Hope
The waitress, whose name is Selena, gives me some advice on where to stay. When I mention that I’m planning on grabbing a room at the motel across the road, she gently suggests I try a nearby bed and breakfast run by one of her aunts. I’m tempted to ask how many relatives she has in town, but I don’t. She’s being gracious, and I don’t want to ruin it by acting nosy. There will be plenty of time for that later.
“It’s cozy,” she says. “I’ll call her right now and tell her to give you the friends-and-family discount.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’m genuinely grateful. I’m not used to people being kind to me, especially strangers. I pay my bill, leave a generous tip, and head back to my car. Selena’s directions are precise and soon I’ve turned off Main street onto a little side road.
Cute cottage-style houses line the road, interspersed with the occasional larger Victorian. Finally, I come across a large house that I would describe as a mansion, but that is really a multi-story Victorian house, complete with turrets.
A sign in the front yard reads The Bee’s Knees.
“Welcome to Honeypot,” I murmur, and grab my keys and wallet. I climb the steps to the front porch and lift my hand to knock, but before I can, the door flies open.
“You must be Hope!” A friendly older woman greets me. Her grey hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a button-down blouse with a comfortable-looking pair of jeans. The first thing that pops into my head is home. She reminds me of my mother. She reminds me of family, of my childhood, and I bite back the tears that threaten to spill over.
“The one and only,” I answer cheerfully, and the woman ushers me inside. We’re in a spacious foyer with a large staircase that takes up most of the area. To the right is a sitting room and to the left is the dining area.
“Come on in,” she points to the sitting room. “Let’s talk rooms.”
I take a seat on a comfortable blue sofa and lean back.
“Lovely place,” I comment. “I bet you have a lot of fun here.” One side of the room has a bunch of instruments, including a piano and a guitar.
“Oh, some of the guests like to get a bit noisy sometimes. Don’t worry, though. I only let them play on the weekends. Nothing you need to feel concerned about. I know my guests need their beauty sleep and that’s my first priority.”
I like this woman already.
“Now, Selena said you have an interview tomorrow? That’s just fine. If you’re going to be working with the Blair brothers, they do have cottages on their property for employees, so they’ll probably give you a place to stay if they choose you, but let’s go ahead and book you for two nights, just in case they don’t decide right away. Sound good, honey?”
“Perfect,” I say. She shows me the prices for the different rooms and I choose the cheapest one. She takes off 30% and I can’t believe her generosity.
“No big deal, honey. We take care of our own around here and you really made an impression with Selena. She doesn’t take kindly to just anyone, so I want to make sure you have a good experience in our little town, no matter how long you might be here for.”
After I pay Mrs. Marsh, I retrieve a small bag from my car. I’m glad I thought ahead enough to pack a bag for my first few days. Otherwise I’d be sorting through different boxes trying to find something appropriate to wear.
I head back inside and she shows me to my room, but doesn’t come inside.
“If you need anything at all, I’ll be up until about 10:00,” she tells me. “After that, only come get me if it’s an emergency. All right, dear?”
“Of course,” I tell her. She points to the end of the hall where there’s a single door decorated with a wreath.
“That’s my room. Take care, now, hon, and remember that breakfast is between six and nine. Any later than that, and you’re on your own.”
I thank her once more, then go into my room and close the door. I flip the lock and turn back around to take in my new space. There’s a large bed against one wall and a fireplace against the opposite. I love fires, but it’s the beginning of summer, so I won’t be using it. There’s a dresser against the back wall and the entrance to my private bathroom.
Convenient.
I’ve never stayed at a bed and breakfast before, but I had pictured something more communal, like shared bathrooms. I’m glad I have a space that’s all my own. Closing the blinds, I quickly strip down and head into the bathroom to soak.
The tub is huge. It’s more like a hot tub than a bathtub. Three people could easily fit inside. Maybe the people in Honeypot are kinkier than I thought. Blushing, I picture a mini-orgy in the tub. Hands groping, pulling hair, spanking, teasing, touching… Suddenly, I’m sad I’m staying alone tonight.
Mrs. Marsh seemed nice enough and even a bit conservative, but you never know what people are secretly like.
You just don’t know.
Maybe this B&B is secretly used for sexcapades and naughty weekends. The thought excites me more than it should.
The tub fills quickly and I slip into the water. I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips. The water feels so good against my skin. I’m much more sore than I planned to be. Who knew that a lengthy road trip would feel more like a trip to the gym than a relaxing drive?
Fighting back the urge to think about all I left behind, I close my eyes. Tomorrow is a new beginning. It’s a fresh start. No one in Honeypot knows anything about me. No one knows my history, my past, my story.
No one knows how my boyfriend completely humiliated.
Most importantly, no one knows that it was all my fault.
If only I didn’t have such stupid, prudish ideas about love. I should have just sucked it up and given Jacob what he wanted. After all, Margaret didn’t seem to have a problem spreading her legs. What was my excuse?
Maybe I just never felt that zing with Jake. I never felt that connection. I liked being with him and I told him that I loved him, but I never really felt like I was in love. It wasn’t the way people described love to me, anyway.
Ugh.
At least the work at the Blair Ranch sounds like it’ll take up all of my time. I can’t imagine ranching is an easy job. Even though the ad just said the position is for an “assistant,” I imagine landing it will keep me pretty busy.
Good.
The last thing I need to do is spend my time feeling sorry for myself. No, I’m ready to move on. Jake made his choice and so did Margaret. While I will always miss her and her friendship, I have to wonder why they didn’t just tell me.
Am I that bad of a person?
Maybe if she had told me, we could have salvaged the relationship. Maybe if she had admitted the truth, if she had been honest, then Jake and I could have stayed friends.
But neither one of them told me.
It was lie after lie after lie.
Now my entire world has been uprooted.
By the time I’m done thinking, the water is cold and my fingers are wrinkled. Reluctantly, I climb out of the tub and dry myself, then climb into bed buck naked.
The mattress is the softest one I’ve ever been on and within minutes, I’m fast asleep, dreaming of a world without my stupid problems.
**
When I wake up, I take a quick shower, then blow-dry my hair. I imagine that as soon as I’m out in the hot, sticky air, everything will frizz over, but as of right now, I look great. Quickly, I braid my long blonde locks neatly and spray some hairspray on top. That should keep the frizzles at bay, at least for an hour or two.
Mrs. Marsh was pretty direct about being on time for breakfast, so I grab my purse and scurry downstairs at 7:30. When I reach the bottom of the steps, I take a big, long whiff of the scent that’s wafting from the kitchen.
“Good, right?” A voice says. A man is standing in the doorway and he’s chuckling at my display of hunger. I should be embarrassed, but instead I’m completely scoping him out. Why are there so many sexy men in this town? First the cop and now this guy. Seriously, does Honeypot only produce models? Even the women are freaking gorgeous.
“It smells delicious,” I admit sheepishly. “Although I might be biased since I haven’t eaten since last night.”
“You aren’t biased at all,” the man assures me. “Mrs. Marsh makes the best breakfast in all of Honeypot.”
“Are you a guest here?” I ask him, but the man shakes his head.
“Nope. I’m her son, Sawyer.
“But you called her Mrs. Marsh,” I insist, and Sawyer just grins.
“Well, you know. Everyone else does, so sometimes I slip up. What brings you to town?”
“I have a job interview,” I tell him. “At the Blair Ranch. Do you know it?”
“I know it,” he says, but doesn’t say anything else. Sawyer doesn’t offer me a “good luck” or a “break a leg.” Instead, he jaunts past me, tugging playfully on the end of my hair as he passes, and I’m filled with sudden excitement and nervousness.
Are all the eligible bachelors in Honeypot this bold about touching women? Are they all so confident in their flirting? I think of the cop yesterday who told me wearing a low-cut shirt won’t hurt. While most women would find the comment sexist or inappropriate, it only turns me on.
I haven’t felt sexy in a long time. Jake certainly never made me feel sexy and nobody is going to feel attractive when their man finds someone better. Maybe I’m having post-relationship blues or single girl confidence issues, but Sawyer made me feel young and carefree when he tugged on my braid.
My feet move of their own accord into the dining room, where a buffet table has been set up with biscuits, gravy, hash browns, scrambled eggs, waffles, and sausages. I grab a plate and fill it, then find a seat at an empty table to start digging in.
“Coffee?” Sawyer asks, appearing at my table with a coffee pot.
“I thought you were here for breakfast,” I say.
“Well, Mrs. Marsh puts me to work.”
“You mean Mom.”
“Yes. Mom puts me to work.”
“Coffee would be great,” I say. He pours me a mug, then heads back into what I assume is the kitchen, and I practically devour my food. When I’m finished, I carry my dirty dishes into the kitchen and thank Mrs. Marsh for the breakfast.
“No problem at all, dear,” she says with a wink. “Good luck today with the interview.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, only suddenly I’m feeling very nervous. This really is my one shot at freedom. If I don’t get this job, I’m going to have to move back to Holbrook and live with friends or relatives until I can figure something out. Plus, there would be the entire issue of gas money to get home. I need this job. I need Honeypot.
Maybe moving to a new place to escape a bad situation is a horrible idea, but right now, it’s the best I’ve got.
I have a little bit of time before my interview, so I hop in my car and explore the town a little bit. Honeypot is just as cute and dainty in the daytime as it was at night. There are few cars and few people walking around, but the buildings are all kept up. I pass one house where there are kids playing in the yard and another where a father and son are playing catch.
Memories of my own childhood flash by, but I push those thoughts away. They’re all filled with adventures I shared with Margaret, and that time has passed. I always trusted her with everything, and the truth is that she might not be a bad person. Never did I ever consider her to be bad or naughty or evil, not until I walked in on her with Jacob.
Now it’s hard for me to sort through the pain.
So I want to say that she’s a bad person, but it could just be the trauma talking. She might actually be a nice girl, deep down.
I just don’t know anymore.
And to be honest, I don’t care enough to find out.
My alarm beeps, reminding me that it’s almost time for the interview, so I punch the address into my GPS and turn the car toward the south side of town. It’s time to impress some ranchers.
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