sometimes following you dreams means breaking your heart Read online




  Copyright © 2018 by Claire Gough

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN-13: 978-1514290934 (paperback)

  ISBN-10: 1514290936 (paperback)

  Cover art by Hart and Bailey.

  Formatting by Erica Alexander at Serendipity Formats.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Driftwood Playlist

  About the Author

  I’d like to dedicate this book to my number one fan.

  The one person who loves this book

  almost as much as I do, if not more.

  Thank you for your never ending support,

  and your faith in me.

  This one's for you, my lil Anne.

  “Tourists,” I mumble under my breath, rolling my eyes at the two guys in front of me, who giggle as they count out pennies onto the counter in front of the cashier. I crane my neck to see what they’re buying. A boob cap…a cheap cap with a pair of boobs on it. That’s the main factor that points them out as tourists. People who live in Blackpool don’t tend to buy tacky boob caps.

  They laugh and bump shoulders.

  “Come on, Brad!” the taller one with the worn black leather jacket barks, bumping into his friend again. His voice shocks me. It’s very prim and proper for what I’m used to hearing up here. “Maybe I should just leave it,” the shorter guy says, still smirking as he looks up at the straight face of the cashier.

  “No, we aren’t leaving it. Jason needs this hat in his life.” He slaps his friend on the back as they both laugh. The cashier rolls her eyes, not seeing the funny side of this at all. Honestly, neither do I.

  “Sorry about this,” the taller guy turns and says to me. He starts to turn back to his friend, then looks back at me. “Hey.” He grins. It’s a grin that probably usually floors a girl…and he knows it.

  I roll my eyes and look away, trying to pretend his crooked smile isn’t sexy as hell, but it seriously is. I look anywhere but at him, hoping he turns away before he sees the blush rising to my cheeks.

  “Here.”

  I hear his voice again. I turn back to him. Luckily, he isn’t talking to me this time. He’s counting coins with his friend.

  “£3.99. There!” the shorter guy almost yells, victorious.

  “Come on, Brad. We’d better leave. We’re upsetting the locals,” the tall guy says, looking at me the whole time. The crooked grin spreads across his face yet again as he breezes past me. I hate that my heartbeat just went up two notches. His friend looks at me as he passes, boob hat in hand. Once they disappear out the glass doors, the two of them instantly burst into laughter.

  “Can I help you?” The cashier brings me back to reality. Unfortunately, my reality is that my heart hasn’t had a workout like that in years.

  “Ooh, half-eight. Aren’t we rock ‘n roll?” Bee jokes as she leans against the steering wheel, her jet-black hair falling over it as she giggles. Because parking down our road is a nightmare, and since there’s so little traffic, we just sit in Bee’s car right outside The Driftwood.

  A night out with my best friend was just what I needed, especially on a Thursday night when I’ve done nothing but bookwork all day. Lovely or not, though, I told Bee I was tired and needed to get home because of my early start. In reality, I just don’t want the guests who are coming in to disturb my aunt, Jill, and her partner, Alistair. I run the guest house, The Driftwood, during the week, and I take my responsibility seriously...very seriously.

  “Sorry I’m killing the night early. You’re welcome to come in and have a drink in the bar, though. I think I can stay awake while you have one more.” I nod towards the cream coloured guest house building.

  “Tempting, but as much as I love your aunt Jill, I don’t know how many times I can cope with her calling me Bailey in one day.” Her ruby-red lips turn up into a grin. That’s her trademark. She never goes anywhere without her red lipstick on.

  I smile. She’s right. She did have to ring the landline this afternoon, which meant talking to my aunt. God bless Jill, but she refuses to call anyone by a nickname. She will only use the name they were given, and Bailey hates hers, which is why I call her Bee.

  Bee ringing the landline is becoming a regular thing to get me out of the B&B. My aunt and Bee know all too well how I would rather stay in and care for guests.

  I get out of the car and wave to Bee as I walk up the three concrete steps of The Driftwood. I smile at the memory of me falling up them as a kid. I must have been about three or four. I hit my nose on the top step, making it bleed. Mom shouted at my dad for not watching me. It’s weird to smile at the memory of your nose colliding with concrete, but it’s one of the very few memories I have left from my childhood. I treasure it.

  I walk into the guest house and am greeted by the distinct smell of The Driftwood, which comes from the air freshener in the lobby. It smells like warm spices. Jill says it makes guests feel like they’re at home. Well, it certainly works on me.

  I hear the sound of a TV coming from our living quarters downstairs. I quickly make my way to the bar and pull out the key drawer. It's still there. That means the guests scheduled to check in tonight haven’t arrived yet. Good. Jill and Alistair can rest. Both have part-time jobs, which is why I like to take the pressure of running The Driftwood off them. It’s the only job I’ve ever had and I love it. I was sixteen when Jill entrusted me with my first weekend job here. I’m twenty-seven now and haven’t looked back.

  “Hey! I’m back. I’ll take care of the guests,” I shout through the open door. I hear quiet voices mumbling before Alistair answers.

  “Okay, if you’re sure…”

  I smile, shaking my head as I walk back around the bar. We only have three lagers on draft, along with a fridge stocked with bottled beers, ales, ciders, and a couple bottles of wine. The optic behind me has your main spirits—vodka, rum, gin, and whiskey. We also have other speciality drinks, such as Baileys, Drambuie, and Tia Maria. It’s not a huge bar, but it serves its purpose for our eight-bedroom guest house.

  I open the drawer under the bar and retrieve the paperwork for the guests tonight. I read it over and place it to the side, ready for their arrival. I grab the remote and stretch out on the window seat that runs the whole length of the rounded front window. I turn on the TV, which hangs on a bracket on the wall, then pull my knees to my chest and rest my head against the glass. I look down the road at the sea. It’s nearing the end of July, so even though it’s almost nine at night, there’s still light. The water shimmers, reflecting the orange sun. It’s beautiful, and I am so proud to live here.

  My head resting on the glass, I glance around the room. I look through the dark kitchen door with its brightly coloured beaded curtain to the left of the pine
bar, a mirrored wall behind the drinks. Around the room are two-seater tables in the same pine colour, all neatly covered with white tablecloths, ready for tomorrow morning. I often wonder what it must be like to live in a real house, not a B&B. What it must feel like to have a normal life, a normal family. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t change a thing. I love my life. I love living here. Given the chance, I’m not sure I’d change it…even all the bad parts that got me here.

  I pick up one of the green-and-terracotta cushions, the same light green as the carpet, and study it, looking at it like it’s the first time I’ve seen it…or maybe the last. I smile and sigh, tears stinging my eyes. I remember the day we bought these cushions.

  Jill came to me not long after my 19th birthday and told me we needed a girls’ day out. She wanted to buy new things for the rooms and felt like she needed a younger perspective. The truth was I had yet another breakup with yet another guy, whose name I can’t even remember now. Another guy who couldn’t handle me wanting to work at a guest house every single night. She could tell I wasn’t myself, so to cheer me up, she asked for my input on the décor. I loved that day.

  I hold the cushion to my nose and sniff deeply. I’m going to miss that smell…

  “Oh, my god...,” I groan. I know I’m being pathetic, but I can’t help it. I am such a wimp.

  I can’t do this on my own. I’ve been ready to do this for months, but what have I accomplished? Nothing! I need help. I grab my phone out of my pocket and text Bailey. If I’m not confident enough to do this on my own, I’m sure she can help. God knows, Bee has enough confidence for everyone. I’m sure she can share some of it.

  I start typing, but before I can finish my text, the doorbell rings. I don’t know whether I’m gutted I got interrupted or glad the bell stopped me.

  You’re a wimp, Alexis!

  “Showtime,” I mumble as I stand, sliding my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. For me, this is the best part of running a B&B. The people you meet, showing them around, watching them soak in everything. I smooth down my black jersey top, then walk to the door.

  All I see through the frosted glass is a boob cap. Putting my best smile in place, I open the door.

  “Hello. Welcome to The Driftwood,” I say, surveying the scene in front of me.

  Four guys, all about my age, stand there. One in front wears the boob cap, but his expression says he isn’t too happy about it. His friend next to him has his hand on his shoulder, laughing at something, probably boob hat’s expression or…

  Oh god.

  I’m greeted with a familiar, crooked grin. “Hey,” he says in that same posh accent. I must be imagining this. My heart rate tells me I’m not.

  “Wait. You’re the guests I’m waiting for?” I know it’s a stupid question, but I can’t stop myself from asking it.

  “Booking under the name of Cole,” Mr. Crooked Smile says, the grin still firmly in place. I feel the need to check my papers, but I already know that’s the name on the booking. I checked it not even twenty minutes ago.

  “Right this way.” I stand aside to let them in.

  They walk into the foyer area. Three of them walk around, taking everything in…except Mr. Crooked Smile. He stands right in front of me, smile still in place. His eyes meet mine. They are a gorgeous dark brown that I want to melt in.

  Wow! Did it just get warm in here or what?

  “Allow me introduce myself properly this time,” he says. That posh accent makes my knees unsteady. “I'm Fin.” He runs his hand through his dishevelled chestnut-brown hair before thrusting his hand toward me.

  I look at it, biting my lip. If his voice, eyes, and smile have such an effect on me, I doubt taking his hand will do me any favours.

  I slowly reach out to take it. “Alex.”

  Wow!

  I was right. Touching him was a bad idea. My skin hums, like I’ve just had an electric shock. I pull my hand back quickly and put it into my back pocket. I wonder if he felt that, too, or if it’s just me.

  “Alex?” His deep voice saying my name does things to my body I don’t like to admit. He bites his bottom lip, like he's trying not to laugh.

  “Yes. Alex,” I repeat sternly. If he didn’t seem so amused by it, I would have told him it’s actually short for Alexis.

  Smile faltering, he clears his throat. “Um, this is Brad.” He pulls the guy from this morning to his side. He has such a huge, toothy grin, it’s all I notice.

  “Oh!” he says. “From the shop.”

  I nod and try to smile. I really can’t get over his grin or this whole situation right now.

  “The guy in the boob hat is Jason. We call him Jay.”

  Jason gives me the weakest wave I’ve ever seen. Now that I look at him properly, he is dressed the smartest out of the four. He seems a bit more of an old-fashioned gentleman than the others…even if he doesn’t seem to be happy right now.

  “And this is Reece, but we all call him Cole.”

  The last guy steps forward to shake my hand. He is the only one, other than Fin, who has taken the time to give me a proper greeting. I smile. His eyes are a curious shade of dark blue, and his long, dark blond hair perfectly frames his round face.

  Fin stands behind Cole, trying to watch every little move I make. His gaze hasn’t left me the entire time. I can feel his eyes on me.

  I look at each of them. All have the same designer stubble across their cheek and chin. In fact, they look like some designer boy band or something. I stifle a giggle.

  Focus. Focus. Focus.

  I take a moment to remember I’m working, but it’s so hard with Fin’s dark eyes watching everything I do.

  I clear my throat. “Right this way, guys.”

  I lead them into the bar area and give Cole the paperwork to fill out, since the reservation is in his name, while I recite the usual list of rules. I try my hardest not to look at Fin because every time I do, I see him staring at me.

  “Here are your keys.” I place them on the bar. I point to one. “This is to the front door…” I point to the other, “and this is to your room. The huge number on your key ring is the room number.

  “Now, we don’t have a lockout time or anything, but if you do come back late, we ask you to respect the other guests and the neighbours.”

  I look up briefly. Fin is biting his lip and staring at me, his arms folded across his chest.

  There goes my heart again.

  “Breakfast is between 8:00 and 9:00am, and the bar is open from 7:00pm until midnight. If there’s no one here to serve you, just ring this bell.” I point to the little doorbell on the post near to the bar.

  “Do you serve breakfast?”

  I know who’s asked the question before I even look up. I’ve already come to recognise his deep, sexy voice. I gain my composure before looking up to meet his gaze.

  “Yes, I do.”

  He nods knowingly. I hate that smug look on his face, like he has me figured out already.

  Cole finishes the paperwork and pushes it back to me. “We’re booked in here until Sunday. I was just wondering… If we needed to stay longer, how much notice would you need?”

  A week?! I’ve got to cope with this for a whole week?!

  “Depends how busy we get. We’re far enough away from the piers and the noise of the south that we don’t get crazy busy, so a couple days should be fine. Just let us know as soon as you do.” He nods with a smile.

  “Hey, it’s 9:00pm now, so does that mean the bar’s open?” Brad asks. I hear Fin laugh.

  “Yes, if you want a drink.” I give my best fake smile.

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Fin says.

  I look up at him, determined not to let him get to me…or at least not to let him know he’s getting to me.

  “So, what can I get you?” I don’t take my eyes off his.

  “You mean to drink?” He gives me that smile again.

  I feel the blush starting in my neck. I blink a few times. My mind tells me I w
ant to smack that grin off his face, but my body doesn’t seem to share that opinion.

  “Yes, to drink.”

  His friends seem oblivious to his flirting as they take photos of Jason in his boob hat in front of the bar.

  The guys get themselves comfy on the window seat. I walk the last pint of beer over and hand it to Jay, who’s now smiling. They’ve let him take that stupid hat off. His jet black hair is slicked back by some obviously fantastic hair product as the boob hat hasn’t even left a dent.

  “If you need anything else, just ring,” I say, my best fake smile still in place.

  “Wait. You’re going?” Fin asks.

  I can’t help but smile at the fact his smile has now dropped. I feel like I finally have some power in this situation.

  “Come on. It’s our first night. Stay and tell us about this place,” Cole says, smiling. Fin frowns and looks at him. I don’t think he likes Cole being so friendly.

  “Yeah.” With the end of his shoe, Brad pushes a chair toward me. Fin smiles, but not the sideways smile I’m getting used to. This is a new one.

  “Okay,” I say simply, shrugging, sitting down in the chair. I imagine this is what it must feel like to be at an interview. “So… What brings you guys to Blackpool for a whole week?” I ask. They all look at each other.

  “Well, I guess it’s sort of a stag do for Jay,” Brad says. I nod as Jason gives a weak smile. A week is the longest stag do I’ve ever heard of.

  “When are you getting married?” I ask him.

  He clears his throat nervously. “Well, the guys are getting a bit ahead of themselves. I haven’t actually asked her yet.”