The Candlemaker (Kinkades #3)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Frankie

“I’m sorry. You’re doing what?” Lou gripped the edge of the desk like she was about to topple over.

Unfortunately, there weren’t really any seats in my brother Kit’s art gallery, so I didn’t have much choice but to let my sister know about this latest development while she was standing.

“I’m going to be staying at the inn all week to prove that it’s haunted,” I repeated casually, like staying in an abandoned building with a stranger was an everyday occurrence.

Her eyes blinked slowly several times, looking wider behind her round frames, before her thoughts finally slowed enough for a response to catch on her tongue.

“Why?”

“I told you, to prove it’s?—”

“Why do you need to prove it, Frankie?” she demanded, and I knew she was really upset. She never interrupted or demanded. “You said the rumors would be enough—that getting the whole town involved in your plan would work.”

I had said that. I’d been wrong.

The damn man had talked to everyone and their brother—well, not my brothers—but everyone else, and still, Bea had overheard him on the phone at the Maine Squeeze a few days ago, instructing one of his minions to set up a private tour between him and the buyer for this afternoon; he was trying to circumvent any interaction with anyone who could sway this mystery man, Fairfax, to walk away from the property.

“Well, that was before.”

“Before what?” She uncapped her water bottle and took a good swig.

“Before today.”

Her bottle slammed onto the counter. “What happened today?”

“Collins set up a meeting with this other offer at the inn.” I refused to say his name. Chandler. Chandler was the man I’d kissed. The one whose scent made my heart flutter and whose kiss turned my bones to mush. Collins was the jerk who only cared about a good deal.

“You didn’t…”

“I had to do something, Lou.” I waved a hand at her in frustration and then shoved it into the bag of gummy lobsters I’d been snacking on.

Her knuckles turned white. “What did you do?”

I chewed slowly and then swallowed with a shrug. “Brought a few candles over to the inn.”

“You trespassed?—”

“No, of course not.” I smiled. At least I could ease her mind about that. “I just set them up on the sidewalk and told the buyer I was performing a séance. ”

Lou whimpered and let her head drop into her hands. “He’s never going to take my offer, Frankie. Not after you?—”

I grabbed her wrists and yanked them down, forcing her to look at me. “He was never going to take your offer, Lou. Not with all your careful and conscientious dreams. Not with all your kindness and pleas. Not with all the history of what that inn means to this town.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly along with the rest of the cold, hard truth. “Chandler Collins doesn’t care that you’re the right person for the property. All he cares about is who is going to pay him the most money.”

“No,” my good-hearted sister protested; there was no one in the world who could believe in the good in a person like Elouise Kinkade.

“Yes.” My throat tightened, fighting down the words I knew were coming. I swore I wasn’t going to tell her this part—swore there would be no need. But as I stared into her hope-drenched eyes, I knew she’d never be convinced of the lengths I’d gone to if I didn’t. “Lou, the other offer… he’s going to tear down the inn.”

Her jaw dropped, and she made a sound like I’d just stabbed her in the chest. “No?—”

“He doesn’t want to save it; he wants to build condos.”

What the hell was it with the world that everyone just wanted to tear down everything that was old? Did no one want to preserve anything anymore? Did no one feel pride and satisfaction in taking what was tattered and forgotten and building it back up? Giving it a fresh purpose?

Twin tears ran down her cheeks, and the heartbreak on her face only strengthened my resolve. Screw you, Chandler Collins. You don’t want this inn, and you certainly don’t need the money.

“That’s why I told him I was doing a séance.” And a gravesite underneath the building. “It’s more than the offer now, Lou. It’s the building, this history, our town.”

She didn’t move for long moments, stilled by the shock of the news, but finally—thankfully—her chin lowered in a nod. She understood.

“I’m sorry.” I clasped her hands tight, releasing one when she went to wipe her cheek.

“So why do you have to stay there?” she asked quietly.

I straightened. “Well, they still didn’t believe me.”

“So, you offered to stay there?”

My lips parted, but the answer got stuck on the tip of my tongue.

“Frankie…”

“Collins said he was going to sleep at the inn to prove there weren’t any ghosts,” I blurted out, watching her eyes really grow wide this time. “I said that his…assessment couldn’t be trusted.”

“So, you offered to go instead?” She gaped, and I wished it were the truth.

“Not exactly. He dared me.”

“What?”

“Chandler— Collins. He said that since I was the expert, I would have to stay, too.” I shrugged and popped another gummy lobster into my mouth.

This time, I thought for sure Lou was going to lose it. That I was going to have to leap across the counter and hold her up from collapsing. But maybe I needed to start giving my twin a little more credit. She was shocked. Of course. But she didn’t waver.

“You’re staying in an abandoned inn with a stranger?” she asked in a choked whisper.

“It’s not like the building isn’t sound.” Before the whole musical chairs of ownership debacle, Mom, Lou, and Jamie’s wife, Violet, had a construction company come in and assess and then repair the foundation structure of the building. They’d just finished the repairs when we learned the inn wasn’t really ours.

“Frankie…”

“And he’s not a stranger.” Not the way I’d kissed him. But Lou didn’t need to know about that. Not when telling her meant having to explain why I hated that I wanted it to happen again.

“ Frankie.” Her shoulders slumped, and creases worried her brow. “It’s too much. This is too much. You don’t have to?—”

“Lou, I’m not going to let Collins swoop in and throw away centuries of history and a decent offer just to prove he’s a ruthless businessman.” Nor was I going to let butterflies from one kiss turn me soft on a man.

Sure, there were good men out there, my two brothers and two cousins were proof enough of that. And I knew life-changing love did exist. Again, my brothers’ relationships evidenced it. It wasn’t that I didn’t think there could be someone out there for me to love or to love me, I just didn’t want to.Not after what my father had done to Mom. Used her. Abandoned her. And after everything, she’d risen back up. Stronger. More successful.

But I wanted that from the start. Which was why I focused solely on my business and matchmaking for everyone else in my life. Because then, no one looked too closely at why the only flames I let into my life were the ones I created for myself.

“But it’s his property.”

I jammed my finger down on the counter. “And this is my town,” I said with a little more force than intended. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried, but I didn’t have a choice, Lou. I know you think I did, but I didn’t. And one day, I promise you, you’re going to end up in a situation where you only have a split second to decide how life—your future—is going to play out. There won’t be time to sit and think, to worry or rationalize. There will only be a single second to either go after what you want regardless of what you have to risk…or to let the dream go. ”

She chewed on her bottom lip, silent for a moment. “Well, I hope that day is far, far away for me.”

“Me too.”

Whenever it came, I knew my sister would act—would fight—no matter how strongly she thought she’d cower right now.

Lou tugged the bag of gummies across the counter and plucked one for herself. “So, Chandler is staying there to prove it’s not haunted, and you’re going to be there to show him it is.”

I wish she’d call him Collins, too.

“Yup.”

“How are you going to prove it’s haunted when it’s not?”

I frowned. That was the least of my problems right now. “I’ll figure something out.”

I had another six hours before I had to be back at the inn. Nine p.m. sharp. Maybe I could call Nox again. My cousin had been happy to borrow his brother’s truck and lend me a blockade earlier when I told him I needed traffic held up on Maine Street; it wasn’t like it affected anyone other than tourists passing through. And Chandler on his way to the meeting.

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay there…alone with him?”

My heart stumbled, and air knotted in my lungs. I knew this question was coming from the start, and still, I faltered on the answer. No, I wasn’t sure…but not in the way she meant. I’d agreed to six nights with Chandler Collins. Six nights alone withthe man whose kiss made me want things that I’d decided not to have an interest in long ago .

“I’ll be fine?—”

“Lou?”

Crap. We both turned toward our brother’s rasped voice, the bell at the front of the gallery chiming his arrival.

“I’ve got another—” Kit stopped short when he saw me. “Frankie.” His dark brows furrowed as they looked between Lou and me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I answered. Lou would never be convincing with the lie. “Just stopped in to say hi on my way back to my shop.”It was the truth. More or less. “But I should get going.”I looked back at Lou and smiled. “I’ll talk to you later.” What I was really saying was, please don’t say anything to Kit.

Kit would be upset and protective. He’d tell Jamie. Jamie would be furious and tyrannical. I’d never make it back to the inn tonight. Lou would lose her dream of the inn. And I would lose my chance to kiss Chandler Collins one more time.

It wasn’t the right thought to have, but it made sense. If I was going to kiss anyone— want to kiss anyone —Chandler was the perfect person.

Who safer to kiss than the man who was my enemy?

If stillness had a scent, it would’ve been the only one in the cool air wrapping around the inn. There were only a handful of people out on the sidewalk this late, one or two lingering glances spared in my direction. I smiled back like it was completely normal for someone to be standing on the sidewalk in lounge clothes, a camping backpack, and my pillow hugged to my chest.

A girl had to have her pillow.

Thankfully, my family had been otherwise occupied when I stopped back at Mom’s house to grab some of the camping gear tucked away in the basement. I hadn’t camped in a while, but I figured I wouldn’t need more than a sleeping bag, blanket, and pillow. Standing out there, though, I wondered if I should’ve brought two blankets.

“Come on…” I muttered and checked my phone.I was early on purpose. I wasn’t going to give the clever Mr. Collins any excuse to doubt my commitment to my cause.

With a sigh, I tipped my head back, staring up at the stars that pricked pinpoint holes in the fabric of the night sky. Another breath of stillness sent a shiver tumbling down my spine. Six nights. Six nights at the inn. With Chandler. For Lou.

Unless he was bluffing. It was nine o’clock. Ifhe was going to stand me up ? —

“Frankie.”

I spun and shivered—not from the cold this time. “Chandler.” I lifted my chin and leashed my smile to a minimum, but even there it faltered as my gaze swept over him.

Jeans. T-shirt. Zip-up jacket. My mouth parted. This was the first time I’d seen him without buttons. No button-up shirt. No unbuttoned shirt sleeves. No single-button suit jacket. He almost looked…relaxed. And it was like seeing Superman without his cape. Chandler’s no hero, I reminded myself. So maybe it was more like seeing the devil without his horns.

He stepped closer, my pillow thankfully disguising the sudden hitch in my breath when his chest was close enough to brush my arms if either of us breathed too deep. Sandalwood and cloves sank their seductive claws into my chest. Maybe I should make a Chandler candle. Not to remember his scent—never that—but to desensitize myself to the instant ache it seemed to create.

“I see you’re prepared.” His stare prickled my skin, dotting it like the night sky with thousands of pinpoints of heat .

Me? “Of course.” I clutched my pillow tighter. “I’m always ready.”

I was about to ask if he’d changed his mind—ignoring the unexpected twinge and deflation of my chest at the thought—when he turned to the gate. That was why he stood so close. With a gulp, I stepped back so he could fit the key into the lock.

“I’m sure,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped through and held the gate open for me.

It wasn’t until I walked through and glanced over my shoulder that it struck me that he wasn’t prepared. He had no…stuff. No bag. No clothes. No pillow.

The urge to ask made it to the tip of my tongue before I clamped my jaw shut and swallowed it back down. If he planned on sleeping in his clothes on the old hardwood floor, that was his problem. I was going to be as snug as a bug.

I followed his lead to the front door, my eyes darting around as he unlocked what looked like a shiny new deadbolt installed on the door. I bit back my smile. As long as he hadn’t replaced the faulty latch on the back window in the kitchen, he could install whatever locks on the doors he wanted.

“Should I knock before we go in? I wouldn’t want to upset any of the ghosts,” he taunted.

“You don’t believe there are ghosts, so why should you care about upsetting them?” I countered sweetly. “Unless you’re worried I’m right, and it is haunted.”

His eyes flashed, and then he swung the door wide. No knock then.

Again, he held the door open for me, tension rippling through his body like it pained him to be a gentleman. Good, it pained me too.

I stopped just inside, the shadows painting a familiar picture of the wide entrance hall, the staircase tucked on the right that led up to the second floor, the long living room on the right. Walking straight down the hall led to the dining room and then the kitchen at the back of the house. I closed my eyes, a different scent filling my lungs—a scent of history that only dust and must and all the boarded-up secrets of the inn could create.

“Sensing the spirits?” His deep voice interrupted my thoughts. My eyes flung open just as the door closed and engulfed us in darkness.

I heard my sharp inhale as I scrambled for my phone and the flashlight on it, but then fresh light spilled through the space.

Chandler’s heavy footfalls carried him in front of me, the floor creaking like it was waking up to the notion of having the weight of guests traipsing over it once more. The light ebbed and flowed from a camping lantern held by his side, its warm glow oozing around him like he was the flame himself.

“I never claimed to sense spirits, Mr. Collins. Only that they were here.”

He made a low noise and headed for the living room. Crap. I was hoping he’d pick one of the rooms upstairs; it would make sneaking in and out of the kitchen window a little easier.

I hadn’t exactly figured out a plan on how I was going to effectively haunt the inn. Between preparing to tell Lou what was happening while concealing it from our brothers, figuring out what I needed from Mom’s house to stay here, and avoiding all thoughts of entire nights alone with Chandler Collins, I hadn’t made it to the ghost part of this plan yet.

That was for tomorrow. There had to be YouTube videos on how to do this. How to Haunt 101 or Ghosting for Dummies.

“Frankie.”

I stopped, having taken a few steps toward the staircase.

“Where are you going? ”

“To find a room upstairs if you’re taking the living room?—”

“You’re not staying upstairs.”

And who are you who gets to tell me where I am or am not? I swallowed down my bluster of pride. He was the obstacle I had to appease if there was any chance of my sister getting this inn.

“Okay.” I forced a smile. “I’ll stay in the dining?—”

“We’re both sleeping in the living room.”

Both of us? In the same room? In the stillness of massive space, I swore he could hear the sound of my heart plummeting into my stomach because I certainly could.

It wasn’t even my plan that was the first worry that came to my mind. It wasn’t how exponentially more difficult it would be for me to sneak around and do whatever it was going to take to haunt this place. All of that should’ve been my first thought, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the second or third thought. All of those rungs were taken up by the idea of spending six nights not in the same inn, but in the same room as the man I really wanted to kiss again.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I stammered.

“Miss Kinkade”— we were back to formalities— “if you think I’m going to let you hole yourself off in a secluded corner of this building where you can concoct God knows what to try and prove it’s haunted, then you must think I’m an idiot,” he drawled with a casual smile.

I stilled. Obviously, he didn’t believe it was haunted, but for him to think—to know—the lengths I’d go and call me out on it within minutes of the first night of this charade…if that was how he wanted to play this, fine.

Challenge accepted.

My fingers curled into my pillow like it was a shield of steel as I approached him. “And if I think you just want me in the living room so you can try and kiss me again? ”

His smile fell, deflated by the sharp pulse of frustration in his jaw. My victory was short-lived, the barb, double-sided.

“Don’t worry, Miss Kinkade. I never mix business with pleasure.”He motioned to the doorway, the lantern light treading over the threshold.

Liar. He knew who I was at dinner when he’d kissed me. He knew and kissed me anyway. A small voice inside my head reminded me, You knew and kissed him back.

Dammit.

“Oh?” I feigned innocence and moved right in front of him, letting my eyes swing lazily down and back up his body. “Well then, I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed. Up close, in the harsh light from the lantern, he somehow managed to look more handsome. The way the shadows cut sharpened the ridge of his brow. The straight line of his nose. The edge of his tensed jaw.

“Sorry for what?”

My smile widened. “If you don’t mix business with pleasure and you’re always doing business, then…well…” I let my eyes lower down to his waist, the harsh shadows of the lantern making it impossible to see anything except the point I was making. “Muscles atrophy when they don’t get used.”