“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.” I smiled at the midforties couple checking out of the inn.
“We just love your inn and this little town,” the woman said. “We’re already planning to come back next year.”
“Wonderful! I’d love to have you back, but I’ll warn you, I fill up quickly in the summers. So as soon as your travel dates are finalized, give me a call so I can block a room for you.”
“Thank you.” The man nodded. “We’ll call you next week.”
As I handed them their receipt, the lobby door opened and Hunter stepped inside. He held the door open for my departing guests, smiling as they brushed by, then closed the door behind them.
I took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly when he wasn’t looking, willing myself to act normally. Be cool. Just be yourself.
It had been four days since the knee-to-the-balls incident and I hadn’t spoken to Hunter. By the time I’d shuffled Coby out the door each morning, Hunter’s expensive white truck had already been gone to—where I assumed—was work. In the evenings, he wouldn’t return until well after Coby’s bedtime. Spying from my loft like a ridiculous teenage girl, I had been living for the moments when I’d catch a glimpse of him walking from his vehicle to room eight.
But now he was here, at six thirty on a Wednesday evening, holding two empty Tupperware containers.
“Hey.” He waved the plastic boxes in the air.
That sexy voice was flustering me already. Maisy. Be. Cool. I took another breath and smiled. “Hi.”
“I saw you in here and wanted to drop these off and say thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I know you only asked for peas the other night, but the mom in me didn’t feel right leaving you dinner without properly representing all of the food groups.”
He chuckled and stepped closer. “I appreciate it.”
Two nights ago, I had made a chicken and rice casserole for dinner, then set some leftovers aside with Hunter’s peas. I had abandoned my previous plan to have my housekeeper attend to his room and instead gave it my personal attention. After I’d cleaned yesterday morning, I’d left behind some leftovers in his fridge.
“Your food was great.” Hunter set the containers on the lobby counter. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in longer than I can remember. It hit the spot.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it. If you’re ever in search of a meal, my door is always open and I always have plenty of food. I’m not very good at making meals for one. All of my recipes come from my mom and she cooks for my dad and brothers, three of the biggest humans on the planet. So, um, you’re welcome anytime.”
Out came the words before I could really think them through and I immediately started to panic. Was a dinner invitation too weird? I had just assaulted the man, then used my key to leave a casserole in his room. Now I was asking him into my home? Did that sound desperate?
Dope!
I tensed, waiting for him to sprint out the door.
He surprised me by smiling and leaning closer. “I’d really like that. Thanks.”
As he spoke, my eyes drifted to his soft lips and I got lost in their movement. Their color was a pale blend of peach and pink, the bottom one fuller than the top. They looked like the perfect lips for a hot, wet kiss. A rush of heat pooled between my legs and I yanked my eyes away from Hunter’s mouth when I realized I’d been staring.
His eyes weren’t waiting for mine as I’d expected. They were locked on my mouth, doing some lip inspection of their own.
Did he want to kiss me too? At the thought, my tongue darted out automatically and wet my bottom lip. Hunter’s eyes flared and snapped to mine. He held my gaze for a moment, then another, before finally clearing his throat and leaning back.
Grateful that he’d broken the tension, I sucked in some heavy air and searched for a safe topic of conversation. One that had nothing to do with his lips. Or kissing. Or me still wondering if he slept naked.
“That’s a nice camera.” Slung across his broad chest was a nylon strap carrying an expensive Canon camera.
“Thanks.” He patted the lens. “I got it a couple of weeks ago and haven’t had a chance to use it yet. I was going to head up into the mountains tonight and see if I could get a couple good shots of the sunset.”
“Is that what you do? Are you a photographer?”
He shook his head. “No, this is just a hobby. I got into it a few years back but rarely have time to practice.”
I nodded in agreement. “I know how that goes. I used to have hobbies, but with this place, I barely have time to think these days. Not that I’m complaining. I love my job.” I caught the beginnings of a ramble and stopped myself before I got on a roll. “So if you’re not a photographer, what do you do here in town?”
I was being nosy but couldn’t help it. Normally when someone new moved to Prescott, I’d get the scoop about them from the gossip mill. I hadn’t heard a lick of news about Hunter’s background but I wanted it to stay that way. I wanted to hear all about him firsthand, starting with what he did for a living.
“I work at the—”
“Maze!” Michael burst into the lobby with a loud and exuberant shout. I’d been so caught up in listening to Hunter’s deep voice I hadn’t even heard Michael’s truck pull up. But my brother’s timing couldn’t have been worse. I was finally getting over my Hunter jitters and proving that I could carry on a normal conversation, but now I’d just have to hope for the chance to try again another day.
Damn it.
“Hi, Michael,” I sighed. “What’s up?”
“I’m getting married!”
My jaw dropped. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m getting married.” He came behind the counter and picked me up for a swirly hug. “I’m going to marry Alana Kelly.” He set me down and started shaking my shoulders as he smiled.
I stepped out of his grip and took a step back before he accidentally hurt me in his excitement. “You asked her to marry you? You just started dating! You’re going to scare her right out of Jamison County!”
Michael had called me after his and Alana’s dinner at The Black Bull and told me how great it had gone, but that had been just days ago.
He rolled his eyes. “No, of course I didn’t ask her to marry me, but I’m going to. Maybe in a year or something. Or six months. Or four. I don’t know, but she’s the one.”
“Thank goodness.” I relaxed and smiled up at my younger brother, happy he’d found someone special. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me too.” Michael finally looked around the lobby and noticed Hunter staring at us. “Oh, hey.” He held out a hand. “Sorry to interrupt. Michael Holt. I’m Maisy’s brother.”
“No problem,” Hunter said, shaking his hand. “We were just visiting.”
“Cool.” Michael nodded and helped himself to a seat at the counter. “Welcome to Prescott. How long are you visiting?”
“I’m actually moving here,” Hunter said. “I’m having a place built but the construction crew isn’t done yet, so I’m staying here for a few weeks while they finish it up.”
“Nice,” Michael said. “Where are you moving from?”
“Chicago.”
“Great city.” Michael started in on a story about his vacation to Chicago a few years ago while I racked my brain, mentally touring through all of the new construction in the area. I really wanted to ask Hunter about his house but I was trying to tone down the stalker-ish questions. So instead of prodding for an address, I sat quietly, half listening to the conversation, half thinking about where he could be living.
There was a new house being built down by the river but I knew the owners. Other than that, all of the new construction was outside of town in the mountain foothills. Those lots were huge and predominantly bought by outsiders wanting a “cabin” in Montana—cabins that were, at a minimum, twenty times the size of my loft.
As far as I knew, there were only three homes in the foothills currently in progress with Jamison Valley Construction. If Hunter’s was the place I was thinking about, he had money. A lot of money, something I’d already suspected. It had been pretty hard not to notice the Rolex he’d forgotten by the bathroom sink or the cashmere sweaters in his closet when I’d been cleaning his room.
The money didn’t bother me, though, especially since Hunter seemed so down-to-earth and modest. He seemed like the type of man who would downplay his wealth just to make sure he didn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable. Most of the well-off men I’d met had always made a point to flaunt their wealth. Coby’s father had been a doctor and he’d always made sure to drop hints about his fortune.
Don’t go there.
I shook off thoughts of Coby’s father and focused on Hunter and Michael’s discussion.
“Are you a photographer?” Michael asked.
Hunter smiled at me, then looked back to Michael and said, “No, I’m a—”
“Mommy!”
Coby was shoving open the lobby door with Mom trailing close behind.
“Hey!” I stepped around the corner and bent low to give him a hug. “How was your date with Nana?” Every Wednesday night, Mom had a special dinner date with Coby at the café, just the two of them.
“I got ice cream!”
“Yummy. Did you bring me some too?”
His eyes got wide with worry as he turned back to Mom. “Nana, we forgot Mommy’s ice cream.” His words got jumbled in his panic and “forgot” came out more like “fwor-got” and “Mommy’s” was a rushed “Mi’s.”
“It’s okay, buddy.” I stood up and ruffled his hair. “I have to eat some dinner first anyway. What did you guys have?”
“Cheeseburgers!” he and Mom shouted together. They always had cheeseburgers.
Coby’s smile turned shy as he looked around and noticed a stranger in the room. Mom noticed Hunter too, but instead of getting shy, she gave his backside a full head-to-toe assessment, then turned her eyes to me and mouthed, “Wow.”
I rolled my eyes and started introductions, hoping that Mom would stop fanning herself soon. “Mom, this is Hunter. He’s a guest here. Hunter, this is my mother, Marissa. You might see her from time to time because she helps in the office when I’m busy.”
He turned and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Mom said without letting go of his hand. “Oh, you’re a photographer!”
“Actually, I’m—”
“You should take pictures for the rooms!” she interrupted, still holding onto his hand.
“Mom, let him go.”
“Whoopsie.” She pretended to be embarrassed but she was still holding his hand.
“Mom, his hand?”
Reluctantly, she released him. “Sorry. Anyway, like I was saying. You should take pictures for the rooms. Maisy, tell him your idea.”
I pursed my lips and gave her my best “butt out” look but she ignored me completely.
“Tell him your idea.”
Hunter’s eyes were waiting when I turned back his way. “Idea for what?”
“The artwork in the rooms. Right now, I have standard, cheap hotel art—obviously, you know that since you have a room. Anyway, I’ve been remodeling all the rooms for the last few years but haven’t invested in art yet because I want to commission something special. I was thinking of doing a collection of photographs from places in town and the surrounding area and then having each room be different.”
“Tell him the postcard part,” Michael said before Hunter could comment.
I gave my brother the same “butt out” look—which also went ignored—and looked back to Hunter. “I thought I’d make postcards that correspond to each room’s art, and guests would get one when they checked in. They could send them to family members or collect them from various stays. Whatever they want. I just thought it would be something unique.”
Explaining the idea out loud always bothered me. Everyone loved my postcard idea, but I’d always wavered. Some days I thought it was a stroke of genius. Other days I thought it was lame and dorky. Since I really didn’t want Hunter to think I was a dork, I bit my bottom lip as I waited for his response.
“I like it,” Hunter said. “The whole thing sounds like a nice touch. The pictures and the postcards. I think people would really like it and it’s different from what you’d see in any commercial hotel.”
My lip dropped out of my teeth. “You really think so?”
His face broke into a breathtaking, wide smile, showcasing his perfectly straight white teeth. “Really.”
I was so doing those postcards.
“Excellent!” Mom clapped. “Then you’ll take the pictures?”
“Mom!” I scolded at the same time Hunter shook his head.
“Oh, I’m not a professional. This is just an amateur hobby.” He looked to me. “You probably want someone with talent.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Mom said. “This could be a chance for you to refine your craft. How about this? You take some pictures and show them to Maisy. If she likes them, she’ll buy them. If she doesn’t, you’ll have had a chance to practice.”
“Mom, you’re being pushy.” I looked to Hunter. “I’m so sorry.”
He chuckled. “It’s fine.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Mom said, completely misinterpreting him.
“I, uh, don’t really know the area. I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”
“That’s okay. Maisy can show you around. Please, say yes? We’ve all been so anxious to see her rooms finally finished and she’s worked so hard. To see that old artwork in those rooms, it just breaks my heart. She deserves to have them finished just right.”
“Mother,” I muttered at the same time Michael said, “A little too thick there, Mom.”
Hunter looked to me and I shrugged. There was no arguing with my mother in the room, not when she was set on railroading Hunter and I together. Was this how Gigi had felt when I’d played matchmaker with her and Jess? If so, I was calling her the minute I got to the loft and apologizing.
“Come on, what do you say? Please?” Mom begged.
“I can’t promise they’ll be any good,” Hunter warned.
“Yay!” Mom cheered. “This will be wonderful.”
Before I could tell Hunter we could discuss the details later—and give him a chance to back out—Coby tugged on my leg. “Mommy, can I go play with Pickle now?”
My eyes dropped to Coby who was talking to me but looking at Hunter. Coby was normally a loud and energetic little boy, but with strangers around, he was shy. He must have been warming up to Hunter if he felt comfortable enough to speak up.
“Sure, buddy. One more minute.” I looked back up to Hunter. “This is Coby, my son.”
“Hey, Coby.” Hunter crouched down in front of us. “Nice to meet you.”
I watched Hunter’s face carefully as he spoke to Coby. The last time Hunter had seen my son was when we’d passed him by the vending machines. At the time, he’d given Coby an odd look, but now, Hunter’s face was nothing but gentle and kind. Maybe he wasn’t intimidated by my single-mother status after all.
“Can you tell me where you got that shirt?” Hunter asked. “Batman is my favorite too. Maybe the store has one in my size.”
Coby let go of my leg and puffed out his Batman-covered chest. “The package man gave this to me.”
The mailman was getting credit? No way! “Coby, I bought you that shirt. The mailman delivered it, but that was a gift from me.” Coby was convinced that the mailman was his biggest fan and the person behind every delivered present from Amazon.
Coby frowned up at me, then turned back to Hunter. “You could ask the package man to bring you one too. He’s really nice and good at giving presents.”
“I can’t win,” I mumbled.
Hunter chuckled and stood. “Sounds like a good idea. I’d better hit the road. Thanks again for dinner.” He said good-bye to Michael and Mom and walked to the door.
“Wait,” Mom called before he could escape. “When are you guys going to start on the pictures?”
“She’s nothing if not persistent,” Michael mumbled at my side.
He had that right. Mom wasn’t going to let Hunter out of her sight until this agreement was locked down tight and we had a firm date set.
“I’m free Sunday, if that works,” Hunter said.
I nodded, more excited for a Sunday afternoon than I had been in years. “Works for me.”
“Perfect!” Mom said. “I’ll come over right after church and watch Coby. You two can get a late lunch, then head out.”
“Okay. See you Sunday.” He grinned at me before pulling the lobby door closed behind him.
I kept the smile on my face until I knew he was out of earshot and then I glared at Mom. “Thanks for that.”
“You are so welcome, sweetheart.” She started fanning herself again, oblivious to my sarcasm. “He is dreamy.”
She had that right. As over the top as she’d been, I couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing Hunter on Sunday.
Maybe he’d even take me up on my dinner invitation before then. I had an upcoming date with Warren Adams at a fancy restaurant and I couldn’t conjure an ounce of excitement, but the idea that Hunter might come up to the loft for a humble supper at my tiny table had me practically giddy.
Coby tugged on my hand. “Mommy, let’s go.”
“You got it, bud. Let me get locked up.” I shut down my computer and locked the lobby door, hanging up my sign. “You guys are coming up, right?” I asked Mom and Michael. They both nodded and we all followed Coby up the stairs.
The second we walked into the loft, I cringed. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t cleaned before inviting Mom upstairs.
I worked tirelessly to keep the motel spotless but sometimes ran out of steam before I could clean the loft. Mom didn’t care if it was messy, but she also couldn’t stop herself from picking up. She did so much for me already, between watching Coby and helping at the motel, I hated for her to clean my home too.
Just as I’d predicted, she walked in and got right to work as Coby sprinted past us to go to Pickle’s crate by the back door.
“Mom, you don’t need to do that,” I said as she tidied the pile of shoes by the door.
“I don’t mind.” With the shoes arranged, she went right into the living room to fluff the pillows on my charcoal corduroy sectional, which divided the living room from the kitchen on the left. When she started putting toys back into their tan baskets underneath my entertainment center, I hustled to tidy the kitchen before she could beat me to it.
Thankfully, my kitchen was about the size of a thimble so it took me just a few minutes to wipe crumbs off the Formica countertops and load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“I’ll take that washcloth,” Mom said and swiped it from the sink. Then she went to my small, four-seater, circular table off the living room and commenced wiping.
“Mom, I will clean up later. Just leave it.”
She kept wiping. “This will take just a minute. You’ve got so much on your plate, let your mother clean. It’s important to me.”
I sighed. “All right.”
Mom had told me once that helping her kids was her purpose in life. She had forgone a career to stay at home when we were younger, and now that Beau, Michael and I were grown, I think she felt a bit lost at times. We still needed her, me and Coby especially, but it was different than the chaos and constant buzz of having three kids in her home.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Michael, who was poking around my fridge.
Despite my protest, Mom wouldn’t stop cleaning and I couldn’t let her do all the work herself. I walked past the living room and down the hallway to the only bathroom in the loft. Picking up a towel from the linoleum floor, I used it to wipe Coby’s blue toothpaste off the sink. Then I went to my room and swiped clothes from the floor, shoving them in the stackable washer in my bedroom closet. With my room presentable, I walked across the hall to Coby’s room to quickly make his bed and put away the toys he’d pulled out this morning before daycare.
It wasn’t clean clean, but it was an improvement and enough to get Mom to relax and just visit for a while.
On my way back to the living room, my eyes drifted out the window that overlooked the parking lot. They drifted to that window a lot these days, looking for any sign of Hunter. As expected, his truck was gone but that didn’t keep me from checking anyway. I was becoming addicted to the rush in my heart and the flutter in my stomach any time I caught a glance of the man who had intrigued me so.
It had been a long time since I’d felt this way about a man. Not since Everett. Maybe it was a sign that I was finally ready to move on, to commit to a real relationship, not just date casually when forced by my friends. Maybe it was a sign that I was ready to let go of the fears Everett had instilled.
I just hoped that for my next relationship, I wouldn’t pick such a bad apple. That I wouldn’t pick someone so full of poison.
Hunter
Pulling back into the motel, I glanced up at Maisy’s loft, hoping to see her in the window. Her lights were out, no surprise since it was past eleven, but I checked that window every night regardless of the time.
Most men would steer clear of a woman who had kneed them in the balls. Normally, a man would send that woman as far away from him as she could get. Instead, I had become desperate for any chance to be near her, even if that meant just looking at her home and knowing she was inside.
Which meant I was fucked.
I’d had the perfect excuse to cut my stay at The Bitterroot Inn short. Having the owner assault your manhood was a justifiable excuse to cancel a reservation, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to pack my bags.
Maisy Holt was under my skin.
Hell, I’d almost kissed her today.
I’d been in Prescott for less than a week and she was all I could think about. I’d stare at her loft window each night, wondering what she was doing and praying that she wasn’t with another man. Luckily, she didn’t seem like the type to bring random men around her son.
Coby Holt didn’t know how lucky he was to have Maisy as his mother.
Or Marissa as his grandmother.
Grinning as I walked from my truck to my room, I replayed Marissa’s blatant setup. Her insistence had been unnecessary. The second she’d mentioned me taking those pictures, I’d wanted that job so badly it had been nearly impossible to pretend to resist.
I wasn’t doing the job for the photographs. I wanted it for the time spent with Maisy.
This was the perfect opportunity to get to know her before I left. The chance for me to do something special, just for her. This would give me time to memorize her smiling face before she learned the truth and never smiled at me again.