Look, it’s been a long day,” Mitch said, turning to face Kaitlyn, who stood only a few feet away. “Neither of us were expecting this…complication. Let’s get some rest and revisit how we’ll handle things in the morning.”
She hugged her arms around herself, lifting tired, beautiful eyes to meet his. “Yeah, you’re right. The drive from New York was exhausting. We can meet back here first thing and look over the papers Mr. Garrison left us.”
“Meet back here?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of that. Since he was 50 percent owner, he thought he would at least get a room at the B&B.
“Well, you’re not staying here. This is where I’ll be sleeping.”
“It’s a bed and breakfast. It’s meant to house more than one person,” he said.
“Yes, when it’s open, but we’re not open. Yet.”
An argument rose in his throat and settled on the tip of his tongue. Then his gaze caught on the poker stick resting against the wall behind her. He’d unintentionally scared her when he’d gotten here. Understandable, considering he was a stranger who appeared to be breaking and entering. As much as Mable had told him about her, she obviously hadn’t told Kaitlyn much about him. A young, single, beautiful woman had every reason to be wary of a strange man staying under the same roof.
“Fine,” he said, wishing he wasn’t such a nice guy, because he didn’t want to impose on his mom. He hadn’t even told her he was coming to town. His mom, being the workaholic she was, would’ve insisted on cleaning and cooking and driving him absolutely nuts with all her doting. She had enough to do without taking care of him. “I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight and be back at seven a.m. tomorrow.”
Kaitlyn’s jaw went lax. “Seven? Isn’t that a little early?”
He smiled. “Get used to it. If you’re set on running this place, Mable was up at four thirty every morning cooking breakfast for her guests.” He got a little satisfaction as the realization dawned on his would-be business partner’s face. He guessed she hadn’t thought that far ahead. It didn’t seem like she’d thought about this at all.
Gesturing behind him at the door, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bright and early.”
* * *
Kaitlyn dragged her tired body and suitcase past the wooden staircase and headed down the long hallway to her left. She remembered that her grandmother had always stayed in the downstairs bedroom near the kitchen and laundry area. The three rooms were blocked by a swinging door and made separate living quarters, which, even on their own, were much larger than her city apartment had been.
What Kaitlyn didn’t remember is her grandmother waking so early to cook breakfast. Then again, like a good hostess, her grandmother had the first meal of the day ready when she’d stayed over. Kaitlyn was none the wiser about when or how it’d been prepared.
Four thirty? Well, if that’s what she had to do, so be it. This was a new life for her. A godsend. At least that’s what she’d thought on the drive down. Now doubt niggled in the dusty recesses of her mind, not unlike the inn’s unkempt corners. This place was run-down, and she’d already spent a good portion of her savings on a used Ford Taurus to get here.
With a sigh, she dropped her luggage on the bedroom floor. The room was spacious with a king-size bed on one side fitted with a handmade quilt that Grandma Mable had likely made herself. An antique dresser sat along the wall and a rocking chair invited Kaitlyn to sit and possibly cry her eyes out later. Right now, she bent to unzip her suitcase and search for her favorite pair of flannel pajamas. As she sifted through her belongings, her cell phone rang against her hip. She pulled it from her pocket to her ear.
“Well?” her best friend Josie said in lieu of a hello. Josie still lived and worked in New York. “How is it?”
Kaitlyn climbed into the wooden rocker and clutched the phone to her ear. “It’s awful. I mean, the inn itself is gorgeous but it needs work. And according to my new co-owner, this place can’t even cover its own power and heating bills.”
“I’m sorry—what?” Josie asked on the other end of the line.
Kaitlyn sighed. “Apparently, I’m not even the full owner. Grandma Mable left this place to me and the guy who grew up down the street.” The image of the large, sexy man that Kaitlyn had spent the last hour with came to mind. “According to the will, Mitch and I have to run the bed and breakfast together for two months or we both forfeit to charity.”
“Whoa. That’s an unusual scenario,” Josie said.
Indeed it was. “After the time is up, we can do as we like with the B and B, and since Mitch doesn’t seem to care about staying, I plan to take out a loan and buy him out.”
“There you go. That’s perfect.”
Kaitlyn pressed her head back against the rocker and closed her eyes, grateful to shut out at least one of her senses. “Except he hasn’t said yes to the agreement. Also, since the business isn’t turning a profit, there’s no way the bank will give me a loan to buy him out. I thought this place would be my fresh start.” Those tears threatened behind her eyes. She swallowed hard, refusing to let them through.
“Well, if this is really what you want, you can’t give up,” Josie said in the determined spirit that was her hallmark. “You have to make it a success.”
Kaitlyn opened her eyes. “As much as I want to, I’m not sure that’s even possible.”
Josie hummed thoughtfully into the receiver for a long moment. “Maybe it is. I think I have an idea.”
Kaitlyn resisted the hope springing up in her chest. Josie was the queen of good ideas. That’s how she’d become such a successful magazine editor, managing the lifestyle section of Loving Life magazine. Josie had interned with the magazine fresh out of college and had immediately started impressing those around her, moving up the ranks.
“Loving Life is doing a December cover story on the most romantic holiday getaways in America. I wrote the article myself so I can add in one more spot, if I want. In fact, I gamble to say that Sweetwater Springs, North Carolina, might be the most romantic holiday retreat in America. And the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast is the perfect place for couples, new and old, to stay while they discover the magic there.”
“That would be a lie, Josie. Didn’t you take some kind of journalistic oath or something? This place is hardly the most romantic, and it’s nowhere near ready for business. The holidays are just around the corner.”
“You just said you only have two months to make this happen. You don’t have time to think like that. Besides, I owe you. Whether you think so or not, I’m the reason you ever got a gig with Bradley Foster. That makes me partly responsible for—”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Kaitlyn said quickly, cutting her friend off. In fact, Kaitlyn would be happy to never hear celebrity extraordinaire Bradley Foster’s name again. “That wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”
A slight pause hung between them.
“Even so,” Josie finally continued, “if running that B and B is really what you have your heart set on, you can turn that place into whatever you want. It really can be the most romantic holiday retreat in America. And as my best friend, you better not make me a liar, because I’m adding Sweetwater Springs to my article tonight. The magazine goes into circulation a couple of weeks before each new month, so you better get your partner to agree and then get busy.”
* * *
Mitch cut his headlights before he pulled into his mom’s driveway. She was early to rise and super early to bed so he guessed she’d already be asleep. He’d considered calling one of his buddies in town for a place to stay but his mom lived around the corner from Mistletoe Lane, where the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast was located, so this seemed most practical.
He grabbed his overnight bag—leaving the rest of his belongings in the cab of his truck—and headed up the front porch steps. There was a spare key in the flowerpot off to the side. It wasn’t a wise hiding location but he couldn’t convince Gina Hargrove of that. His mom was as stubborn as Mable had been. That was maybe one reason they’d been such great friends.
He quietly let himself in and headed straight to the guest room down the hall. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he stripped off his shirt and lay back on the twin-size bed of his youth, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stay here. That was a fact. The money from the contract security job was double what he’d made as a police officer in the corps. Not only that, he had a past in Sweetwater Springs. One he’d rather not relive.
The choice was clear. When he met back with Kaitlyn Russo in the morning, he’d just tell her there was no way he could make this arrangement work. It would break her heart since she was obviously determined to reopen Mable and Henry’s B&B but one day she’d thank him. The inn was a lost cause. There was no resuscitating it. Turning the deal down would be doing her a favor.
* * *
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred Mitch to life early the next morning. He followed the scent down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom.”
His mother nearly dropped her mug of coffee as she whirled to look at him. “Where did you come from?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, immediately thinking of Kaitlyn and her poker stick from last night. “I got to town late.”
“I didn’t even know you were coming.” She set her mug down and pulled him in for a tight hug. “It’s so good to lay eyes on you. I was beginning to worry. You got out of the military a month ago. Where have you been?”
“Around,” he said. He had tried to get back for Mable’s funeral but he’d still had one week left to serve, and his request was denied. “I’m fine. You know that.”
“I don’t know it unless you pick up the phone to tell me so,” she said in a voice reminiscent of the one she’d regularly used on him growing up. He’d had a few rebellious years that were no doubt the cause of her initial few gray hairs. Now, at fifty years old, Gina Hargrove had a head full of solid gray hair that she wore past her shoulders. She could probably attribute all of it to him, he thought.
He walked over, grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Busy day ahead?” he asked.
She took a seat at the small table off to the side of the kitchen. “No more than usual. I need to clean the Mallorys’ house today and then the Lances’ after that.”
Mitch’s hand tightened around the mug. “I wish you wouldn’t work so hard.” She didn’t need to. He made sure of that, sending money home from every paycheck he got.
“Hard work never killed anyone.” She continued to sip. “Soon as I pay this house off, I might slow down. You know, after Laura Brown retired, she found out she didn’t have enough money to live off. She lost her home and had to move in with her son and daughter-in-law. If that happened to me, where would I go? You don’t even have a place to live right now.”
“That won’t happen to you,” he said. With his looming contract job in the works, he’d be even better able to ensure that her needs were met. His gaze dropped from his mother’s bloodshot eyes to her shaking hands. “What’s that about?” He gestured as he stepped toward her.
She settled her hands down on the table. “Just tired. These old things are resisting any kind of work after cleaning up the debris and leaves around the Dennys’ rosebushes yesterday. That stuff will harbor pests if you don’t.”
“Yard work? I thought you stuck to cleaning houses.”
“Well, they asked me to help. What am I supposed to say? No?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what you say.”
“It’s fine.” She waved a hand.
It wasn’t fine with him though. Looking at her closer, he noticed she looked pale and tired.
“So, tell me why you’re here,” she said, changing the subject.
“Can’t a guy visit his mother?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Fine. I need to handle a few things at the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast.”
“Really? It’s been closed since Mable passed away last month.”
“I know, but her granddaughter is in town working on the place.”
“To reopen it?” his mother asked, pulling her coffee mug toward her again.
“Doubtful.” Because he wasn’t going to fulfill his end of the will’s stipulations. He guessed Kaitlyn might be able to take out a loan and buy it from whatever charity it was left to when all was said and done. That was an option if she was as headstrong as she appeared to be.
He took one more long sip of coffee and set his mug down. “Actually, I’ve got to get over there pretty soon. Mind if I use the shower?”
“Of course not. This is your home and always will be,” his mom said warmly.
He kissed her temple and looked down at her shaky hands once more. Something in his gut tightened.
“And when you get home tonight, I’ll cook you something tasty for dinner,” she said. “We’ll talk some more. It’ll be nice.”
He pointed a finger. “You’re not going to cook me dinner after working all day. I’ll cook for you.”
“I’m not one of your marines. Put that finger away.” She rolled her blue-gray eyes.
He was tempted to laugh at her stubbornness. Instead, he shook his head and headed down the hall to the shower.
After a quick rinse, he dressed and drove his truck to the century-old inn at the end of Mistletoe Lane. It was a large two-story Victorian home with navy blue shutters. The wraparound porch featured several wooden swings for guests to sit and enjoy the mountain air and scenery. In Mitch’s mind, the view was the best part. From this location, the mountains dipped and rose over his cozy hometown nestled deep in the valley. He’d always thought they seemed to encase and protect Sweetwater Springs. But that was before the car accident. He’d been an inexperienced driver on the icy mountain roads that night and more than his life had veered off course.
All in a blink of an eye. In a single heartbeat. Life had swerved left and had never made itself right again.
His cell phone rang beside him as he parked in the B&B’s driveway. It was still early in the civilian world but not in the military.
“Yeah?” he said, cutting the engine.
“Mitch. Hey, man. This is Jim Smalley.”
Relief flooded Mitch at the sound of the man’s voice on the other end of the line. It was his contact with the security firm in Virginia. Jim was supposed to call when everything was lined up. The sooner, the better. “Jim,” Mitch said, feeling a smile lift through his cheeks. This was the perfect excuse to give Kaitlyn for why he couldn’t stay.
“Bad news,” Jim said, cutting to the chase. “There’s a hang-up with the funding for the job.”
Mitch’s smile fell like a stack of heavy bricks. “How long?”
“Probably not until right after the new year.”
“I see.” Today was October twenty-ninth. What was Mitch supposed to do until January?
“I’ll give you a call when I know more but I wanted to give you a heads-up. That’s how these contracts go sometimes. The job is yours when it opens, but I understand if you need to find something else.”
“No. I’ll wait,” Mitch said. “Thanks for calling, Jim.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be in touch.”
Mitch disconnected the call and sighed. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess the infamous Meddling Mable was sabotaging his plans from heaven. Well, she must know that he was just as stubborn as she was.
“Still not staying, Mable,” he said under his breath in case she was listening. Then he glanced at his watch. It was earlier than the time he’d agreed upon with Kaitlyn. Well, maybe having someone knock on her door at this early hour would serve as a wake-up call. Once Kaitlyn realized the reality of the situation, she could go back to wherever she’d been holed up all these years. New York, he thought he remembered Mable telling him. The delay in his contract job didn’t change his mind about staying in this town one bit. He’d been wise with his money over the years, not just sending some to his mom but also putting a portion away in savings. Two months without a paycheck—if it came to that—wouldn’t break him. Two months of staying in his hometown, however, just might.
Climbing the porch steps, he felt a wave of sentimentality about the fact that Mable would never again greet him at the door with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Even as a grown man, she’d met him with a batch—and he’d never resisted. For one, Mable Russo was a hard woman to say no to. Two, he’d always believed her cookies had some secret ingredient that made a person feel better just by taking a bite. He could use some of Mable’s cookies right about now.
He rang the doorbell and waited. It took several minutes, which he assumed meant Kaitlyn was still asleep. Then the door opened, and she surprised him, dressed in a peach-colored sweater and fitted jeans with her dark hair pulled neatly into a ponytail. She definitely hadn’t just dragged herself out of bed.
“Hi,” she said, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Sorry it took me a minute. Had to get these out of the oven.” A smile bloomed on her fresh face. No sign of pillow creases in sight.
He looked between her and the plate, the scent of chocolate and butter circulating under his nose, mixed with something acutely female.
“Grandma Mable didn’t have much in the cupboards. She did have the ingredients for cookies though. Except for the milk and eggs, but I stopped on the way into town for those staples last night.”
Mitch’s mouth watered.
“I thought this could be our breakfast. I have coffee too, if you want some.”
It was hard to be anything but agreeable when she was offering him caffeine and sugar. He gave a quick nod and stepped inside after her. The front room seemed less dusty than it had the night before. The floors shined beneath his boots too. “Looks like you’ve been hard at work.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she led him toward the kitchen. “It was a late night for me. I couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”
“Yeah? About what?” Certainly not about this place. She’d cleaned, sure, but there was still a laundry list of things to be done. The inside of the house was livable, albeit dusty and in need of minor repairs. The outside had lost its curb appeal though. And most importantly, the place hadn’t drawn in real guests for a while. With the ski resorts that had popped up in the neighboring town of Wild Blossom Bluffs, Sweetwater Springs wasn’t as appealing to tourists. There was nothing here to grab their attention.
“About being here, of course.” She set the plate down on the granite countertop—one of the few updates to the bed and breakfast in recent years—and gestured toward a stool. “Sit and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
“What’s so special about here?” Mitch asked, watching as she poured him a cup.
She shrugged a shoulder, sliding his mug in front of him. “It’s gorgeous, for one. I remember thinking Sweetwater Springs was a magical place as a kid.”
“Mable thought so too.” Mitch chuckled as he pulled the black coffee to his mouth. Bitter and smooth, just like he liked it. “And when I was a kid, I believed her.”
“Not anymore?” She sat on the stool across from him.
He met her eyes and hesitated. “Nah. Same as Santa Claus. The beard has been snatched, so to speak.”
She frowned. When she did, he noticed the plumpness of her pink lips. He pulled his gaze away and stared down into the black abyss of his coffee instead. He wasn’t here for attraction. He was here to put an end to whatever well-intended but naive thoughts the Russos’ granddaughter had running through her mind. They could struggle for two months and then admit defeat—because this place was hopeless—or they could walk away now.
And he was voting for the latter.