parents.

  Too bad I won’t be sticking around to help. I’m hit with a pang of guilt but I quickly stifle it. Delia has made it this far alone. Surely, she doesn’t need me this summer. Surely, I can escape back to Edendale.

  I don’t want to stay, but I don’t want to leave her in a lurch, either. Her to-do list grows longer by the second, and if I add “find a new receptionist” onto the list...

  There’s only one solution. She has to be the one to send me back to Edendale. If she does, it means that she can handle this herself. Plus, if you believe my mom, I’ll probably just be in Delia’s way if I stay here. The sooner I make Delia see that, the sooner she sends me home. Win-win.

  I place the cowboy hat on its hanger and stroll out of the reception. The bustling chatter and laughter in the event room is getting louder by the moment, signaling the start of the Welcome Bash.

  So it’s settled. How long will it take for Delia to realise what everyone else already knows: I’m not an asset, I’m a liability.

  A few hours later, I’m sitting at a table, my fork plunged into a piece of extra cheesy lasagna. I still haven’t figured out a way to prove that I’m a liability. Delia’s gathered the staff in the main room and is making announcements. Laying down the ground rules. There’s no point in paying attention — she’ll be sending me back to Edendale soon.

  As soon as I figure out how to make that happen.

  I’m mid-bite and considering the best time to drive home when I hear Delia’s voice through the crowd.

  “Bree Lewis? Where’s Bree?”

  I turn towards her voice but I can’t see anything through the crowd. Delia calls my name again. She wants me to go to the front of the room.

  I awkwardly push my way through the crowd of strangers, feeling the eyes of everyone watching me. I don’t like being in the spotlight, and especially not in front of people I don’t know. My breaths get shallow.

  Then, my eyes find Noah’s at the front of the room. A sense of calm floats over me as I take my place next to him. He smiles back warmly and I give him a cheeky wink.

  He frowns and puts his pinky to the side of his mouth. I continue smiling for a moment before realizing that there’s a purpose to this. I slap my hand to my face. When I pull it away, there’s tomato sauce on my fingers.

  Great. Just great. My cheeks burn.

  I wipe off the tomato sauce and sigh. It’s a good thing I’m not the kind of girl who’s into Noah, or that probably would’ve killed me. Noah grew up around the time we stopped hanging out a
nd, within a few months, he went from scrawny and awkward to strong and confident. And, he’s got really nice hair. When it’s longer, it’s perfect to run your fingers through. Or so I’d imagine.

  I assess him quietly while Delia continues through the list of students. With his full lips and sparkling blue eyes, he definitely isn’t bad looking. And he’s got that mysterious half-smile that so many girls go crazy for. I wonder what he’s thinking about.

  Another memory fights for my attention and Delia’s voice fades into the background — it’s something my mom said years ago.

  It was a Saturday and Noah and I were meant to hang out. We had plans to go to a beautiful meadow we used to go to for picnics and day trips. Lying on the grass, our arms outstretched, we could watch storms roll in from the horizon. We stared at the sky for hours, hoping to see ball lightning — where lightning literally forms a ball.

  Noah and I both loved storms back then.

  Before I was meant to meet him, my mom and I were arguing. She was telling me off for eating the rest of the fruit roll-ups, but I was hungry after a tiny lunch of salad and egg whites — per the latest diet she had me on.

  “Where are you going now?” She asked, exasperated.

  I tied my blonde hair back into a ponytail. I was wearing this stupid dress she made me put on.

  “The meadow. Noah and I are going to hang out for a bit. His mom’s dropping us off.”

  “Don’t you think you should get a headstart on your English reading? And what about the Edendale High Tea today?” Her voice was impatient. “Bree. It’s time you started thinking about your future.”

  “I’m thirteen.”

  “The perfect age to get your act together. Now, take Noah. He’s responsible, he’s organized and knowledgeable. He’s a great kid.”

  The silence hung in the air, loaded. We both knew what she was implying.

  Noah was a great kid. And I was not.

  9

  Noah