“It’s not like you gave me a choice,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, we did,” Cole said sternly. “We challenged you, but you accepted it. You could’ve said no.”
I bit my bottom lip, holding back a sigh. There’d been no way I could’ve said no, not with all those people watching. But I wasn’t about to admit to them how thoroughly they’d entrapped me.
“Anyway, yes, she has a room. As do you,” Brady said. “And there’s a bathroom down the hall. You, her, and I will have to work out a shower schedule—”
“What? We have to share a bathroom? With you?” I hadn’t shared a bathroom since my freshman year, and never with a man.
Cole slowed the truck just as the last of the town disappeared behind us. “Want us to take you back to the train station? All you have to do is record a full apology, recommend your followers book a stay at our inn, and you’re in the clear.”
“What?” I sputtered in disbelief, unsure which insane thing to focus on first. “You think my followers are going to want to stay at your little inn?”
Cole shrugged, and I could feel his shoulder press against mine. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Is that why you did all this?” I waited a beat, but neither man answered. “In case you haven’t noticed, my viewers are from all over.”
“But eleven percent live in Illinois,” Brady said. “That’s still a pretty big number.” He raised his eyes when I stared up at him. “We do know how to use the internet, you know.”
There was a sick feeling in my stomach. They’d made me leave the comforts of home because they thought my fans, tech-savvy young women, were going to drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere to stay in their dinky little inn? They were crazy if they thought that.
As my mind raced, I focused on the landscape. There was farmland on either side, although up ahead there was a wooded area. And road signs indicated that there was a small town a few miles to the north.
“He was kidding about the bathroom,” Cole said after a period of silence.
I huffed out the breath I’d been holding at that news.
“Yeah, we don’t have to share,” Brady said. “The inn doesn’t actually have modern plumbing, but the outhouse works just fine.”
“What?” I shrieked, only to catch Brady’s grin out of the corner of my eye. But I wasn’t amused—and neither, apparently, was Cole.
“Your room and your assistant’s room both have a private bath,” he said.
It took me a moment to compose myself. “That’s good to know.” Since Cole had been civil enough to cut through Brady’s bull, I decided to speak civilly in return. “How many guest rooms are there?”
“Six.”
“Seriously?”
“What?” Brady asked.
“That just… seems small. Is it a bed and breakfast?” They sometimes had only a few rooms.
“Certainly not,” Cole said, sounding offended.
“Do you serve breakfast?”
“Well… yes,” he admitted.
“Then why isn’t it a bed and breakfast?”
It was Brady who answered, amusement ever present in his voice. “Because real men don’t own B&Bs.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s just that six rooms doesn’t seem like much of an inn.”
“Exactly how much business do you think we get in the scenic town of Donovan’s Mill?” Brady asked.
“Probably not much,” I said truthfully.