I’ve got a playbook, right? Gray Smith was always supposed to make it in basketball. He was born and bred for success. His hometown can’t be a soft, sweet place that gives him some sort of comfort or refuge from the strains of city life, because that would be a sign of weakness. Little Havenhasto be an embarrassment. A blip in my life story. Part of the overcoming-adversity arc in my autobiography. If I’m lucky, Jon Hamm will play me in the movie adaptation.
“You don’t like Little Haven then?” Molly asks, putting her hands on her hips. The feisty look she sends me makes my chest tighten. She stops walking, and I realize then that we’ve stopped in front of the Little Haven Inn. “What exactly is it about our fair town that’s kept you from crossing the borders all these years?”
“Is that a joke?” I gesture behind me at the nothingness that was First Street. Time to dig in my heels, commit to the lie I’ve always told and tell it to myself. “Look, I’m glad Hunter is pulling in all the nipple-clamp loving tourists—” I suppress a smirk as Molly scowls “—but here you’re a big fish in a small pond. In New York, there’s opportunity. There are a million people, all trying to build something new and exciting and meaningful. Here there’s—what? The one coffee shop that will only hire you if you’re a senior citizen and anti-Starbucks? The Christmas parade where the same town crazy guy pulls his junk out and we all call it the Show of the Year? The girls who come through with the same accents and the same small town backstories and maybe the same relatives as you, too?”
Hunter snorts at that. “Thisisthe South. You’ve got a fair shot of dating a cousin at least once.”
“The girls in New York might be bimbos,” I continue. “But there’s a little more variety there. Meanwhile, Little Haven looksexactlythe way I left it senior year. It’s sad and dumpy.”
Molly’s brow has pinched in the middle. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and a vein on the side of her neck is throbbing.
“So sorry you have to spend your time in this redneck hovel, Hot Shot Smith.”
She gestures up at the Little Haven Inn. It’s a short, squat building in desperate need of paint. I sigh.
“Okay, just look at the inn, for example,” I argue. “I’ll do my time here, but it’s going to feel like a damn prison sentence. I’m guessing no cable, a decent case for no wi-fi either. Its roof is probably leaking in the back and the whole place will smell like bad pot-pourri. It’ll have an old school inn-keep that looks identical to Agnes back at The Daily Buzz. They probably share a hairstylist and get together to bitch about Social Security and lines at the grocery store.”
Hunter clears his throat. It’s then that I realize they’re both looking very uncomfortable, with Molly bordering on angry, more than just ill at ease.
“What?”
Hunter elbows his sister. “Say hello to the old bitchy inn-keep of Little Haven Inn.”
CHAPTER TWO: MOLLY
I throw open the front doors to my inn, gesturing at the cozy interior with the original brick fireplace and carefully curated décor. I turn back to Gray Smith, flashing him my best smile.
“Welcome to the Little Haven Inn,” I announce, sweeping through to gesture at all the amenities.
It took a long time—months, actually—to get this place up and running from the desolation it was in after my grandmother died and left it to me. Every throw blanket, every mug, hell, every pen at the front desk was chosen with love, and Iknowit looks good.
And Christ, it’s really fun to see Gray eat his words over how well I’ve done with the place.
The satisfaction of showing off is almost enough to distract me. It’s almost enough to convince me that’s the reason my heart is beating so fast, and there’s a blossom of warmth running across my chest. At least for a moment, I can pretend I’m getting off on my own pride instead of on seeinghim.
Even standing here now, mouth stupidly agape as he walks into my inn and looks around, Gray looks like a cover model. I might resent the big city, but even I’ll admit whatever fancy product he’s using has done wonders for his shaggy sweep of dark hair, and that expensive shirt and jacket hug muscles that have only been refined in the years spent away training up basketball prospects.
Damn it, I’ve had nearly two decades to get past this stupid teenage crush on my brother’s best friend. Lindsey would come by the inn sometimes and tell me about how Gray insisted on sending her and Jake money to fix up his dad’s old place, and I’d tell myself Gray probably only sent cash to feed his own pride in generosity. Some clip of him would flash on Sports Center, and I’d play it over and over on my office computer an embarrassing number of times, convincing myself that for all the jokes he and my brother used to make about Southern bad grammar and hillbilly education, the city had clearly made him stupider.
But now he’s standing in front of me, and I’m realizing I’m not a very good liar. Not even to myself.
Sure, he’s a dick about our little town, but he’s still the cute, funny guy I remember hanging around Hunter. He’s still got at least a few brain cells to rub together. And I keep catching him checking me out, those chocolate eyes raking me up and down and sending goosebumps shooting across my arms under my thick sweater.
I still fucking want him. It’s like no time has passed at all.
“I can’t remember a time I was so embarrassed,” Gray mutters. “I’msosorry for what I said, Molly.”
“And this coming from the guy who became a meme after he punched Maxim Myers.” Hunter snorts. “You know he must feel bad then.”
I clear my throat and bite my lip. I stride into the foyer, gesturing around me.
“This is the lobby where I’ll check you in,” I say as I pass the partition to the employee space and slide behind the counter. “You can hang out here any time you like, as it’s a common area for all the guests. As I’m sure you’re aware, since this innislocated in Backwoods Little Haven, Georgia, you will probably have to dumb down your big city lingo when you talk to the other guests. Education has been outlawed here after the fourth grade.”
“Wait, what—” Gray’s voice fades off as his brow furrows.
My brother chuckles beside Gray, striding in and sitting down on my couch. He props his heavy black boots on my coffee table, and I shoot him alook. He blushes, removing his feet before I have to lecture him.
I turn back to Gray, who is still taking in the space with wide eyes.