Chapter 1
Hard work never killed anyone, but why take the chance?
Four months ago
“Excuse me.”
At the sound of a man’s husky voice, I halt rummaging through the cleaning supplies. Holy hot flashes. A man’s voice should not be sexy enough on its own to cause a shiver to run down my spine, but that’s exactly what’s happening.
I need to see the face that matches the voice. Since I’m on my knees with my butt sticking out of the supply closet, I stand and whirl around at the same time. Unfortunately, I forgot I was holding onto a box of cleaning supplies and Mr. Sexy Voice is standing directly behind me. The box collides with his body, and I lose my hold on it causing it to drop to the floor and the contents to fly out and scatter through the hallway.
“Shit,” I mutter as I drop to my knees to gather the supplies.
“Let me help.” He offers.
I look up to tell him not to worry about it and – whack! – our heads collide since he’s already leaning over. I fall back on my bottom and place a hand on my head. Ow.
“I wasn’t looking forward to my trip to a small town, but I didn’t expect to get injured the second I arrive.”
I scowl up at him – small towns are awesome, especially if the small town is Winter Falls – but the scowl freezes on my face when I get my first look at him. Yowzah! Talk about a stone cold fox. His dark hair is styled to appear as if he just rolled out of bed – making me itch to run my fingers through it and mess up all the careful styling – while his deep, blue eyes sparkle with humor as he watches me check him out. And then there’s his jaw. Square jaws are like catnip to me. I want to caress his jaw while I kiss him.
He chuckles and I remember where I am – sitting on my ass in the hallway at my bed and breakfast. What is wrong with me? I’m not usually klutzy Karen, and I do NOT check out guests. I mentally slap myself upside the head. Get yourself together, woman. No drooling over a strange man no matter how sexy his voice is.
I ignore his hand offering to help me up and stand on my own. When I reach my full height of a whopping five-feet-two, I realize this man is not only gorgeous but tall. Probably around six-foot. I would fit perfectly snuggled under his shoulder. So much for not drooling over strange men.
I shut the supply closet door behind me and walk around the reception desk. “Checking in?”
“Won’t your boss get mad at you for checking me in? Maybe you should call him.”
Him? I briefly close my eyes to stop myself from rolling them. Rolling eyes at guests is bad, even when they are being presumptuous.
“It’s fine. She won’t mind.” I make sure to emphasize the she as I wiggle the mouse to wake up the computer and type in my password. “Do you have a reservation?”
He doesn’t respond and I gaze up at him to discover him staring at me. I know I don’t look my best. Rushing around trying to clean all the rooms in the inn after getting up early to prepare breakfast doesn’t exactly equal a fresh and clean appearance. My face is probably red and shiny, and I don’t want to think about how my hair looks.
“Do you have a reservation?” I repeat my question.
He finally snaps out of his silence and nods. “Yes. It’s under Cole Hawkins.”
Dang. A sexy name for a sexy man.
“Are you positive your boss—”
“Here, it is,” I say and cut him off.
I should probably tell him I’m the owner and operator of the Inn on Main at this point, but it’ll be more fun to let him figure it out on his own. And I could use some fun.
“You’ll be staying with us for two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve put you in the executive suite on the top floor. You won’t …” My words trail off as the Chief of Police stalks into the building.
“Chief Alston.” My voice sounds friendly, but there’s a frown on my face. I always assumed Lyric would become my brother-in-law since my older sister, Aspen, has been in love with him forever, but the two broke up a decade ago and my sister’s been heartbroken ever since.
Being a witness to Lyric moving on with his life and dating other women has been painful, especially since my sister avoids coming home because she’s afraid to see him with another woman. She’ll deny it, but I know it’s true.
He nods to me in greeting before focusing his attention on my guest. “Are you the owner of the Jeep Grand Cherokee?”