?
?It’s my fault,” the older woman said firmly. “I hit the post. The inn is usually immaculate. Beautiful. The Carmichaels run a first-class operation. Don’t you dare write a bad review because of my negligence!”
The way she shook her finger at him reminded him of his favorite childhood nanny, Adele. She’d had a way of making her displeasure known with just a judicious wave of that slightly bent finger. Of all the string of nannies his generally disengaged parents had hired to look after him, Adele was the only one he recalled very clearly. That memory made him smile as he murmured, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kinley placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and Dan saw her give a little squeeze. “It was an accident, Rhoda. No one is blaming you. We’re all relieved that you weren’t hurt. Dan, this is Rhoda Foley, who works with us here at the inn.”
Despite the awkward circumstances, Kinley made it clear that she was standing by her employee. Dan saw no evidence of irritation with the older woman, merely a matter-of-fact acceptance and what seemed to be genuine concern for her well-being. Nor did he think Kinley’s kindness was put on for his benefit. Rhoda’s fierce loyalty to her employers was apparent. His positive first impression of Kinley bumped up another notch.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Foley.”
She mumbled a reply, though she continued to shoot looks of warning at him.
Kinley cleared her throat. “Rhoda, why don’t you go inside and have a cup of tea to calm your nerves while Logan takes care of your truck?”
Having sent the older woman on her way, she turned back to the men. “Dan, this is my brother, Logan Carmichael.”
Though he saw the family resemblance as they briefly shook hands, Dan noted that Logan’s features were more roughly carved than his sister’s, his jaw squared beneath a three-day growth of dark beard. His brown hair was a shade darker than Kinley’s, and his eyes were hazel, shadowed with what appeared to be a permanent frown. Maybe it was just the damage to the inn that made him look so stern, but Dan suspected Kinley’s brother wasn’t the lighthearted type even under the best of circumstances.
A petite blonde with a sweet face and angelic smile came out the side door of the inn and approached them. “I’ve got Rhoda settled down in the kitchen with some tea. Logan, do you need me to make any calls for you?”
Logan shrugged. “I’ll get the guys to help me start the repairs right away. You can deal with the insurance.”
“Dan, this is our sister, Bonnie,” Kinley said. “Bonnie, meet Dan Phelan, the writer for Modern South magazine. He’s going to be spending an extra day with us. Isn’t that nice?”
Dan couldn’t help but be amused by Kinley’s too-cheery tone. Though she was doing her best to hide it, he would bet she thought it was anything but nice that he’d shown up twenty-four hours early.
If Bonnie was as displeased as her sister, it wasn’t evident in her pleasant expression. She bore only a faint resemblance to her siblings, her eyes a deep blue, her coloring fair, her stature more compact. Striking had been the first adjective to pop into his mind with Kinley. He would have described Bonnie as pretty. Yet his attention continued to be focused primarily on Kinley, even as Bonnie spoke to him. “Rhoda told me you were here. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phelan. Welcome to our inn.”
“It’s Dan. And thank you. It’s a beautiful place.”
He wasn’t just being polite. Despite the current minor damage, the inn really was lovely. The multibayed Queen Anne-style building was surrounded by an inviting wraparound porch that opened onto the drive-through portico. The siding was a pale gray, the trim pristine white. The front door was painted a bright red and featured leaded-glass inserts and sidelights. A stained glass half-round window above the now-sagging portico drew the eye upward to the peaked, shingled roof against the bright blue sky. Colorful spring flowers bloomed in several tidy beds, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, draped in rapidly dissipating morning fog, formed a spectacular backdrop for it all. Compared to those distant peaks, Bride Mountain was little more than a foothill, but the view was breathtaking.
Bonnie motioned apologetically toward the broken post. “As you can see, we’ve had a little mishap this morning, but fortunately no one was injured and my brother will see that it’s quickly repaired. Please come in through the side door. Breakfast service ended at nine, but I’m sure I can find something for you if you’re hungry.”
“I’ve eaten already, thank you.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Sounds good. I’ll just get my bags.”
“Um—let me get them for you,” Logan offered, not doing a particularly good job of hiding his reluctance.
Because he’d seen Kinley give her brother a sharp nudge, Dan fought a grin as he declined politely. “I’ll let you get to your repairs. I’ll carry my own bags. I pack light.”
Nodding rather curtly, Logan turned back to the damaged portico, already lifting his cell phone to his ear to summon assistance.
“I’ll help you bring in your things,” Kinley offered, subtly directing Dan away from the portico damage and leaving her brother to deal with it. “I’ll show you up to your room and then give you the grand tour when you’re ready.”
“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze focused on her face.
She paused a moment, her head slightly tilted as she met his eyes, and he wondered if she had sensed his immediate attraction to her. But she merely smiled and nodded, speaking in the same briskly professional voice she’d used before. “Let’s get your bags, and I’ll take you in through the side door.”
The disarray outside could not be in starker contrast to the tidy inside of Bride Mountain Inn. The side door opened into the dining area rather than the front foyer. As he followed Kinley through the big room, Dan’s gaze was drawn to the large, sparklingly clean back windows that overlooked the gardens and the distant mountains. The room was airy, immaculate and immediately welcoming. It was easy to imagine himself lingering over coffee at one of the round tables and watching the sky brighten over the flowers, fountain and charming Queen Anne gazebo behind the inn.
She led him into the entryway that would have been his first sight of the place had he come in the front door. The matching leaded-glass sidelights on either side of the door flooded the wood-floored foyer with morning sunlight. A small antique reception desk held a big bouquet of fresh flowers, and an old-fashioned mail cubby on the papered wall behind the desk reinforced the old-world-inn feel to the place. Sparkling crystals dangled from the chandelier that lit the two-story space, and a curving, wood-banistered stairway led upstairs.
“Very nice,” he commented.