Beauty's Kiss (9 page)

Taylor lifted a brow. “But..?”

His big shoulders shifted. “But nothing. Trey had the best girl—the best thing—and he screwed it up.”

“Did you love McKenna, too?”

“Of course I love her. Everybody loves McKenna. She’s just... that… special, but if you’re asking if I was in love with her, that’s a no. She was always Trey’s girl. Always. I would never, ever go there. Trey’s my twin.”

“Can’t imagine two of you,” Taylor answered. “Does Trey really look just like you?”

“We’re identical, but we’ve never dressed alike, or played the twins card. We’ve always been so different. Trey was quite a bit older than McKenna so they only flirted in high school, and began dating once McKenna had graduated from Marietta High. McKenna’s brothers, Rory and Quinn, did not want their sister dating Trey. She was this sweet, good girl and he was the terrible, bad boy but they clicked.”

“Opposites attract,” Taylor said.

He nodded. “She made him better and he made her laugh, and when it was good between them, it was very good, but when it was bad, it was hell. I don’t know how many times they broke off, only to get back together before another bruising break up. They were broken up—apparently for good—when McKenna discovered she was pregnant. It took her a long time to take him back, and then it was magic. Trey proposed, she’d accepted, and they were planning a wedding when Trey got in trouble. Now he’s gone for a couple years.”

“He got in a bar fight?”

“Some guy was getting rough with his girl over at the Wolf Den and Trey got involved, threw a punch, and the other guy hit his head on a table as he fell. He later died. Trey was arrested, and sentenced to three to five years for involuntary manslaughter.”

Taylor didn’t know what to say.

Troy shrugged. “It’s bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.” Troy lifted a hand, flagged the waitress down. “It’s late. We should probably order.”

They steered away from personal topics while they ate, discussing the Ball for a bit, and then the Great Wedding Giveaway, before circling back to Taylor’s new job at the library.

“I love my job,” she said, answering Troy’s question. “And I love the building itself. The library has such a great history, built in the 1880’s as the third public building constructed during Marietta’s short-lived copper boom, and its handsome, with all those tall windows, the high ceilings, the marble foyer and staircase with hardwood floors on the first and second floors—” She took a breath. “But as it is now, it just feels old. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the library has a dusty, musty feel. And yet it’s clean, but it’s just not updated. Even the glass display cabinets are filled with displays that are ten years old.”

Troy smiled, enjoying how animated she’d become while talking about the library. She was certainly passionate about her job. “What would you do with the library, if you could?”

“Besides change those ancient displays?” she asked, smiling crookedly. “Well, for one, I’d make the library a true community center. I’d overhaul the electrical—new lights and outlets throughout so people could bring their laptops and study there. I also think that the smaller conference room on the second floor would be perfect for a little café or espresso stand.”

“Espresso at the library?”

Taylor nodded. “It’s happening at libraries, and can’t you just see how good it would be for moms? They could grab a coffee and have a little visit or read a magazine while their kids went to Story Time with Louise. I think Marietta teens and local college students would enjoy a coffee or snack while studying. But of course, Margaret, won’t hear of us changing a single thing, library, whether it’s one of her faded but ‘culturally relevant’ display cases, or those hollow antiquated private rooms on the second floor that go unused, unless one of the book groups meet in them.”

“This is how it all starts, you know.”

“What does?”

“Change. You have an idea, and you get excited and throw your weight behind it and before you know it, you’re in really deep and everyone else is wondering what the hell happened.”

“Is that what happened with you and your hotel?”

“Pretty much.”

“But isn’t that good? Look what you’ve given back to Marietta?”

“Not everyone here is happy about it. Not everyone likes change, even if it’s beneficial.”

“Why?”

“Because some people are afraid of change. They’re afraid it means they might have to grow and change, and that could be hard work.”

“Well, I’m not asking anyone to change. I just want to improve the library. I’d like to make the library a thriving community center. Why not let that gorgeous old building become the heart of the community? A library is more than books and quiet spaces. A library should inspire, enrich, and support both individual patrons and the community—” she broke off and bit into her lower lip. “Maybe I am asking for some change.”

He smiled, liking her more and more, as well as impressed by her spirit. Who would have thought that the pretty new librarian had such fire? “Good. And don’t ever apologize for wanting to do something here, or anywhere. We need people with passion and vision. I admire your enthusiasm. But can I offer you one piece of advice?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t fall in love with beautiful historic buildings in small towns.”

“No?”

“
No
. It’s a maddening love, and very expensive.”

She sat back in the boot, expression thoughtful. “I’ve wondered about that.”

“I’m sure everyone has.”

“So why did you do it?”

“The hotel is....” his voice drifted off and he stared off, picturing it as it was when he bought it—the boarded up windows, the ratty stained carpet covering the marble lobby, the holes in the walls and then that ballroom, the grand ballroom with its soaring ceiling and gilt trim, and the old library with its rich walnut paneling. He could feel the history in the abandoned building, set for demolition. He could picture the dances and the blushing brides and how stately even the old coatroom outside the ballroom must have been.

And he’d bought it on the spot.

For cash.

Because no one would loan him money for that eye sore. No one could see how it’d ever be restored and put back on the market without bleeding the investors dry.

And the hotel was bleeding him dry, but it was also beautiful now. A landmark. A Montana treasure. And he did feel good about that. He had done something right. Maybe not everyone would agree, or understand, but he remembered going to the Graff with his mother and brothers when he was young, just before it had closed, to see the Christmas tree in the big lobby, and have hot chocolate in the restaurant. They’d all dressed up, his mom and her four boys—Dillon wasn’t born yet—and Trey had been bored but Troy had been enthralled.

When he grew up, he’d live like this.

When he grew up, he’d give his mother a beautiful palace, just like this.

Troy suddenly became aware that Taylor was looking at him, and waiting, patiently for him to finish.

He looked into her face, and saw her eyes and her interest and she was interested in hearing what he had to say. Not because he was a Sheenan. Not because he was rich. But interested in what he thought, and felt.

What he knew.

Who he was.

Something inside him shifted. He felt some of the tension he’d been carrying around with him ease. He smiled wryly. “The hotel needed to be saved. It’s part of me and Marietta and it was supposed to be demolished. The building had been condemned, and I couldn’t let it happen. So I didn’t.”

Her gaze held his, her expression intent. “Do you regret saving it?”

“No.”

“Even if it... hurts you... financially?”

“Jane’s been talking.”

Taylor pursed her lips. She appeared to choose her words carefully. “The whole town’s been talking.”

“Not surprised. But I have good instincts. I think it’s going to be alright.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Because even if I have to sell it at some point, and even if I take a loss, I’ve still won. I’ve given something back to my hometown. I’ve created something that my children and grandchildren can enjoy. And that makes it all worth it.”

Taylor looked down at her plate, and blinked, fighting the most ridiculous urge to cry. Her eyes had burned and turned gritty as he’d talked about creating something for his children and grandchildren. She understood his love for old buildings and the past. She’d always been fascinated by old black and white photographs of Montana’s past. If she looked hard enough into one of those photographs she could imagine herself there...

“I wish I could have seen the Graff before you restored it,” she said. “But maybe it’s good that I didn’t. It would have made me sad.”

“She was too beautiful to be neglected like that,” he agreed.

For a long moment Taylor said nothing, her emotions turbulent, her thoughts whirling. She shouldn’t say what she was so tempted to say. She shouldn’t even be feeling what she’d been feeling all night.

She should get her purse and coat and go home right now.

Right now without saying a single thing about the Ball. Or maybe, possibly going to the Ball with him.

She couldn’t. She’d already told him no. She’d made up her mind. Taylor wasn’t flighty. At least, she’d never been flighty before...

Taylor swallowed hard and reached for her leather satchel. She needed to leave before she said something she might regret.

And yet her heart raced. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so torn.

“I’m glad we did this,” she said. “It was nice. Thank you.”

“I enjoyed it, too.”

She pulled the satchel onto her lap, and reached for her wallet.

He saw her open the wallet and shook his head. “I’ve got this.”

“It’s not a date,” she answered.

He smiled. “I know. But I can write it off. It’s probably harder for you.”

“That’s true. There is no budget at the library for meals or entertainment. Not even for technology.”

Troy placed several twenties on the table. “Which will change when Margaret’s gone in June.”

“I hope so.” Taylor glanced from the bills to Troy’s chest, where the snug Henley hit, just beneath his collarbone, exposing taut tone muscle and golden skin. He was obviously able to get some sun in California. Lucky man.

And then suddenly before she even knew she’d committed to the idea, she blurted, “Troy, I was thinking about the Ball.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve been working very hard on the committee.”

“I meant. I was thinking about...” Her voice faded. Her courage faded. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t put herself back out there. It was too embarrassing. And she shouldn’t be going to the Ball. She’d already told both Jane and Troy that. To change her mind now showed lack of stability and judgment. Besides, he might have already found a date.

That stopped her cold.

She studied him, taking in his straight nose, the high cheekbones and his firm mobile mouth quirking in a half-smile. He was so masculine and relaxed... so confident.

She was not.

She’d never had his self-assurance. “Were you able to find a date?” she asked, thinking it was one thing to talk books and technology and historical renovation with him. It was another to discuss... dates. “I was certain you would. Just wanted to be sure. I hate to think I’ve left you in the lurch.”

The corners of his lips curved higher. “Haven’t found another date yet, no.”

Her heart fell. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. I haven’t asked anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted to go with you.”

Her pulse jumped. “I see.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t, and Taylor almost kicked herself under the table for saying things she didn’t mean, because she didn’t see. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why Troy would want to go to the Ball with her. But somehow, between leaving the library and finishing her apple pie ala mode, she wanted to go to the Ball with Troy.

As friends, of course, she added hurriedly.

But she did want to go. She wanted to be part of the historic night and see the ballroom all lit up with pink lights and taste the chocolates and sip champagne...

And it would be fun to go, with him, provided it wasn’t romantic. Provided they were... just friends.

Taylor squeezed her satchel, thinking she was most definitely in over her head and yet she was going to press on, and just do this. Of course he could reject her. She fully expected a rejection any moment. “Troy, I was thinking--” her voice quavered, broke, courage once again stalling. She stared across the table at him, no longer certain of anything.