Secrets Collide (Bluegrass Brothers)

guests that kept the money flowing—guests that could appreciate the island’s quirky nature.
    She’d just have to make sure she held onto the reins. There was more at stake than just the inn or her job.
    Checking the time, she went to the front desk and grabbed the keys to the van, hoping that the drive into town would help clear her head. “I’ll go grab the next group of visitors coming in on the ferry.”
    Logan gave her a small frown, his blue eyes filled with worry, though handsome as he was, he even made devastation look good. He stepped away from the front counter where’d he’d been dealing with some paperwork, and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “I just heard. I’m really sorry, Riley. But it could be good, right?”
    She managed a smile, knowing it was important to stay positive for the troops. Slipping out of the comfort of his arms, she did her best to push her concerns and apprehensions aside. “Exactly. Everything will work out fine. And just think of all the things we can do if we have a bit of money coming in. Might finally be able to give the rooms that remodel we’ve been dreaming of.”
    She’d have to make it work. Failure wasn’t an option—not when there was so much on the line. She’d put far too much of herself into the inn to have it all go to hell. And if Holt Enterprises thought they could just come in and bulldoze everything she’d worked so hard to build and care for, then they had better get ready for a fight.
    Stay positive , she reminded herself. It didn’t have to be all doom and gloom. Holt might only make a few changes while providing a good infusion of much-needed cash to remodel the place.
    With new plans and ideas running through her head, Riley drove the van down to the center of town, taking in the late summer sun and the bustling shops as she made her way to the port. It really was a special place, the brightly colored shingled cottages playing up against the blue sky and sea, while riots of flowers poured out of window boxes. She pulled up by the landing just as the ferry docked and started to unload its passengers. Perfect timing.
    There were two ways to get to Mermaid Isle. There was a ferry that left Portland and was convenient for those guests coming from Boston or other points south, and then there was a bridge that connected the island to the mainland an hour north of Portland. During the summer, most opted for the ferry. Some even brought their cars, though most made do with the hotel’s bikes or rented a scooter from a shop in town. But in the winter time, Riley usually recommended the bridge since the winter seas could be rough and unpredictable, and service was limited.
    With the hotel’s name emblazoned on the side of the van, she waited for her group to arrive, clipboard in hand. One newlywed couple, three writers who’d signed up for their Romancing the Isle writer’s workshop, and two other individuals who had booked separately. Watching the crowds come in off the ferry, Riley knew there would be a fair number of people who would day-trip it, and take the evening ferry home, but it was the ones who stayed, even just a night or two, who usually came back time and again.
    A group of women, ranging from their forties to sixties, laughed and chatted their way off the boat and wandered over, wide-brimmed straw hats atop each head and sundresses flowing in the summer breeze. Her romance writers—the ones who had been to the inn previously and decided to add a few days to their workshop by coming early. “Welcome to Mermaid Isle. Jan, Pat, Diane—so nice to see you again.”
    One after another, the trio gave her a big hug. Pat took the lead. “Not a chance in hell we’d miss this workshop. And I hope you still have that cutie, Logan, working for you. He’s the inspiration for my next hero. Tall, dark hair, those blue eyes—not to mention that build.”
    Jan nudged her friend. “You haven’t stopped talking about him since we were last here. Riley, you best warn the poor man. This one here’s up to no good. She’ll be dropping things left and right just to get him to bend over and pick them up.”
    Riley had to smile, her worries drifting away on the women’s laughter. She leaned over for a mock whisper. “Well, he does have a nice butt, but don’t tell him I said so or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
    “I don’t know what you’re waiting for, honey. If it were me, I’d be trying out a new scene every