“Still,” I said. “It’d be weird. And he was dressed normal, but he had businessman written all over him. Businessman who works out, maybe, but still. I could practically picture one of those Bluetooth headsets on him and a suit. Just no. Anyway, I doubt I’ll even see him again.”
“No? You don’t think he’ll be staying at the Ashford Inn? You could probably see him from your window if you tried.”
I licked my lips. I hadn’t thought about that. The Ashford Inn was caddy-corner from the little apartment building where I lived. It was as much a fixture of Fairhope as McDermit’s or the drive-in.
“Anyway,” Lin said, voice completely casual. “If you’re not interested in snagging yourself a bite of out-of-town dad bod, maybe you can introduce me.”
I slammed the dough on the counter a little harder than I intended, then cleared my throat. “Dad bod? He looked more like Thor.” I sounded way too defensive when I said that. “And you can introduce yourself. I have no plans to talk to him again.”
Lin’s grin was wicked. “Mhm.” And I hated how pleased she sounded with herself.
She had no idea what I was thinking, despite what she may believe.
“Guy from out of town shows up and you two happen to cross paths,” she mused. “Sounds like some sparks flew. And here you’ve been wishing for your little once upon a time story. Almost makes you wonder if–”
“Nope. It doesn’t. My perfect story doesn’t start with me clubbing a guy over the head with my purse. And my Mr. Perfect doesn’t already have kids. He’s also my age. And a lot less grumpy.”
Lin shrugged. “If you say so.”
That’s damn right, I thought. I did say so.
For at least two minutes, I kept my eyes on the dough I was kneading. Did I want to sneak a look toward the Ashford Inn? Yes. Was I going to let Lin catch me doing it? No.
So when I thought enough time had passed, I very discreetly lifted my eyes to the window over Lin’s shoulder.
She’d been waiting. Lin clapped her hands and laughed, following my gaze.
I stifled a smile. “Shut up.”
5
GREYSON
I stood up, pressing my knuckles to my lower back and groaning.
Molly darted out from behind a pile of boxes with one finger on her forehead. She let out a loud “Neigh!” and then looked up at me as I continued to work the kink out of my back, groaning loudly. “That’s the noise old people make,” she said.
“You’re a talking unicorn, now?”
“I’m magic. I can do anything.”
“Can you unpack all the toys you brought in your room with some of that magic?” I asked.
“I haven’t picked a room yet, silly.” She ran off in a kind of running gallop. A few moments later, I heard the gentle thumps of her feet upstairs.
My grandfather had been running this little inn for over sixty years, but the building was older than that. It originally belonged to a wealthy man who moved to Fairhope in the 1800s with his mistress. The house was an old colonial style with original wooden beams, dark paneling throughout, and eccentric wallpaper that varied from room to room. The floorboards creaked and the windows were drafty, but there was almost always a fire roaring in the common room and free coffee and hot chocolate by the front desk.
Coming from our life in D.C., this place felt like the moment you slip on a pair of noise canceling headphones in a busy cafe. At least if your noise canceling headphones still let in unicorn sounds and little boys who wouldn’t stop rolling things down the staircase.
“Billy!” I shouted in the rough direction of the sounds. “You’re going to break something.”
“I know!” He replied cheerily.
I couldn’t help grinning a little. The kid really was just like I’d been at that age. I was also grinning because this inn felt more like home than anywhere else ever had. My real home was a penthouse full of expensive artwork and things we weren’t supposed to touch. It was like living in a showroom. A showroom where my brothers and I were supposed to be shining additions to my father’s collection of impressive things. Naturally, Zack and I had gone on to disappoint tremendously. Only our youngest brother, Patrick, had earned my father’s approval.
I may have earned a tremendous amount of money, but I didn’t do it in a field that my father deemed worthy. Thus, I was just as much of a disappointment as if I’d been eating out of trash cans.
“This is all you brought?” Zack asked. My brother was tall like me but wore his beard thicker and embraced the whole small town mountain man aesthetic. He had the Ashford eyebrows–thick, pure black streaks above narrow blue-gray eyes. Even though he looked like he spent his time chopping down trees in remote forests, I knew he was closer to a tree hugger. He spent all his time wandering around the woods looking for injured animals to rescue and rehabilitate at his center in town. It was a petting zoo slash educational center, and he ran the place with the help of a single employee who could give tours when he was out in the field.