Page 8 of Inn To You

Immediate reservations at a restaurant with a four-month wait? I was your man.

Lonely, rich woman passing through town? I could accommodate.

But something was different here.

Maybe it was Tessa’s reaction—her eager response and quick release. Maybe it was the way her body relaxed like she was giving me control and really giving me her worries. She wanted me to take her concerns from her, and even more surprising was that I was glad to carry her burden. Not that there was any hardship in what just happened, other than I jizzed in my jeans like a randy teenager instead of a man of forty-five.

“I’m sorry that wasn’t what you expected.”

Her haughty tone snaps me out of my head, and I blink. Then I blink again, taking in the stern expression on her face but the hesitation in her eyes. The look is a contradiction between the fierceness she wants to portray and hurt.

She’s in over her head like she said earlier, and the last thing she needs is a complication like me, like what we just did. Only I couldn’t help myself. The sorrow coming off her skin. The scent of meadow flowers and honey. I needed to connect with her. Touching her neck, feeling her pulse fluttering under my fingers like a tiny bird flapping its wings…I just had to have more of her.

I step toward her, crowding her space as she remains pinned to the wall.

“It was more than I expected,” I admit, finding myself in a rare position of vulnerability.

“Really?” The softening of her face and surprise in her tone cause my own insides to flap around like a caged bird.

Dammit. What is this reaction to her?

I nod and take a step backward, keeping my eyes on her. Then I take another large step, still facing her, like a damn magnet that can’t quite break the attraction. She remains against the wall, watching me, waiting for me to move. Finally, I spin and exit the room, expecting her to be right behind me, but when I take a final glance down the hallway, she isn’t emerged. She’s still inside room twenty-seven.

+ + +

I escape the inn and return to my rented condo on the lake, taking a quick shower and washing away the evidence of my behavior. Not able to stand my own company or the thoughts racing through my head, I make an impromptu visit to my brother, who happens to live down the street from Bluebird Hollow.

Zack is three years younger than me and newly in love with the woman who inherited our childhood home. Their tale is quite the romance from last summer, and my brother learned a lot about love in his early forties.

Me? I’m not certain I’ll ever understand the meaning of the word.

I let myself into his backyard. Nothing obstructs his view of the lake, and I gaze out at the dark water in the distance. Late spring brings longer days, but we have months to go before the sun hangs in the sky, stretching out the evenings and brightening the sunsets. As I stand in my former yard, fond memories fill my head as they have since Zack moved into this old house. When Zack and I were kids, our family was happy here, or so we thought.

I glance at the tree house, rebuilt and restructured to accommodate Zack’s twin boys, Trevor and Oliver. The original platform once supported my father, Zack, and me, and we’d spend nights staring up through winter-bare limbs and make wishes on stars.

Wishes are for kids, I’d tell Dad now. Because I’d wish to continue working at the Magellen. I’d still have my condo on Lake Shore Drive. If wishes came true I’d be in Chicago.

Instead, I’m here, and a heavy clap on my shoulder reminds me where I stand.

“Noah?” Concern etches my younger brother’s voice.

“What’s up?” I tip up my chin.

“Isn’t that what I should be asking you? You’re the one standing in my backyard, staring at that old tree.”

Zack and I remain quiet, gazing at the new structure that’s more like a small house among the branches. The fort, as we’d called our platform, was no more than a few boards and a rickety ladder of rungs nailed into the large trunk. We’d built that “fort” with our father, or at least I had, and the memory was one of a handful from when I believed in happy families and the promise of a future.

Turning to face Zack, his worrisome expression tightens my chest. He’s a decent guy, if a bit standoffish to some. He loves harder than people give him credit. He’s devoted to our mother, adores the family next door, and would die for his three lifelong best friends—Logan, Mason, and Ben. He also loves his twin boys, despite them being rambunctious at times, and his heart and more belong to River, his future wife. My brother eventually obtained the happy family and future of love I once wished for on those stars Dad pointed out to us.

And those melancholy thoughts have me asking my brother for a drink.

“Whiskey neat, coming up.” Zack excuses himself, disappears inside the house but quickly returns. The early spring night is cold because the Midwestern weather can’t decide if it wants to remain in winter or move on to warmer days. I’d vote for option B. I’m certainly living a B-plan lately.

“How is the inn?” Zack asks, and I tell him about my three days with my annoying new boss.

“So what you’re saying is you’re attracted to her?”

“I didn’t say that.” I snort as I lift the crystal tumbler and swallow the remaining contents in one gulp. The burn of alcohol warms my insides but does nothing to settle the hammering of my heart. Thoughts of Tessa’s mouth on mine, heated and spicy like this whiskey, fill my head. She’s a little spitfire, and I enjoyed her warmth, but I can’t get too comfortable with her. I’m only here temporarily.