“Did someone check-in last night?” Marcy asks as we peer through the crack in the door, staring at the unconscious body splayed over the Egyptian cotton comforter.

I look at her with a questioning gaze. “No, this room should be empty.”

“Well, tell it to that guy’s ass,” she says.

Some say crisis is my middle name. Actually, it’s Rose. But if someone is in a crisis, I’m the go-to girl to solve most of the problems. I live in a small town where everyone knows … well, everyone. We don’t lock our front doors and that includes the main door of the Bed & Breakfast. For starters, it’s a hotel so we have to keep the doors open. Also, no one trespasses in Kentbury.

“We should call the sheriff or maybe your brothers,” Marcy, the housekeeper suggests.

Calling the authorities will start a rumor and before I know it, there’ll be a crowd outside my business. I don’t have time to deal with that aftermath. My brothers never show up when I need them, so I’m not going to bother with calling them.

“Heath’s on his way,” I say, holding onto the wrench that I found in the garage on the way here with both hands.

When I fully open the door to the Royal room, I see the intruder, just like Marcy described him.

Clothes scattered carelessly around the room. Who is he? A serial killer, a stranded traveler or just a drunk who decided to crash in my B&B to avoid an angry wife.

My shoulders tense, and I hold my breath. Maybe I should call the police. Terror surges through my body, but I relax when I feel a big hand squeezing my shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Heath, my best friend, whispers suddenly behind me.

“Is it?” I huff, upset at myself for having such an overactive imagination.

“You had a one-night stand and you want me to kick him out?” His light blue eyes flicker with humor.

“Ah, he thinks he’s funny.” I groan as my eyes sweep over his tall, muscular figure.

People call me to solve their crises and I call him to solve mine—not the sheriff who happens to be my cousin or my brothers who never respond on time.

Heath Miller and I have known each other since before I could walk. Rumor has it that our mothers were best friends since they were children. I wouldn’t know, mine died shortly after I was born. He’s my brother’s best friend as well as mine. Though, sometimes, like right now, he can be a little obtuse. And if I don’t stop him, he’ll crack a few more jokes before he actually does something about the intruder.

“Hey, don’t shoot me, Lee. I’m just trying to understand what’s the big emergency,” he says. “I take it he’s not a guest. So who is he?”

“We have no idea who he is. Marcy came to make sure the room is ready because we have guests coming in later today. She found him like that.”

I scrunch my nose and stare at the bed. The guy is lying down on his stomach. His arms set above his dark brown hair.

Heath frowns, taking the wrench away from me. “How many times have I told you that these are tools, not weapons?”

I refuse to explain to him how the wrench could do some serious damage. Heath always manages to make me edgy. As frustration boils in my belly, I focus on his industrial boots and hold my breath trying to avoid his intoxicating scent. It’s that woodsy aftershave he loves so much and traces of engine oil. It’s so him. I wish I weren’t so attracted to this man. Briefly squeezing my eyes shut, I gather all my strength to pretend he’s not affecting me. That my gut isn’t clenching because my ovaries are about to explode.

There’s a saying that practice makes perfect. I keep practicing and yet; it gets harder to feign that I’m not in love with Heath Miller. Eighteen years faking that I’m immune to the wide-set jaw, strong cheekbones, dark brows, and full lips can’t go to waste.

Do I care about the way his white T-shirt stretches across his chest?

Nope. I don’t care about his taut body. I refuse to acknowledge any emotional or physical attraction to this man. Never mind that every time his light blue eyes focus on me, my heart flutters fast inside my chest.

“Hmm,” he says, as he enters the room and I follow him with my eyes. “Bring a bucket filled with cold water and ice.”

“Why would I do that?” I sneer. “It’ll ruin the bed.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see Bishop cry like a little girl?” He pokes the guy with the wrench.

“Wake up, Harris.” Heath’s rough voice booms around the room. “Why are you here?”

“Ew, Hops?” I turn around, disgusted by the site of my brother’s naked body.

Perfect, just great. I just saw my brother’s bare ass and if this is any indication, he must’ve been kicked out of his place.

“Five more minutes, babe,” Bishop grumbles.

“Handle your friend,” I say to Heath as I walk away. “I need this room, now. We have paying guests arriving soon.”

“You owe me, Lee,” Heath calls after me.

“I don’t owe you shit,” I mumble but I’m sure he doesn’t hear me since I’m almost at the bottom of the stairs.

“You said a bad word,” Cassie, who sits on the foyer couch chides me.

“Clean those ears,” I say playfully. “Your hearing is faulty.”

“Ha, I heard you all right. You said, shit,” she repeats, giving me a mischievous smile, so much like her father’s.

“What have we told you? That’s not a ladylike word, Cassandra,” Heath reprimands his daughter.

“I just repeated what Lee said, Daddy,” Cassie tattletales on me.

“I didn’t know you brought her along.” Or I would have watched my fucking language.

“It’s Saturday and I can’t stay at home alone.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not old enough. He’s going to have me do homework in his office while he works on a car.”

“You can always hang out with me,” I suggest.

“You’re such a bad influence, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Heath jokes.

“She doesn’t say shit much, only mouths fuck a lot,” Cassie says.

I glare at her. “I thought we were friends.”

“He says bad words too. You should make him put a hundred dollars in the swear jar every week,” she accuses her dad and I’m pretty sure she’s having a blast with us.

“We need to talk.” Heath’s voice is a little more stern than usual.

I can’t help but laugh when I realized he’s biting a smirk.

“Oh my,” I say, clutching my necklace. “You’re breaking up with me? I thought we had a good thing going on between us. Was it my scones? I thought you loved maple scones.”

“Do you have any?” He gives me a boyish smile.

“Nope, today we have cranberry scones. I can make you some coffee and you can tell dear Knightly what’s bothering you.”

“Can I have pancakes for breakfast, please?” Cassie requests.

“You haven’t had breakfast?” I frown.

“It’s barely eight o’clock, and you called with an emergency. Of course, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

Cassie points at her dad. “He promised you’d make pancakes for us.”

“He did, huh?” I take her hand the same way I used to when she was a tumbling toddler. “You are going to help me, though,” I say. “If we’re lucky, Gramps might share some of his liquid gold with us.”

Her light blue eyes widen, and they crinkle with excitement. “Do you think we can make maple candy?”

“How about tomorrow?” I offer. “Today’s a pretty busy day.”

“How so?” Heath looks around the empty dining room.

“There’s a bride-to-be coming to check out the place with her parents and her in-laws.”

“Here? Not the lodge?”

“Ski resort,” I correct him.

Last year, Kingston, my oldest brother, decided to rebrand our businesses and started with the lodge. We now call it the Ski Resort at the Harris Estate. Well, he also changed the furniture and renovated the entire building.

Kingston wishes he could renovate the Victorian home where we run a B&B, but I won’t let him. It’s a historical building that’s been in the Harris family for five generations. We’ve owned the land where the farm, the orchard, the gift shop, the house, and the lodge stand, and have since the late eighteen hundreds.

“This bride wants to find the perfect spot for the wedding. A guest referred the B&B and the farm. Not that Dad will let that happen.”

“The farm isn’t a wedding destination,” my father’s voice booms through the kitchen even before he steps foot inside it. “That’s what the lodge is for.”

“Ski resort,” I correct him, gritting my teeth.

“Mr. Harris.” Heath nods.

“Grampa Harry,” Cassie says as she runs to Dad.

“I didn’t know my little girl was here.” He hugs her and twirls her around the kitchen.

“Can we make maple candies?” she asks.

I glare at Heath for this one. She’s just as stubborn as her father. They take the word no as a challenge. Their motto is, I’ll make it happen.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but we can’t today. We have a full house, and we have to be scarce from the premises.” Dad frowns, he’s pretty upset at the possibility of offering new venues.

Financially, it means that we can book two or three events at once. If Kingston buys the vineyard next door, the possibilities just continue growing. Dad just doesn’t see it that way.  

“Can I come with you?” Cassie grins at him.

“I’ll be at the ski resort,” Dad says, proud that he said the right name this time. “If your father lets you, we can ski all morning. Then, I’ll take you to the dining room for lunch and maybe some hot chocolate. We can spend the rest of the afternoon watching movies.”

“And eating popcorn?” she suggests, planning her entire schedule for the weekend. I’m almost sure that later she’s going to ask if she can stay at my house so tomorrow morning, she can go skiing again after brunch.

“If that’s okay with you, sir,” Heath agrees.

“She’s always welcome to hang around with us. You guys are like part of the family, Heath,” Dad mentions and looks at me. “What’s for breakfast?”

They’re not family, I want to clarify. Not because I don’t want them to be, but, because well, they’re just friends. This is the kind of situation that I hate when I feel too comfortable with Cassie and Heath. I want them to be my family. My husband, my child, and my future. Sometimes it seems like I mean a lot more to Heath and other times he reminds me I’m just one of the guys.

Bishop has encouraged me to talk to Heath and find out where I stand. Kingston insists that I should move on with my life. They’re Heath’s best friends and know him as well as I do. Maybe they’re right. Either way, I know that Heath and I will never be a couple. I have to grow out of my teenage crush and find a way to fall out of love. If only I knew how.

I glance at Heath who is looking at his phone. His deep dimple shows as he smiles at whatever he’s watching. Maybe he’s scoring a date for tonight. My heart shrinks with disappointment. Yet, my pulse races as his light blue eyes find me. I melt when he winks.

“That new picture that you added to your Instagram of you and Byron during your morning jog is cute.”

I bite my lip, staring at his mouth, craving it, and wishing to know how he kisses. My gaze lowers to his sculpted chest and tattooed arms. He’s dreamy. No wonder women flock to him like bees to honey. I know one thing that they don’t; Heath Miller doesn’t do relationships.

Heath looks around the kitchen. “Where is the mutt?”

“Byron isn’t a mutt, Daddy. He’s a Newfoundland. It took us a long time to find him, remember?” Cassie corrects him.

They gifted him to me a couple of years ago for my thirtieth birthday.

“He’s at the barn, with the Alpacas,” I respond.

“Lee, what are we having for breakfast?” Dad repeats.

“Cereal?”

“Pancakes,” Cassie says, frowning at me. “We’re making pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon,” Cassie lists, sounding like she is already planning a big meal.

“Sounds like a treat,” Dad says, smiling at me.

“It’s not a holiday, people,” I complain.

My family doesn’t understand that this place has to be ready for the guests in a couple of hours. I’ll have to bake several batches of chocolate chip cookies to replace the stench of bacon. Why don’t they go to the resort for breakfast? I glare at them but the anger subsides when Heath reaches out for my hand and squeezes it.

It’s okay, he mouths.

“Come on, I’ll help you,” Heath offers, heading to the industrial refrigerator.