Nothing happened.
She pressed it again and waited. The inn was quiet, so she should’ve been able to hear the machine come to life, yet it sounded like the system wasn’t even on. She pushed the small button harder.
Nothing.
Sweat dripped down her face, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She looked around the utility room—for what, she wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure about was that the unit wasn’t working. She would have to talk to Bowie or his assistant to figure out why, or she could just order a new one. Nope, she couldn’t. She had promised Carly that she would confer with Bowie on everything, even though that was never her style.
She gave up and went back into the main part of the inn. She’d act like an adult, and when Bowie arrived, she’d ask him to look at it, which she hoped would be soon because it was hot outside and inside, and she was starting to get cranky.
Brooklyn wasn’t watching where she was going when she came around the corner. “Oof,” her body exhaled, and she started tumbling backward. Strong hands caught her and pulled her safely into their arms, cocooning her. Her nose hit the man’s chest, and as she caught her breath, she inhaled deeply. Her savior smelled of Irish Spring and clean linen. There was only one person she knew who used that brand of soap. She stepped back and slowly lifted her head to see if she was right.
“Are you okay?” Bowie asked, his voice husky; his hands remained where they were, touching her arms. Their eyes locked, blue upon blue, staring into each other’s souls.
She felt the back of his fingers brush against her cheek. Her head tilted, pushing into his touch. Bowie smiled. She started to grin as well until she remembered where they were and what they meant to each other. It took her a moment to regain her composure. They were close, too close for her liking, and she needed space. She stepped back, far enough away that he couldn’t touch her.
“B?” He used her nickname, one that only her parents usually called her.
“The air conditioner isn’t working.” She changed the subject as fast as she could. She was good at avoidance. Ignoring the elephant in the room was her specialty.
“Let’s go take a look.” Bowie motioned for her to lead the way. She felt self-conscious with him following behind her even though he had done it a million times before.
She led him through the utility door. “Don’t let it shut; it tends to stick,” she said from over her shoulder.
“I remember.”
She should’ve remembered that Bowie knew. For years, she had blocked everything about Cape Harbor out, and now that she was back, she wanted to remember everything. All the good, while leaving the bad locked away. Bowie was part of it all.
She pressed the button and waited for the unit to come to life; this time it did. A look of irritation spread across her face until the machine started shaking, as if it were coming alive. Bowie stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever that contraption was doing. The unit popped, and she shrieked.
“What the hell?”
“My guess, it’s old and hasn’t been on in fifteen years.”
Brooklyn sidestepped Bowie, waving her hand in front of her face to push the smoke away. “Perfect. Definitely an item we didn’t budget for.”
“I think the newer systems are more energy efficient. I’ll make some calls and see what we can get.”
She sighed. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell upon them. They would look at each other and then away, only to turn back. They were playing a cat-and-mouse game, and she had no idea which part she was supposed to be. She closed her eyes, and as she did, she felt him behind her. It had taken her years to forget him, to get over the way he had always been by her side, to not yearn for the way he had always known just what she needed. And now he was standing behind her, and she was desperate for him to hold her like he used to. Yet, she wanted to keep him at arm’s length because she didn’t want to hurt him.
Her pulse quickened, and in the silent, smoke-filled room, she was sure he could hear her heart beating rapidly. His hand touched her hip, and his other one rested on her shoulder. He moved closer. She could feel his chest against her back. What she wouldn’t give to fall into his arms, to feel him hold her, kiss her, love her.
She stepped away from him and went to the door, tugging on the knob, only the door didn’t budge. She could have sworn she had told Bowie to make sure it didn’t close. She twisted the knob, only for it to spin in her hands. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she said through gritted teeth.