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~Cora~
“SO, DO YOU WANT TO go on an adventure today?” I looked at Dixon at the breakfast bar, after he’d spent the night at my place again. His hair was mussed but his smile filled me with joy.
“Well, what kind of adventure? Will I need to be prepared to save you from broken heels and twisted ankles? Or are we going really wild and doing some bungee-jumping?” He winked and pulled me in closer.
The warmth of his palms seeped through my T-shirt, and I liked the way it felt to be in his arms once more. Memories of last night had me heating up, and a blush must have landed on my face.
“Hmm...maybe you’re talking a sexy-time adventure, by the way your face is turning a pretty shade of red, my little cinnamon fireball.” He leaned over and gave me what might have been a quick kiss...until I turned up the heat and gave his bottom lip a little suck.
I pulled back and looked at him. “Well, I’m not ruling out some sexy-time adventures later, but right now I was talking about a country drive. There’s something I want to show you.” I dropped my hands and made to turn around, but Dixon kept a tight hold on me.
“A little show-and-tell? A little bit of ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’? Didn’t we do some of that last night?”
His wide grin and teasing tone made me laugh.
I rubbed his arms. “Yeah, I’ll show you mine. And by ‘mine,’ I mean my plan for the future.”
Immediately, Dixon’s eyes narrowed. Normally, I’d love to have my hands all over his hard muscles, but the tension in his face wasn’t what I had expected.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I just thought you’d like to take a ride and see someplace special to me. I’m not inviting you to a bridal boutique or somewhere to taste-test menus.” I slapped him playfully on the arm. “Not yet, anyway.” Then I burst into laughter. “Seriously, Dixon. Not a proposal or some kind of trap. Just wanted to show you what I’m planning for next year. It’s a nice ride out to the cottage.”
He drew in a breath and let it out. “Yeah. Sure. I could go for a nice ride. And maybe some breakfast...no taste-testing menus needed.” He grabbed his keys from his pockets. “You want to take the truck? Or do you want to drive?”
I got my purse. “Nah, let’s take the truck. More of a country ride feel in that instead of my little Nissan. As long as you don’t mind me giving you directions and telling you where to go?” I turned and headed for the door.
Dixon’s quick steps had him right behind me. Right as we got to the door, he leaned over and rumbled in my ear, “I appreciate a woman telling me where to go...as long as she’s willing to let me enjoy the ride there.”
His words ended with a love bite at the junction of my shoulder and neck. With just a little suction, my knees wobbled, and I leaned back into his strong frame. “Hmmm...”
“Let’s hit the road.” With a quick kiss to my earlobe, he reached around me and opened the door. “After you, milady. Adventure awaits.”
Now I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to show Dixon the cottage or have some sexy-time adventures instead. But at the gentle push at my lower back, the decision was out of my hands and I stepped forward, ready to share my plans for my future with this man who was quickly finding his way into the depths of my heart.
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I HAD DIXON DRIVE THE longer, more scenic route. We’d stopped at another small diner for breakfast on the way. I wasn’t in any hurry to have our day be over. We kept teasing each other over our favorite songs—and my off-key singing—and I pointed out some landmarks as we made our way to my grandmother’s cottage in Atwater Falls. The small town had the typical New England main street, with the locals offering services like high-end skin and beauty care, to hipster coffee joints, to a no-nonsense hardware store—complete with the owner’s dog at the door to greet every customer.
But down one two-lane road, about five miles from the center of town, was the heart of my dreams and goals. Grandmother Stetson had used this as a summer home, so it’d always been “the cottage” to me. But it was a sprawling farm mansion. The driveway led to a porte cochere—the fancy name my grandmother used to describe the covered area that connected to the house and kept visitors out of the elements—but continued beyond the front of the house to the side, where there was direct access to the kitchen. But the welcoming double door was made of stained glass that had never failed to fascinate me as a child.
When you entered, there was a staircase that split to either side, with wide stairs made of hickory. The chandelier wasn’t one of those fussy multi-light monsters, but one of simple elegance. The design of the reflected light always captured my attention more than the actual fixture. Multiple rooms had fireplaces in them; others had the old-fashioned radiators for heat. The four bathrooms upstairs each had porcelain clawfoot tubs and princess sinks. Several rooms also had built-in cabinets and drawers. There were huge rooms downstairs that would connect and form a ballroom. There was a front porch, a side porch, and a sunroom.
But my absolute favorite place as a young girl was the attic. Grandmother had it converted to a bedroom for me, and every time I visited, I had my own castle in the cottage up there. The center brick fireplace below meant the room had a brick chimney right in the middle of the room. Wide windows looked over the expansive backyard. The row of narrow stained-glass windows let me see the activity in the front. Wide-beam floors were covered in plush Oriental carpets, and there was even a bookcase the full length of one wall.
Every summer, I got to spend two weeks with Grandmother at the cottage. It was two weeks of pure heaven, as far as I was concerned. Between being able to be with my grandmother and having the run of the country estate, there was no better way to spend a summer vacation.
The barn out back was large enough to hold a dozen horses, but because Grandmother didn’t spend all her time at the cottage, the building was used more for storage and projects. She had her husband’s Model T in there—something he’d tinkered with for fun. And the maintenance crew had their supplies and tools stored in there, too.
Because of that connection with my grandmother and our time together, she’d always told me that someday the cottage would be mine. As much as I didn’t want to imagine her death, the thought of owning such a wonderful place thrilled me. I’d dream about being married and having a dozen children, and raising them all in the house where I felt safe and loved.
I outgrew the dream of a dozen babies—thank goodness!—and finding Mr. Right was a challenge, but my love of the cottage never wavered. And instead of sharing it with a large family, I thought about sharing it with people who needed to feel that same safety and care it had provided to me. With a family of hoteliers behind me, a bed-and-breakfast seemed like a natural choice. After my Cornell courses, I had an even greater interest in pursuing it, although I’d kept that to myself while I got some practical experience at my family’s hotel. Only Wendy knew about my goals.
My Grandmother Stetson had died several years earlier, before my mother. Both my parents had assured me Grandmother’s will had indeed specified that I was to be given the deed to the cottage—as well as a substantial dollar figure—when I turned twenty-six. Until then, they were the trustees of the property and account. I had no idea why Grandmother thought twenty-six was such a magical number, but that was her decision. And now I was less than a year away from that milestone.
Less than a year away from taking charge of my life—including leaving the family business...and Mark...behind.
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THE CHATTER DIED AS Dixon pulled up the driveway toward the porte cochere. He stopped under the overhang and put the truck in park. Then, he turned and looked at me. “Wow. ‘Cottage’? You mean ‘mansion,’ right? This place is as big as the governor’s mansion!” His wide eyes held a look of disbelief.
It was all I could do to not laugh at his reaction. “Are you sure? When’s the last time he invited you over for a beer?” I nudged his arm. “But, yeah, this is the cottage. I know it’s not really an accurate description, but that’s what Grandmother Stetson called it, so that’s what I call it.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Come on. Do you want to see the house or the land first?”
Dixon followed suit and met me at my side of the truck. “I dunno. How much land are we talking? And do we need some kind of ATV or a horse to see it all? Maybe we should start with the house.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “After you.” He swept his other hand out to the side.
I found my keys at the bottom of my bag and opened the front door. An unwelcome waft of stale air billowed out. “Umm...let’s leave the door open and let it air out. Or find some windows to open. It’s been a few months since I’ve been here last. I try to come every other month to make sure the property maintenance company is taking care of the upkeep and there aren’t any unaddressed issues.” I moved into the foyer and paused at the staircase. “Well, here’s the grand entrance. I’m thinking there’s enough room between these two staircases to set up a check-in desk.”
“A check-in desk? Wait, aren’t you planning to live here? Why would you need a check-in desk?” His face scrunched up, and he dropped my hand as he looked around.
“Did I not mention that detail? Yes, I plan to live here...but I want to open up a bed-and-breakfast. I’ll have a living space up in the attic—it’s bigger than it sounds—and refurbish the space for three or four guestrooms. The space downstairs will be the common areas, like the dining room and a special sitting room. The kitchen needs some updating, but it’s already large and has plenty of pantry space. I’m hoping to fix up the barn out back, and have horses or ponies for guests to ride the property. A garden for people to enjoy. There’s a fountain out back already, but as you can guess, it hasn’t been used in ages.” I waved my hands, gesturing toward each area. Words rushed out, overflowing with enthusiasm. “And there are fireplaces in the bedrooms. Or old-fashioned radiators. And each bathroom has a clawfoot tub, perfect for soaking after a day of relaxing.
“I’ll decorate for each season—spring, summer, fall, and winter. And have special cocktail hours, too. Live music, if I can find some locals who want to play for a small audience. Who knows, maybe I’ll branch out as a wedding venue for small, intimate nuptials.” I looked around the space, envisioning guests enjoying themselves.
“That...that sounds like a lot of work.” Dixon’s tone was cautious. “You seriously want to do that? Have people around, coming in and out at all hours, no privacy, and dealing with food and housekeeping and marketing and promotions?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I think I do. I want this place to feel as special to everyone as it did to me when I was little. I want to share that feeling with everyone. I want to make everyone as happy as I was here. To experience the magic of a summer bonfire, chasing fireflies, breathing the country air. Anything seems possible then, don’t you think?”
“I know I’d like to think so.” Dixon moved in closer, putting a hand on my arm. “But anything seems possible when I’m with you.” He brushed his lips against mine. Lightly at first, and then with more passion.
I leaned into him, savoring the heat and desire in his touch. My senses lit up and all I could feel, all I could taste, all I could recognize was this man with me. There was nothing and no one but the two of us.
“Meow.”
At the feel of something brushing against my leg and the plaintive cry, I jumped out of Dixon’s embrace.
“What is this? How’d a cat get in here?” Dixon looked at the tabby cat currently weaving between our legs, a slight purr starting up as it did so.
I bent to pick the stray up. “Hello, sweet thing. Who do you belong to?”
The only answer was a headbutt and an increase in purring volume.
Dixon laughed. “If you’re not careful, the answer to that question will be you.” He petted the cat, rewarded with the creature leaning into the motion.
“Well, I’m sure it’s somebody’s barn cat, or an outside cat wandering around. We left the front door open...it must have just walked in.” I shifted the cat in my arms. “Let’s show you both the rest of the place.”
Room by room, I walked through the home. I pointed out the inlaid flooring in one room, the clawfoot tub in another. All the while, the cat snuggled in my arms and Dixon was at my side.
“Wow. Those cabinets look amazing.” Dixon went to the corner of the bedroom to investigate the workmanship. “Who built these? Do you know?” He turned to me.
“Like I said, my grandfather liked to tinker, and woodworking was one of his hobbies. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the woodwork was his, but I don’t know for sure.” I joined him at the wall and pulled out a drawer. “But yeah, it’s held up well over the years.”
The cat was less impressed with the craftsmanship and was more intrigued with the view out the window.
The second story overlooked the vast garden, which, sadly, had seen much better days. But the last time there’d been a maintenance review of the property, the fountain had still worked, and the irrigation was still in working order. All it would take would be some TLC, and the garden would attract the birds and bees once again.
I grabbed Dixon’s hand. “Come on. I want to show you the attic.”
“Hmmm...your secret lair? Sounds good to me. I’d love to see where little Cora spent her summer nights.” He squeezed my hand and grinned. “Who knows what I’ll discover about you up there?”
I laughed. “Can’t be letting you find out all about me quite yet. But I’m sure we’ll have fun learning each other’s secrets.” I pulled him in for a quick kiss and then spun out of his arms, leading him to the hidden door at the end of the hallway. “But here’s the first secret...a secret doorway. You have to know it’s even there before you try to open it.” The natural design of the woodwork made the shape of the door fade into the overall pattern of the wall. I pushed on the correct square, and the door swung inward. “Come on.”
He took a step into the new space. There were about three paces before the steps up to the third floor; his long legs devoured the space, and we headed up the staircase. “This is so cool. I can see why you’d love to spend time here every year. If I had a place to hide away from everybody when I was a kid, I don’t think I’d ever leave it.”
The wistful smile had a hint of melancholy. Before it could set on his face, I teased him, “But there’s no TV up here...so no video games, just books. And you can be sure that my grandmother would never have let me have any boys up here. Although, it is pretty removed from the first floor and she could never hear me blasting the radio and dancing away. It was my own little world up here. Not even the maid—”
“Wait a minute...maid? You had a maid?” Dixon shook his head. “So outta my league.” The last words were under his breath, followed by a light chuckle.
“Well, not me...my grandmother. But yes, she had household help. There’s no way she could run the hotel business and take care of this property. Both are full-time jobs, and like I said, her father insisted on her being part of the business.”
We’d gotten to the top of the stairs and the wide-open space of the attic stopped our conversation. Memories washed over me, warming me and making me miss my grandmother. I turned to Dixon to see his reaction.
He swiveled his head from left to right, taking in the view. He stopped at the window and walked toward it. “I can see to the next state from here! Wow. I can imagine you sitting here and playing with your dolls and reading...doing your girly stuff.” Dixon dropped onto the window seat, even though the cushion was no longer there.
I sat next to him and looked out the window. “See? There’s the fountain. It used to run twenty-four hours a day, and I pretended it was the ocean or a rainstorm or a waterfall. I’d imagine all sorts of things, looking out this window.” I turned to look at him. “But you’re better than anything I ever imagined.” I closed the space between us. My lips met his, softly at first, and then with more pressure. I put my arms around his shoulders, and Dixon pulled me into his embrace. I melted into his warmth, and the zips and zings from our first night together rushed over me.
“Meow.”
Dixon pulled away and laughed. “Man, you are really cramping my style, kitty.” He looked up at me. “Maybe your grandmother was reincarnated as this cat, and she’s keeping you from any hanky-panky.” His chuckle grew louder, and I joined in.
“Well, Grandmother Stetson was never shy about her opinions, that’s for sure. But I have a feeling that she’d like you. She’d make an exception in your case.” I gave him a quick peck.
“You know, it just occurred to me. If you and your father are Stetsons, and your grandmother was a Stetson, but took over the business from her father, wouldn’t she have a different last name after she got married?” Dixon looked curiously at me.
I laughed. “Well, my grandmother was a little ahead of her time—not just in business but in her personal life. She was married and had taken his last name. But when he died shortly after my father was born, she decided she was going to go back to using her family name, for both her and her son. As you point out, the hotel was already named after the family, and she needed all the aura of authority she could get to even out the playing field in the business. She figured if she had the ‘wrong’ last name, people would take her less seriously. With the ‘right’ last name, it was clear she was in charge.”
I stood and walked around the room, checking the drawers and tops of dusty bureaus. “Even with the ‘right’ last name, it feels like I’m still not taken seriously at work. It’s one more reason I want to leave and open up this bed-and-breakfast. Make something of my own. Be my own boss. No more kowtowing or putting up with egotists who think they know more than me, or better than me.”
Dixon followed me around the room, watching me trace patterns in the dust and adding his own swirls after me. “I can see some of your grandmother’s strength in you. I mean, she had to be a force to be reckoned with if she kept the hotel chain going for her family when it wasn’t the thing she wanted to do. And to hand down that kind of legacy to her son, and then to you...doesn’t sound like someone who wasn’t in charge.”
“You know, maybe that’s partly why I haven’t rushed out the door. I mean, I’m not happy with the way I’m treated by some people...especially my father...but it is my family name on the business. I know how much my grandmother put into it, and the thought of turning my back on that and all she did to give me this heritage... I feel a bit guilty about walking away from that.” I’d walked the perimeter and was back at the window. I dropped onto the window seat and sighed. “But it’s just not the thing that makes me excited to get up in the morning.” I looked up at Dixon standing next to me. “And I should do what makes me happy, right?”
“If you are lucky enough to know what’s going to make you happy, you should definitely go after it. You’re in a good spot if you know that...I’m not sure what I want to be doing long-term, but like I said before, it ain’t tearing out kitchens and basements.” He reached out his hand and pulled me up. “But right now, I’m happy here with you.”
I smiled and squeezed his hand. “And I’m happy here with you, too. Come on. Let’s go finish this tour and then grab a bite in town before we head back.”
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WE WENT OUT THE BACK porch door and walked the gravel path to the barn. The tabby had followed us out, and was now crouched in the tall grass, interested in some movement. I had the keys in hand, ready to unlock the regular door to the side of the sliding barn doors.
“I haven’t been in here for a long time, so hopefully we don’t walk into a bunch of spiderwebs.” I shuddered, thinking about the possibility.
“What...some little ol’ spiders make you nervous? Don’t worry, m’lady...your knight in shining armor remains vigilant to all dangers, whether they be potholes, broken heels, or furry, eight-legged creatures in the dark.” With exaggerated motions, Dixon took the key, unlocked the door, and peered inside the dark space. “All clear.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I gave a little curtsey and laughed when Dixon bowed in return. “Maybe a little light will help us out.” I reached to the side of the door and flipped the switch.
Once the space was lit, Dixon whistled. “Wow. This is awesome.” He stepped forward and then he wiped at his face. “Ugh. Okay, I have now cleared the way through the spiderwebs for you.” He spluttered, still moving his arms to clear the space in front of him.
I tried not to laugh too much.
He turned to look at me and stuck his tongue out.
But once he started walking around the barn, he was caught up in the discovery of everything left behind. “A tinkerer, you said? More like a professional craftsman. Your grandfather had just about every kind of tool available, it looks like.”
He glanced at the pegboard filled with tools covered in dust and cobwebs. There was a table, six or seven feet long, with more tools and equipment that I had no idea about. Across the aisle, there was another table with even more stuff, although this looked more like my grandfather’s antique car section of the barn.
Former horse stalls had been converted into sections, each with its own focus. Dixon had found the hand tools and car stuff, but other stalls had actual farm equipment, farrier items, and old cans of unknown products. You could spend days out here without finding the bottom of all the collected items.
But Dixon was ready to catalog it all. He moved from table to table, stall to stall, and wall to wall, all the while murmuring words I either couldn’t understand or didn’t know. He was mesmerized by the sheer volume of items that called the barn home.
He brushed his fingers over tools and gadgets, and I wished I was lucky enough to feel his soft caress again. Was I getting jealous of a damn hammer? Talk about pathetic.
Determined to get out of that mindset, I invited him to see what I considered the best part of the barn.
“Hey, want to see the loft? The stairs are back here.” I pulled him away from some woodworking tools. With my hand firmly in his, we walked to the front of the barn and tromped up the wide planks. “I loved this almost as much as the attic.”
When we got to the top of the stairs, Dixon stopped, as if his feet were made of cement.