Mia drove past rolling green hills and fields dotted with knotted apple trees, ice-cream stands, and white picket fences holding herds of cows. The scent of fertilizer and earth drifted through the vents, even though her windows were tightly closed and the air conditioner set at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees. The sky was a beautiful pale blue, stuffed with round, puffy clouds. At one point, she’d caught a rainbow spilling from earth’s ceiling to cast myriad bright colors in a perfect arch stretched in the distance, urging her forward into a land of happiness.
It was official.
She’d arrived in hell.
Muttering under her breath, she consulted her Waze app briefly before making the turn on Route 32. She was officially en route to meet a teenage girl who probably already resented her. Seemed Chloe’s final act of rebellion was refusing to let Mia pick her up. Her friends were dropping her off at three p.m. to start her servitude, and Mia wanted to arrive early to get settled.
A touch of depression pressed down on her. She turned Adam Levine up higher on the radio, but even his delicious voice wasn’t helping. Maybe she’d eat the last half of her KIND bar? Her stomach growled on cue, but after calculating the calories, especially with her dinner unknown, it’d be best to keep it for emergencies.
What would she do if the town had no vegan or vegetarian options? Or gluten free?
What would happen if the B & B only served carbohydrates like gravy and biscuits and grits?
But maybe that was the South. At this point, it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t the city, everything else was subpar and dangerous. She refused to be a size fatter at the end of summer because she was stuck in a town overrun by potatoes and cheese.
Or was that Wisconsin?
Ah, hell, it didn’t matter. She better be close, though. She’d been driving for almost three hours in a crappy rented Kia, and she needed to stretch. She glanced at her Waze app again, hoping to see that blinking red dot announcing her arrival, when the screen suddenly went blank.
No signal.
Smothering a curse, she glared at the mountains blocking her signal and punched some buttons, trying to get it back up. After a few minutes, she realized she was left both directionless and without Levine’s voice to soothe her nerves. Even the rental-car company was cursing her today. They’d given away her gorgeous convertible in a mishap and stuck her with a Kia with no GPS.
Okay, people did this all the time before the internet. Not that she could read a map. The last time she’d glanced at Waze, she had noted the place was off a funny-sounding road. Of course, if they’d done any type of decent marketing, there would’ve been signs long ago leading her right to it.
Guess they didn’t believe in advertising.
After more driving through uniform country roads and passing the same damn hills and cows, she spotted a crooked sign that read GOOSEY DRIVE.
That sounds right! Yes, that was the funny-sounding name. She was on the right path.
Puffing up with pride over her memory skills, she followed the road, noticing a single unpaved lane winding toward the left. It was heavily wooded but definitely a road. As she got closer, she saw a tiny sign that said INN HORSE TRAIL.
Yes. The inn is part of a rescue farm, so this must be it.
The Kia bumped along potholes, mud, and scattered brush blocking the lane. Her temper grew as she drove. How was a guest able to find this place? Why on earth wasn’t it paved and well marked? Had she been dropped into one of those horrid Wrong Turn movies to find herself being chased by deformed country bumpkins?
Finally, the car jerked to a halt at the end of the path. She stared openmouthed at the tiny bungalow in front of her.
Holy shit.
This was the place she was staying at?
Horror unfolded. It wasn’t even Victorian. It had no sprawling front porch that served tea and cookies. It was just a mud-brown house with standard-issue windows, a basic concrete stoop, and a plain-beige door. No cheery potted geraniums or herbal gardens or quirky antiques like she’d imagined a B & B to have. Instead, there was a bunch of chickens roaming around, squawking and pecking at the unpaved ground. No real parking lot. Just a battered black truck parked in front. Was she the only guest?
And if so, now she knew why.
She was going to have a panic attack.
Clutching the door handle in a merciless grip, she dragged in deep breaths and tried to calm herself. Maybe the inside was amazing. Maybe it was a lesson so she’d learn the motto “Don’t be fooled by the surface, because great things lie beneath.” Or in this case, inside.
She gritted her teeth and got out of the car, giving the chickens a wary glance. Her Prada shoes were open toed. Could chickens draw blood if they pecked at her toes? She stilled, watching them carefully, but they didn’t seem interested in a stranger, so she began to walk toward the house. Her heels sank into the mud, aggravating her even more. Why wasn’t anyone here to take her luggage or greet her?
Worst. B & B. Ever.
“Hello?” she called out. “Anyone around?”
The answer was not what she expected.
From behind the dirty, red coop thing, a massive chicken monster appeared in response to her call. She froze, mouth opening in horror, staring at the thing that seemed like a scary crossover of animal-genetic madness.
He had a giant head covered in crazy white feathers, sticking out from every angle like in one of those memes on her Facebook newsfeed. Beady eyes focused on her with sheer fowl suspicion. Fat, red jowls hung down beside his massive beak. His body was a mottled, inky black that ended with tremendous clawed feet.
“Umm, nice chicken?”
A pissed-off sound emitted from the creature’s beak, and he began lurching forward in a drunken walk of doom. She backed up, hands out, terrified she would die of a chicken attack in the backwoods, where no one would find her.
“Stay away from me!” she warned. “I mean it. I’ll make you the main course of my Thanksgiving, you freak!”
The thing clucked harder, beginning to flap his wings in crazed motions, his long, curly clawed toes moving faster toward her, beak open, ready for the kill.
She screamed.
“Hei Hei!” The masculine voice snapped through the air in command. The chicken monster stopped midcharge, cranking its feathery head toward the house. “Leave her alone.”
The chicken let out a murderous shriek.
“Wanna be left out this winter so your feathers freeze? I mean it, Hei Hei, I won’t save you like Harper. Go back and finish your lunch.”
Feathers shook. With one last glance at her that promised retribution, the chicken monster disappeared back behind the house. The man who saved her propped his hands on his hips and didn’t budge. “Sorry, he’s a bit temperamental. Can I help you?”
The long howl of a dog made her jump back. What now? Was this place a zoo? A black Lab came racing out with one intention: to take her down. She squared her shoulders, stood her ground, and prayed he or she was friendly.
He or she was. The dog bounded around her without jumping up, seeming thrilled to have some company. She reached down and pet the dog. At least one animal made sense out here. She’d always loved dogs. Not cats. Not chickens. Not horses or squirrels or chipmunks or snakes. Just dogs.
The man whistled. “Wheezy, come here. She’s had enough of the animal-crew welcome.” The dog obeyed, trotting back to his or her master and settling down near his feet. “Let’s try this again. Can I help you?”
Her words seemed to drift away. She stared at him in total fascination, her mind short circuiting the endless possibilities of this man.
She’d just met a semihot Grizzly Adams.
The man was tall. Super tall—at least six four. Feet braced apart, hands on hips, he towered with an impressive presence, clad in worn, tight jeans and a basic black T-shirt that stretched over his muscular build. Russet-colored hair curled wildly over his brow and brushed the nape of his neck. A striking beard hugged his jaw and was longer than the usual goatee, bordering on wild. His features were an odd slashing of crude bone structure that kept him from ever looking pretty or soft. But his eyes. She’d never seen anything like them.
A pale ice blue, with a piercing intensity that froze her in place. The startling contrast of light and dark was mesmerizing. She wasn’t usually a fan of gingers or beards, but his entire presence as a whole gave her a funny lurch in her tummy.
There were no laugh lines to spot. No humor or warmth in his eyes. This man had seen things, done things, and wasn’t about to share them with anyone.
“Miss? Are you lost?”
She shook off her odd thoughts and reconnected with the land of the living. Also, her temper. This entire day had been craptastic. “I’m here to check in. I don’t know what type of place you run here, but the roads are atrocious, and being greeted by a psychopath chicken won’t get you a five-star rating on Yelp.”
His brow arched. “Check-in’s not till three p.m.”
She pressed her lips together and prayed for patience. “I know that. I’m early. That doesn’t excuse your setup. Now, if you can take my luggage from the car, get me some water with lemon, and show me to my room, I’d be grateful.”
“I don’t work here.”
Her temper frayed. “Then can you get me someone who does before I lose my shit?”
Those eyes narrowed. “You’re from the city, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m exhausted, and hot, and cranky, so I’d appreciate some help.”
“This isn’t the B & B. You must’ve taken a wrong turn.”
Relief shot through her, followed by annoyance. “Well, I’m relieved, since this place looks like a nightmare, but I did follow the sign. Why isn’t anything marked properly here?”
“It is. It clearly states Inn Horse Trail.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. So this is where the horse people sleep?”
He just stared at her, his gaze flicking from her head to her toes in complete dismissal. “Nah, they just sleep in the barns. The hay is super soft. They even have an outhouse.”
She ignored his comment, knowing he was making fun of her. Yes, she was acting bitchy, but she hadn’t eaten the last half of her KIND bar, and her stomach was ravenous. She was damn hangry. “I don’t have time to exchange clever banter with you. Just show me where the inn is, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Go out the way you came from. Take a left. Go farther down about half a mile, and you’ll see the right sign.”
She forced a fake smile, already disliking him as much as the chicken. “Thanks so much for your help.”
He cocked his head. His drawl was as sarcastic as her comment. “No problem, princess.”
With one last withering look, she got into the car and bumped her way back to the road, leaving the horrible man and cabin and chicken behind her. Oh, she’d dealt with plenty of his kind in her years of PR. Men who thought women who enjoyed nice things were entitled and silly. Men who had such big egos, they couldn’t comprehend a successful woman clearly stating what she wanted and how she wanted it. She shuddered. He probably mansplained to his girlfriend.
No, thank you.
At least she’d never have to see him again.
She finally made it to the correct turn and parked in the spacious lot of the Robin’s Nest B & B. Lord, even the name gave her a cavity. But she had to admit the spread was beautifully set up, lending a fairytale-and-rustic charm. From the gorgeous pop of the robin’s-egg blue shutters and door, to the huge wraparound porch outfitted with wicker rockers and tables, the place was classic B & B. A pink garden gnome peeked from his spot on the front lawn, and the sound of merry wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. Tulips, geraniums, and roses mixed together and filled the spaces between lush green lawn and old, giant trees. This time, when she climbed the front steps, no animal attacked her. A two-tiered antique cart was already set out with chunky chocolate-chip cookies and a pitcher of tea. She practically had to bite her fingers to stop them from snatching one of the sugary sweets, but she allowed herself one cup of tea. The cold brew slid down her throat, immediately quenching her thirst. She gave a sigh of pleasure. “Now that’s much better,” she murmured to herself.
She was about to open the door when a willowy strawberry blonde spotted her through the screen. “Oh my, I didn’t hear you pull up. Are you Mia Thrush?”
Her tension began to ease from her shoulder. “Yes. Chloe’s arriving a bit later, so I thought I’d get here a little early. Is that a problem?”
The woman stepped outside, waving her graceful fingers in the air. “Of course not! Check-in’s at three p.m. but we never turn away a guest. Since its midweek, we’re empty at the moment, but we’ll have a full house come Friday. My name is Ophelia, and I run the Robin’s Nest. Why don’t I grab your luggage and get you settled so you can relax a bit. Did you have a long drive?”
“Over three hours. Then I got lost, so I’m a bit stressed out. I’m surprised there were no clearly marked signs.”
“You poor thing. And yes, these country roads aren’t known for their signage. Just sit down and drink your tea. It’s a hot day.”
Ophelia floated down the stairs and left before Mia could utter another word. In record time, she carted her two overstuffed Luis Vuitton suitcases like they weighed nothing and placed them at Mia’s feet with a smile. “I can give you a tour later, but if you’ll fill out some forms, you can settle in. Follow me.”
The scent of vanilla and chocolate filled the air as she entered. Her breath caught. It was truly beautiful. Maybe not like the Plaza or Waldorf, but there was a thoughtfulness to the decor and how the space was used that Mia appreciated. The oak floors set off the pale-yellow walls, and the high ceiling held a gorgeous golden waterfall chandelier. Tapestry rugs were set around the space in rich oriental colors. A brick fireplace took up one wall, where cozy chairs and sofas were positioned in a half circle. Antique lamps and pine furniture added to the custom decor.
Ophelia walked over to an old-fashioned writing desk that held a computer and a wooden organizer with bunches of neatly filed papers. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Mia Thrush and Chloe Lake. Both staying till August. And I see Chloe will be helping out on the horse farm.”
Mia drew in a breath. “That’s correct. I’ll be her guardian for the summer.”
A slight frown creased the woman’s brow. “You’re not her mother, then?”
“No. Her mother passed away, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Genuine sympathy glinted in her powder-blue eyes.
“Thank you. I’m her . . . aunt.” The sentence choked out of her mouth. “Well, I’m such a close family friend, I’ve been dubbed as her honorary aunt.” She hoped she carried that off, and Ophelia nodded and smiled. “Her father was unable to be here due to work obligations, so I’ll be taking care of things. Do you know how many hours she has to work daily?”
“My brother, Ethan, will be in charge of the work schedule. He’ll be coming by later to meet you both.”
“I appreciate it.”
“We’ll do our best to make you happy during your stay. Breakfast is served daily in the main dining room, but guests like to take it out on the porch. You can use the back deck or even sit in the gardens—wherever you feel comfortable. Do you have any allergies? Food limitations?”
“I’d prefer meals with no carbs or processed sugar.”
Ophelia nodded. “I’ll be sure to put out fresh fruit, yogurt, and eggs.”
“Egg whites?”
“Of course. Cookies and tea are served at one p.m. on the porch. Coffee and water are always available. Since you’re one of our long-term residents, I’ve placed you in a room with a small refrigerator.”
“I prefer green tea, if it’s not a problem. Is there a place I can get a skinny vanilla latte and a kale shake?”
“Yes, there’s a grocery store in town, along with some fruit-and-vegetable markets, so anything you need should be easy to get to. We have some wonderful cafés that serve blended organic coffee. Since summer is our high time, we serve snacks and wine at six. We have a few local delivery places—I’ve placed all the menus in this folder for you. Information on everything at the inn and attached farm, including horseback-riding lessons, is in there. Do you have any questions?”
“I’ll be working every day on my laptop. I’m hoping Wi-Fi won’t be a problem?”
“We’ve had no issues, so you should be fine.”
Some of the tension eased. Ophelia seemed competent and ready to meet her needs. “Great, thank you.”
“I’ll show you your room.” Ophelia grabbed the suitcases, lifted both hands, and began the walk up the staircase. “I put you on the second floor. We don’t have an elevator, so I hope that’s not a problem.”
“That’s fine.”
Ophelia inserted an old-fashioned key into the lock of the Cardinal Room and swung open the door. The high four-poster bed had a sheer lace curtain, fluffy pillows, and a quilt with embroidered cream-and-cornflower-blue flowers. A trunk with hand-painted roses sat at the foot of the bed. Daisies were scattered in vases, and the furniture was a light oak, adding to the airiness of the room. It was spacious, with a stone fireplace, large windows, and small desk for working.
“I love it,” Mia said simply, peeking her head into the en suite bath. A claw-footed tub was the main star, with the color components of clean white and soft blue carried through with the towels, rugs, and tile. A lighted makeup mirror and stool sat in the right corner.
“Good, I’m glad. Housekeeping comes daily, but you can always put the ‘Privacy’ sign on the knob by ten a.m. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll buzz you when Chloe gets here.”
The door shut, and the room was shrouded in silence. Mia sat on the edge of the bed. Exhaustion seeped into her muscles. With a groan, she lay back on the overstuffed pillow and closed her eyes. There was so much to do. Unpack and get organized. Call into the office. Catch up on emails and work for her other clients. Go shopping for low-calorie food before she ate the cookies. And make a good first impression on Lake’s daughter. Maybe even get Chloe to like her. At least a little bit.
She needed a minute. Maybe two. If she rested, her mind would become strong again, and her tigress instinct would resurge.
Just a few minutes.
The knock pierced through the fog. Mia shot up out of bed, looking around wildly until she remembered where she was. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she realized over an hour had passed.
Now that’s what she called a power nap.
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she walked across the room and opened the door.
“Hey.”
The greeting came from black-painted lips. Mia blinked, taking in Lake’s daughter and wondering if she could find another job so she could get the hell out of Dodge. This wasn’t the girl she’d expected to meet. What happened?
The multiple pictures on Lake’s phone and desk showed a girl with long, dark hair and intense blue eyes, with a fresh-faced look of youth. She’d been dressed in the all-American way of teens—jeans and a T-shirt.
This girl still had long, straight hair, but it was now colored bright purple. A diamond glinted from her nose piercing, and a ring winked from her eyebrow. Her features reminded Mia of Jonathan—defined cheekbones, strong jawline, and high-arched brows. She had the same deep blue eyes, except hers were masked by so many coats of mascara, Mia was amazed she could see. Her outfit consisted of ragged denim shorts that barely covered her privates, a skimpy black Ed Hardy tank that screamed LOVE HURTS, and black combat boots. A tat of a skull was inked on her left arm. She was stunning and badass and terrifying all in one. Mia had never experienced the true rebel teen years, choosing to follow the good-girl path, get into good colleges, and be the perfect model daughter.
Mia swallowed. “Hey, Chloe, I’m Mia Thrush. I’m sorry—Ophelia was supposed to call me when you arrived.”
The girl shrugged. “I told her I’d come up. My room is next to yours, so you can jail me properly.”
“Umm, right. Do you like it?”
Another shrug. “Not really, but it doesn’t matter. There’s so many flowers on my bed, I’m afraid they’ll strangle me in my sleep.”
She laughed. “Yeah, there’s definitely a Victorian-type theme going on. Come on in. We can chat a bit.”
Chloe strode over on long, lean legs, the denim exposing part of her ass. Lake would have a heart attack if he saw her walking around in those clothes. Is that why she did it? When had she changed her style?
Mia grabbed two bottles of water that had been placed in the room and handed one to her. Nerves danced in her stomach. It was ridiculous to be intimated by a young girl, yet here she was, trying not to stutter. She dragged in a breath and tried to act confident and like a damn grown-up.
“Your dad filled me in on everything. You know I help him run his social media campaign, and it’s a critical time for the election process. We’re hoping to keep your community service out of the news, and we’ve done the job so far, but we need your help. I’m here to make things easier on you and help you this summer.”
Chloe snorted. “You’re here ’cause dear old Dad is too busy, and he hired you as my watchdog. I know the drill. Believe me, I’ve been living it for way too long.” Her voice held a bitter edge. She began picking at her black nails, brows creased in a frown. The resemblance to Jonathan was uncanny. Mia’s heart softened a bit as she stared at his daughter. Losing a mother at her age was devastating, and losing her father to an election process was a double hit.
“We’re both stuck here for the summer together,” Mia pointed out. “We both have jobs to do. Personally, I’m up for being open and getting to know one another before you decide if I suck.”
The girl kept picking at her thumb, refusing to look up. Mia felt as if they were on the verge of a tentative agreement that was crucial. “You want to try to be friends?” Chloe asked.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“So if something happens, and I ask you not to tell my dad, you’d respect my wishes? Try to help me?”
“No.” Chloe lifted her head and stared back in surprise. “I tell your dad everything. He’s your parent, not me, and I respect your relationship. Look, Chloe, I won’t be a pawn in the game with you and your dad. I know things are tough right now, and I’m not going to even try to understand what it’s like to lose your mom and get dragged into the political arena because of your dad. But I don’t play sides. I’m here because your dad needs you to finish your community service and not get into any more trouble this summer. Whatever happens, I tell him the truth. And if I’m worried, I’ll call him.”
The girl narrowed her gaze, suspicion glinting deep. “You’re involved with my dad, aren’t you?”
Mia gasped. “No! I swear to you, I am not involved with your father in any way, shape, or form. He’s my client, and I respect him. And though you probably don’t want to hear it, I know he loves you. I know he loved your mom. I know he’s a wreck about not being here with you for the summer, and he refused to have anyone else come out here because I’ve earned his trust. And I won’t lie to you. About anything. I swear.”
She waited for the verdict. Waited for Chloe to say something snarky and stamp out and begin the whole vicious cycle that would set off the summer.
Instead, the girl nodded. “Okay. That’s fair.”
Mia tried not to let her mouth drop open in surprise. “Good. Now, we’re meeting your boss in a few, and then I say we grab some dinner. I’ve told everyone I’m your honorary aunt—a family friend who earned the title. I think it makes things easier to explain our summer stay.”
The girl went back to her shrugs. “Sure.”
“Cool.”
Mia tried not to grin like a silly fool. She knew it was only round one in a very long match, but she’d also learned a valuable lesson from her father that served her well:
Celebrate every small victory in life. You never know when they’d come around again.