Chapter 7
The moment we walked through the doors of the B&B, Jess grabbed my arm. “I need you,” she said. Her gaze flicked to Dallas’s. “Sorry—it’s urgent.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
But I could tell his eyes were on mine when I walked away, a searing gaze that had my cheeks heating. I yanked off my hat as I followed Jess to the kitchen, trying to get my brain to focus on work instead of the man who’d spent the whole morning with me and hadn’t once made fun of the magic of our town.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, tugging out of Jess’s grip when we reached the room.
Her eyes were wide. “You spent the whole morning with him? Oh-la-la.”
I frowned. “That’s what was so urgent?”
“Well, partly yeah—I mean, he can barely keep his hands to himself. And you—you threw your change in the fountain all those years ago, and wrote a letter and—”
“Jess,” I said, unable to help keep the chiding tone out of my voice. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
She put her hands on her hips. “No? Is that what you’d tell any of our guests? That these little signs don’t mean anything? Because you know how many people find love here. Even your parents—”
“I know, and that was because it was meant to be.”
“How do you know this isn’t?”
“I…” I stuffed the hat in my pocket and unzipped my jacket, not sure how to answer her. I didn’t know anything right now, and I was trying not to think about it because then I’d just second-guess myself instead of living in the moment and enjoying my time with Dallas. “He’s only here for a few days. It’s—I’m just trying to help him with the article.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
I sighed. I wasn’t telling myself anything because anything I told myself wouldn’t make sense. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”
Jess’s voice softened. “I get it. I’m just…excited. Like, maybe this is your happily ever after!”
Despite the warnings in my brain to be cautious, I couldn’t help but respond to the excitement in her voice. I’d let myself think the same thing for a whole ten minutes this morning before shutting down that line of thought. I couldn’t risk getting my hopes up. But hearing it again from Jess made my cheeks warm.
“Okay,” she said, waving her hands like she was trying to erase what she’d just said. “I’m sorry. I won’t get too excited. But I really did need to talk to you.”
“Something wrong?”
She grimaced. “A tree branch fell from the oak out back. Sorry, but it went right through one of your windows.”
“Shit.” I sighed and put my hat back on. “I’ll check it out. You got things here?”
“Definitely. Oh, and we booked the last room for Valentine’s weekend.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
At least there was that, I thought to myself as I went out the back door to the guest house. We hadn’t had a full house in a few months.
But then I saw the branch sticking halfway into the front window of the guest house and grumbled to myself. Trust the magic of the day to be ruined by something as mundane as nature.
I tugged at the branch, trying to pull it from the window. The house needed new windows. And a new roof. And new appliances. Basically, it was falling apart. But I liked staying on site in case there were any issues.
That didn’t stop my gaze from straying to the house on the next lot over. There was still a For Sale sign on the lawn, like it was mocking me. I’d been saving for years to finally buy my own place, but I wasn’t quite there—and I had no idea how I was going afford anything if I kept having to fix up this place without getting as many guests.
That’s why the article was so important. More guests meant the B&B kept running and I had the luxury of knowing I might, someday, be able to afford my own cute house.
With a family. And my own true love.
“Good luck with that,” I muttered to myself.
After another hard tug, the branch came halfway out the window. “Come on,” I said, yanking on it again.
“Can I help?”
I whipped around to find Dallas standing there with a wide smile. He still wore the hat and gloves I’d given him, and he looked completely adorable. And completely off limits.
After all, he was leaving soon. I needed that article, I reminded myself. That was all I needed right now—a good article. Everything else was…just regular life. Things I set aside for the greater good of the B&B.
“Sure,” I said, though part of me was mortified that he was seeing the sad state of my house and a B&B that was clearly not running as smoothly as it looked like on the outside.
We tugged at the same time, and when the branch came loose, we both stumbled back. When Dallas tried to catch my arm, I ended up taking us both down into a fluffy pile of snow.
I lay on my back, the branch halfway on my legs, staring at a sky that had started to cloud over again. “I think it’s going to snow,” I murmured.
His face appeared above mine. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
His hands started running over my body, and my cock went rock hard at the feel of him touching me. “I’m fine,” I choked out.
But he continued to pat until I smiled at him. “I’m really okay. Are you?”
He nodded. “Yes.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “Is this your house?”
“Uh…” Distracted, I bobbed my head and felt snow in the back of my jacket. “Yes.”
“Show me,” he whispered.
And then he was tugging me to my feet, pulling me up like I weighed no more than a feather.
He was in remarkable shape for being a writer. A flash of him sitting at the computer went through my mind. Him wearing glasses as he wrote an article, and then him taking them off as he got up to grab his weights—a muscly break from writing.
“Lewis?”
I blinked. Shit. I couldn’t keep daydreaming about him like this. And I had to stop thinking about his body, even though I was dying for him to press it against mine. I thought he was going in for a kiss in the snow and then the moment was over.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked as I unlocked the door.
“Since my aunt left me the place.” I let him in, automatically waving toward the kitchen counter. “Sorry for the mess. I’m remodeling.”
Always remodeling. Always fixing one thing or another.
“It’s not really…”
He looked over when I didn’t finish. “Not really what? This is a great place. I really like what you’ve done with the cabinets.”
“It’s just temporary—until I can get new ones.”
“Why?” He stepped up to one and rubbed his hand over the surface. “The distressed look is nice.”
Nice. Sure. For someone who clearly had no money to do anything more.
But Dallas continued to look around, complimenting the work I’d done. How cozy it was. When he got to the living room and the small desk I’d set by the back window, he stopped and stared.
I walked up next to him, curious what he was looking at.
Outside, in the distance, were trees covered in snow, a wide field that I’d used to run in as a kid, and a pond.
“This is…” He glanced over and locked eyes with me.
“Not much, I know. It’s small and I’m saving for something else but—”
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say, this is really nice. I’d love a space like this to inspire me to write. You—you’ve made it a home.” His smile widened. “Even if it’s only temporary. Though, if you don’t mind me saying, this place suits you.”
His compliment warmed my cheeks. I stared at my shoes, embarrassed because it was still a small space. And it wasn’t anywhere near what I wanted. “I’ve been saving for the place next door. But…”
“But what?”
I looked back up and plastered on a fake smile. “You know, money’s tight. The B&B always needs something and…I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Maybe I can help ease your mind a little,” he said, his eyes dropping to my lips again.
All coherent thought left my brain every time he did that. The blood shot straight to my groin, reacting to the low timbre of his voice. “What’s that?” I asked, breathless.
“I’m giving your B&B a great review. I’ll recommend staying here and make sure people know this is the place to visit.”
“That’s not—I mean, I wasn’t trying to force you to give—give us a good review—“ I babbled, the embarrassment creeping up again.
“That’s not what this is,” he murmured. And this time his gaze stayed fixed on my lips. “It’s completely professional and well-deserved.”
My mouth opened, hovering between another argument and grateful thanks. And then he continued.
“Then there’s the less professional end of things,” he said.
“What’s…that?”
His lips quirked slightly and he reached out to brush his thumb on my cheek. “How I feel about you.”