Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) (16 page)

Holly blinked, looking a little startled. “Um, okay, if you’re off duty then.”

“I’m not, but I’m not chained to my cruiser.” He tapped the small radio unit attached to his shoulder.

“So, Ryan’s over on Long?” he asked.

“Kayaked over. Dude must be aiming for the Olympic team,” Morgan said.

Micah shook his head. “Man, he really loves that little thing, doesn’t he? I can’t see the attraction myself. I’ll take my big powerboat any day.”

“Ryan says paddling keeps him in shape both physically and mentally,” Morgan said. “I get what he means too. He’s been giving me a few lessons, and I love it.”

And looking at his gorgeous, half-naked self isn’t too hard to take either.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be enjoying that particular benefit for much longer.

R
yan stared at the ceiling, cursing the fact that he couldn’t sleep despite the long paddle this afternoon. After dinner with the ladies, he’d also gone for a walk along the beach to stretch his muscles before heading upstairs to his room to read until he dozed off.

That had been more than three hours ago, and his mind continued to twist and roll like a giant roller coaster. It was almost August, and Labor Day wouldn’t be long in coming. Decisions would have to be made soon enough—decisions keeping him awake tonight.

Like, what the hell was he going to do with the rest of his life?

At nearly two in the morning, the big old house rested silently about him. The only sound Ryan heard was the faint, rhythmic hiss of the ocean waves as they broke on the beach below the inn and slapped against the pilings of the dock. The noise should have propelled him toward sleep, but so far it hadn’t. Frustrated, Ryan threw off the light quilt and slid out of bed. He’d slip downstairs, grab a glass of ice water, then come back and read some more
in the cushioned rocking chair. Maybe that would finally do the trick.

He didn’t bother to put anything on over his T-shirt and boxers. No one was up now because he’d have heard—the walls of the old house could barely stop a whisper. As he opened his door, he looked at Morgan’s directly across the hall. She’d moved into that room so Holly could have her bedroom in the annex.

And yeah, he’d already fantasized about softly opening Morgan’s door and slipping into bed with her.

He suspected that was one of the things keeping him up tonight—pretty much literally—as thoughts of her took over his imagination. What would she be wearing? Flannel pajamas? A camisole and little lace panties, or an oversized T-shirt? Even in PJs, she’d be sexy as hell. He’d love to strip her naked before kissing every inch of her soft, golden skin and taking it from there. The fact that they’d have to do it all in silence would make it even more interesting.

He turned down the hallway toward the stairs, moving carefully to avoid making any more noise than necessary on the creaky pine floorboards. When he grabbed the newel post to swing down onto the staircase, it hit him, stopping him dead.

Smoke.

Was it coming from outside? There were occasional tree fires on undeveloped parts of Seashell Bay. Not that a blaze in one of the island’s forested areas was welcome, but they rarely caused damage to homes or property. He hoped to God that was the origin of the odor.

He glanced toward the window at the end of the hallway. The casement was open a couple of inches. Maybe he could smell it from there.

He swung around, all his senses on full alert. He didn’t get far down the hallway before it became sickeningly clear that the smell was not outside. It was above him and was growing stronger. Stopping under the attic hatch, Ryan stretched up with his right arm to see if the wood was warm to the touch. Before his hand reached the surface, he saw smoke starting to squeeze through the gaps around the door.

Fuck. Fire in the attic.

His gut twisted at the thought of all the old wiring in the house, wiring he’d known needed to be replaced.

The hallway smoke detector should be going off in seconds. Wisps of smoke were already filtering toward it along the ceiling. His instinct was to yank down the hatch and climb up the ladder to take a look, thinking the fire might still be containable.

When he gingerly touched the hatch door, it was already hot. And now smoke had started to seep out in a steady stream. He was pretty sure there was no time to run down to the kitchen and race back up with the fire extinguisher. By the time he got up into the attic, smoke could be thick enough to kill people, and he couldn’t take that risk—and sure as hell not one in a wood-frame building where ten people were sleeping. The fact that there was a young woman on crutches and an elderly guest who wobbled with practically every step made any risk taking out of the question.

The alarm started to beep.

Get moving!

“Fire! Fire! Everybody up and out!” Ryan yelled as he started to pound on the doors of the rooms that were occupied by guests. He gave each door a couple of sharp
knocks before he reached Morgan’s at the end of the hallway. He hammered once and threw it open. “There’s a fire in the attic and a lot of smoke already up here. We’ve got to get everybody out right now.”

Morgan, looking disoriented, was feeling around for her robe on the bed. “A fire? In the attic?”

“Let’s go!” he barked.

She rolled out of bed and shoved her feet into a pair of Crocs, in the process answering Ryan’s earlier question. She’d been sleeping in a pink sleeveless T-shirt and lacy white panties that were not much more than a scrap of fabric.

Ryan tore his eyes away. “Can you take care of the guests? I’m going down to get Holly and Sabrina. I’ll come back up as soon as Holly’s safe.”

“I’ve got it, Ryan. Go!” she ordered as she flung her robe on. He could tell she was scared as hell, but he didn’t have time to reassure her.

In the hallway, the smoke was already heavy near the ceiling and sinking fast.

Morgan rushed out and called after him. “Don’t worry about Sabrina—she can take care of herself.” She was punching numbers into her phone. “I’ll call 911, and I’ll make sure everybody up here gets outside.”

Ryan was relieved to see she’d pulled herself together so fast. He turned and raced for the stairs. A couple of guests had now poked their heads out their doors. “Please get downstairs and outside now,” he shouted at them. “Don’t dress or try to gather up belongings. There’s no time.”

“Don’t you have a damn fire extinguisher?” Frank Bairstow growled from the door of the room next to Ryan’s.
“Get me one, and I’ll go up there and douse the damn thing!”

“Frank, the fire department is on the way,” Morgan yelled. “Please, everyone, head downstairs as fast as you can, and stay well away from the building.”

Ryan hesitated at the top of the stairs. He wanted to get down to Holly fast, but would Morgan be able to handle the belligerent old guy who apparently figured he could take care of the fire single-handedly?

“Ryan, go get Holly,” Morgan said, giving him a little push. “I’ve got this.”

The steel in her voice told Ryan she did. He flew down the staircase, barely touching the steps, and raced through the kitchen into the annex to Morgan’s bedroom. The door was open, and Holly was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, looking slender and frail in her thin nightgown. Sabrina was trying to maneuver the wheelchair into a position where Holly could slide off the bed into it.

“I’ve got her, Sabrina,” Ryan said, reaching for Holly. “Just bring the wheelchair, okay?”

He had to give Morgan’s sister props. Instead of coming upstairs to see what the commotion was all about, she’d wisely decided to get Holly safely out of the house.

“What’s happening up there?” Sabrina’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Holly. She was wearing a navy T-shirt and white sleep shorts plastered with little red hearts, and she looked scared to death.

Ryan scooped Holly up in his arms. Though she was tall, her slender frame carried no more than a hundred twenty-five pounds, and Ryan barely felt her weight. “There’s a fire in the attic and a lot of smoke upstairs. Morgan’s called the fire department.”

Holly gasped. “How did it start?”

“Maybe the wiring. It’s old.” Ryan angled her through the narrow door, across the kitchen, and out into the graveled parking area. Sabrina followed close behind, squeezing the wheelchair out the screen door.

As Ryan gently lowered Holly into the chair, Sabrina groaned. “Oh my God. Look at the smoke coming out that upstairs window.”

Ryan glanced up. Smoke was billowing out the second-floor window at the end of the hallway. His insides torqued as he thought of Morgan up there trying to wrangle the guests all by herself. “Sabrina, I’m going back inside. Stay with Holly, okay?”

“Hurry!” Sabrina said tearfully. “Please don’t let anything happen to Morgan.”

Ryan told himself that Morgan was strong and smart and brave, so she’d be fine. Maudie and Morry Granger, however, were a different story. They were in their late seventies, and Morry was seriously overweight and arthritic while Maudie suffered from balance problems that had been giving her on-and-off trouble walking, even with her cane.

“The Bairstows are out!” Sabrina said, pointing a finger toward the front of the house. Pugnacious Frank and his wife Maureen had emerged and were hurrying around the side of the house toward them.

“Two guests down, four to go,” Ryan growled. He rushed back in through the same door.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since Ryan barged into Morgan’s room and scared her half to death, but she needed to get the Grangers outside before they collapsed
from smoke inhalation. The Bairstows had already gone down to safety, and the gay married couple from Toronto—Owen and Nolan—had emerged from their room a second time, now dressed in T-shirts and sweat pants and clutching computers under their arms. Morgan knew those two fit thirtysomethings could take care of themselves, so she focused her full attention on the older couple.

Outside the Grangers’ room, the closest one to the attic hatch, the smoke was so heavy and acrid that Maudie was choking as Morgan slipped her arm around the elderly woman’s waist. Morry struggled to support his wife on the opposite side. Morgan wished she were strong enough to lift Maudie in a fireman’s carry and lug her to safety, but the woman weighed at least fifty pounds more than she did. Morry was in no shape to help much either, though he was trying mightily to do as Morgan directed.

Even in the chaos of the smoke, the heat, and Maudie’s gasping behind her husband’s handkerchief, Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about how this disaster could have happened. Maybe it was the ancient wiring Ryan had warned her about. In any case, the fire was on her. Her obsession with getting things done on the cheap had probably caused this catastrophe.

She gave herself a mental slap. There would be time for self-recrimination later. The fire chief would be able to tell her what caused the blaze, and in the end, it didn’t much matter what started it anyway. All that truly mattered was getting people out alive.

But she wanted to burst into tears that her father’s beloved inn was probably entering its death throes.

“Morry, get my purse,” Maudie cried as Morgan and
her husband shuffled her toward the stairs. “It’s on the dresser.”

“No way,” Morry grunted. His bald head was streaming sweat. “The damn roof could fall down on us any second. To hell with the purse, Maudie. You’re all that counts. Everything else can be replaced.”

Maudie managed a smile at her husband. “Thank you, dear heart.”

Morgan felt like she was in a walking nightmare, with her heart racing and her airways already burning from smoke. But her sick feeling was eased by the moment of tenderness between the Grangers. Morry might be an out-of-shape, grumpy old guy, but he was a hero in Morgan’s book.

By the time they reached the second step down, Ryan was already bounding up the stairs, three at a time. The smoke was thick enough that Morgan thought he might barrel into her before he grabbed the banister and jerked to a stop.

“Ma’am, can I carry you down?” Ryan had obviously assessed the situation instantly. “It’ll be a lot faster that way and safer too.”

“Yes, yes. Take her, Ryan,” Morry said, coughing. “Get her out of here.”

Ryan carefully eased Maudie over his shoulder, clutching her thighs after making sure her flannel nightgown was pulled down past her knees. All Morgan could feel at that moment was overwhelming relief that Ryan was here. Holly and Sabrina must be safe, and now he was making sure the Grangers would get out too. The inn might wind up burning to the ground, but Ryan had saved them all.

What am I going to do without him?

She shoved that desperate thought aside, summoning up all her energy as she put her arm back around Morry’s waist.

He surprised her by pushing away. “I’m fine, Morgan. I can do this.”

Morgan wasn’t so sure. She stuck close to him, her hand gripping his arm as they descended together. By the time they made it three more steps down, Ryan and Maudie had already disappeared out the wide-open front door. Morgan could barely see with her stinging, watery eyes, and Morry coughed and hacked every step of the way until they were finally outside. With Ryan’s help, he slowly folded himself down onto the grass right next to Maudie, where he put his fleshy arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

Blinking her eyes clear, Morgan rushed over to Holly, who was clutching the arms of her wheelchair with white fingers. Sabrina was rigid beside her as she stared up at the house with a look of abject horror on her ashen face. When Morgan followed her sister’s gaze, her stomach dived at the sight of huge billows of black smoke pouring out the gable vents on either end of the house. Though the fire hadn’t yet burned through the attic floor when she was inside, Morgan knew it might not be long before flames penetrated down and set the entire old structure ablaze.

Tears streamed down Sabrina’s cheeks. “This can’t be happening, Morgan. Not after Daddy. Not after everything we’ve gone through.”

Morgan hugged her sister. “We’re going to be okay, sweetie. We’re together, and that’s all that really matters.”

On the other side, Holly grabbed Morgan’s hand and squeezed. “At least everyone’s safe,” she said. “And Sabrina was a real hero, helping Ryan get me out.”

Morgan smiled at her friend, blinking back tears as she held on to her sister.

While Sabrina would have been able to help Holly to safety, and she and Morry might have been able to get Maudie out in time, Morgan knew it would have been a very close thing. That was brutally, sickeningly clear to her, especially now as she looked again at the volume of black smoke pouring out of the house. “I’m just thankful Ryan was here. I don’t know what we would have done without him.”

She clamped down hard on semi-hysterical tears. She would
not
lose it in front of Holly or her guests, or her poor sister. People would be counting on her to cope, to take care of them, to find them somewhere to go. She had to turn her mind to that and fast, even as she struggled to comprehend the enormity of what was happening to the inn. The Grangers would be all right. Morry’s cousin, Andrew, could take them in temporarily at his house near Paradise Point. But vacationers like Owen and Nolan and the Bairstows had nowhere to go at this hour. Morgan would have to ensure they had somewhere to sleep, at least for tonight.