Valery slipped off her dirty shoes on the back porch and tossed a pair of equally dirty gardening gloves on top. Spring cleanup began this morning, bright and early. Julia tackled the house, thank goodness, while Valery headed for the gardens and the orchard. But no matter how much mulch she laid or how many weeds she extracted, tracking dirt and mud inside the inn was reserved for Alex, Bingo and guests.
Following the noise of industry to the kitchen, she found Julia standing on a step stool, all the sparkling, polished glasses from one cabinet arrayed on the counter before her. Even in jeans and T-shirt with her hair up in a ponytail, Julia managed to look gracious and elegant, the quintessential Southern hostess. Like Mama, perfect in every way.
Even as children, Julia would sit quietly on the porch in her Sunday dress with white patent-leather shoes and perky hair bows absolutely pristine while Valery hung upside down by her knees from the swing set, too antsy to do nothing until Mama was ready for church.
“Ah, the smell of lemon.” She sucked in a deep inhale.
Lemon cleaner and polish filled the house, the only time of year any scent other than peach took front and center.
Julia glanced down at her. “You look exhausted.”
“So do you. Jobs well done, then.” Valery offered a high five. The sound smacked an echo in the kitchen. “All the flower beds are mulched and every weed ripped out by the roots.”
“Closets and cabinets cleaned and rearranged. This is my last one.” Julia placed a set of stemware on the second shelf.
Every spring, they scrubbed, waxed and polished the inside and landscaped the outside before peach season began. After the fruit came in, preserving, freezing, and jelly-making took second place only to guests. Running an inn with an orchard was nonstop, but Julia reveled in the work. Valery not so much. But what other choice did she have?
“Looks like you have great help.” Valery crouched beside the dark-haired boy sprawled on his belly on the tile floor. His short, jean-clad legs were bent at the knee, seesawing in the air. Having a child in the house had made such a difference, and like her sister, Valery had fallen hard for Eli’s sweet son.
“Hey, Alex. How was school today?”
“Okay.” Alex gave her a shy grin and resumed coloring. “I’m making a new picture for Aunt Opal.”
Aunt Opal was the old woman who’d cared for Alex until Eli had come for him. After a debilitating stroke she lived in a senior care center, refusing to move into the inn or “become a burden.” That was Opal. Stubborn, outspoken and tough as nails. The old woman loved Alex and Eli as if they were her own. They returned the feelings, and Eli did everything he could to make Opal’s life easier.
Her sister had married an honorable man. Just when Valery had become convinced there was no such thing.
With a soft smile, she stroked the little boy’s slender back, grateful to have him to love. He had a heart as big as a mountain and was sweet as honey. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Alex. You’re such a good boy. Aunt Opal will love it, I’m sure.”
Julia set the last glass inside the cabinet and stepped off the stool. “When Eli gets home, we’re going to the care center to take Aunt Opal out to dinner.”
“That’s nice.” Valery snagged a clean glass, drawing a quick scowl from her sister, and pushed the water lever on the refrigerator. “Where are you taking her?”
“Wherever she wants to go, and then we’ll spend some family time together at the center.” She rubbed a lemony-smelling sponge over the countertop. “Will you keep an eye on things while I’m gone?”
Valery, in mid-drink, paused and lowered the glass. “Don’t I always?”
“Yes, but...” Julia shook her head. “Of course you will. Thank you.”
Valery’s jaw tightened. She heard what Julia didn’t say. She wasn’t dependable. Swallowing the anger, she tossed back the rest of the water and put the glass in the dishwasher.
“I picked up fresh flowers for the foyer this morning,” Julia said, expression cautious. “Will you arrange them? You know how awful I am at arranging.”
An olive branch. Valery accepted it. “You’re not that bad.”
“Yes, I am. When I stick flowers in a vase, that’s all I do. But your arrangements look artistic and professional.”
More compliments. A red-letter day.
“Because I like doing it and you don’t.” Valery took the paper-wrapped flowers from the refrigerator and sniffed the blooms. “These are pretty. The yellow cremones will really pop against the white daisies and dark pink alstroemeria.”
She was showing off a bit. The flowers were simply mums, lilies and daisies but the fancy names sounded impressive.
Julia laughed. “See what I mean. To me, they’re white, yellow and pink flowers with some greenery. To you, they’re people with names.”
Complimented, Valery chose a vase from under the sink, took a pair of scissors and went to work. Neat-freak Julia scooped the clipped ends off the counter.
Her fingers knowing what to do with the flowers, Valery gazed at her sister. “You must have been in the attic.”
“I was looking at some of the furniture stored up there. Why?”
“You have a spiderweb—” She didn’t get the words out before Julia started an undignified slap and swipe of her entire body.
“Where? Get it off. Hurry!” Shuddering, Julia gyrated and slapped at herself until Valery could no longer keep the grin off her face.
Alex stopped coloring to gaze up in concerned wonder.
“She’s fine, Alex. Don’t worry.” Laying aside the scissors and a long-stemmed mum, Valery went to her sister’s rescue. She brushed the faint strands of dusty white silk from Julia’s hair. “Got it. You’re safe.”
Her sister was the bravest person she knew, but mention a spider and she fell apart.
“Stop grinning.” A blush flared on Julia’s cheeks. “Spiders are evil.”
Valery’s grin widened. “Straight from the devil.”
Alex got up, markers forgotten on the floor, and wrapped his arms around Julia’s legs. “I’ll kill the spiders for you, Mom. Don’t worry.”
“My brave boy.” Julia hugged him to her, face soft.
Over Alex’s head, the sisters exchanged understanding glances. Alex wasn’t a replacement for Michael, but he was a warm, loving boy who needed a mother. And Julia needed a child.
Valery’s throat clogged, tight with unwanted emotion.
After a long moment, Alex pulled away and smiled his gentle smile. Then he gathered his coloring pages and exited the room.
Valery watched him go. “Does he still play with Benjamin’s marbles?”
“Sometimes. Not like he did in the early days of counseling.” In grief over the loss of his mother, Alex had turned inward, latching on to a set of antique clay marbles and playing with an imaginary friend named Ben. Except Benjamin hadn’t been imaginary. He was a real boy who had lived in this house over a hundred fifty years ago.
“Does he still talk about Ben?”
“Sometimes. Eli and I have learned to take any mention of the angel boy in stride.”
“I remember how it used to freak Eli out.”
“Until he realized the house has...something special, a gift of healing, I like to think.” Julia spritzed the countertop with cleaner. “It healed me.”
If only the inn could heal her as well, but how could it? Her wounds were all of her own making.
“No one has found a marble in a long time. Not since Hayden,” Julia went on. “I guess none of our guests have required Ben’s special brand of healing.”
No one but her. She’d found her share of marbles lately. More than her share, and they offered an odd kind of comfort. For some reason, she didn’t want to share that information with her sister.
The marbles seemed to appear at random out of nowhere but only to those struggling with some emotional war. The famous writer, Hayden Winters, had found several in his months at the inn.
She didn’t believe in ghosts, and no guest had ever complained of frightening occurrences or things that go bump in the night. Some heard music, as Grayson had. A few heard boys’ laughter outside the Blueberry Room but assumed the sound came from Alex. No one was ever afraid at Peach Orchard Inn.
The bed-and-breakfast inn had a benign presence, an angel, she and Julia believed, and Valery liked thinking he watched over them and their guests. And left marbles as a comforting reminder of his gentle, giving presence.
“Neither Grayson nor Devlin have mentioned finding one,” she said.
“Healthy souls.” Julia glanced up at the ceiling. “I know you’re dying to ask. Grayson came in around noon, went upstairs and hasn’t been back down.”
She had been. “Not for lunch?”
“No, and he didn’t order out either.”
“He’s a workaholic. He forgets to eat.”
“Who does that?”
“I know, right?”
Julia glanced at the clock on the cook range. “Eli will be here soon. I need to get showered and dressed and get Alex changed.”
Valery poked the last yellow mum into place. “Doesn’t this look springy and cheerful?”
“It does. See? So artsy and pretty.” Julia bussed her on the cheek. “You’re amazing. But you smell sweaty.”
“I’ll shower in a bit, but you better get crackin’ if you want to be ready when Eli gets home. Go on, I’ll clean up my messes. Promise.” She spun the vase around as an idea took root. “Even the best care facility gets dreary. Why not take this bouquet to Opal, and I’ll pick up some others for the foyer tomorrow?”
“Valery. What a sweet, kindhearted thought. Opal will be thrilled.”
“I’ll leave the vase here on the counter.”
Later, after Julia and family had left, Valery went to her room for a shower, plotting what she’d fix for her solitary dinner. She didn’t like to eat alone. In fact, she didn’t like to be alone most of the time. She was a people person with friends scattered all over the state and plenty of them in Honey Ridge. She could invite someone out.
No one came to mind except the workaholic in the Mulberry Room.
She picked up her cell phone twice to send a text but changed her mind. She didn’t want to read an impersonal message. She wanted to see him.
Hair fluffed and swinging loose around her shoulders, she trotted up the stairs to the Mulberry Room. Devlin had driven away earlier this morning and had yet to return. She didn’t know where. Guests weren’t required to ask permission to come and go. Long-term guests had the run of the property and a special entrance key.
She lifted her hand to knock and froze. Inside, she heard the mumble of Grayson’s baritone voice. He must be on the phone. Maybe a conference call or a Skype meeting. Though she was tempted to press her ear against the door and listen, she refrained. Never had she invaded her guests’ privacy, and she wouldn’t start now, not even with a man she’d kissed.
Instead, she turned and went back downstairs to the kitchen, her stomach complaining about the now long disappeared spinach salad she’d eaten for lunch.
As she fried bacon for a sandwich, she thought about Grayson and threw in a few extra strips. He was a pleasant surprise. He hadn’t turned into a jerk, and he worked too hard. No surprise there, but a man had to eat.
When the pair of BLTs on toast was ready, she added several kosher dills to the plates and put them on a tray with two glasses of milk. The man hadn’t eaten all day. He needed milk. For good measure, she added a half dozen of Julia’s peanut butter cookies.
A broken-stemmed cremone lay forlornly next to the water faucet, discarded in favor of its long-stemmed brothers. Because the bright color made her happy, she placed the flower along the tray’s edge and started up the stairs. At the Mulberry Room door, she balanced the tray on one hand, proud that she could, and knocked with the other.
She heard movement and then the door opened. He looked harried and tired, sleeves rolled back, top two buttons open as if he’d wrestled with them. Behind the black-framed reading glasses, his eyes were rimmed in red.
He heaved a weary sigh. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed. “Me or the BLT?”
“Both. Is that for me?” He stepped to one side. “Come in if it is. If it isn’t, come in anyway, and I’ll talk you out of it.”
Suddenly very glad she’d thought of this impromptu room service, Valery entered. Grayson took the tray, pushed the laptop to one side of the desk and set the food in its place.
“A flower. Nice touch.”
At the sincere praise, she glowed inside. “Julia said you’ve been holed up in here all day. I thought we could share a bite.”
“A genius as well as beautiful.” His gaze lingered on her, taking her in, making her feel important as if he was both glad and a little astonished that she’d thought of him.
“I’ve never visited in a guest’s room before.”
Those blue eyes warmed. “That’s a good thing.”
She laughed, almost giddy to be here with him. When had she ever felt that way about a man?
He handed her one of the plates. “Sit in the armchair. I’ll take the desk.”
“Because the food’s there?” she teased.
His lips curved. He had a wonderful, gentle, friendly smile that warmed her all over. “You caught me. I was hoping you’d think I was being chivalrous.”
Valery settled into the mulberry floral chair, plate on her lap, her gaze on this most unlikely male companion. He was so not her type, and she realized, for once, this was a good thing.
“You haven’t tasted my cooking yet. Julia’s the chef.”
“I know perfection when I see it. Nothing better than a warm BLT, and this one looks and smells like paradise. A man and his bacon...” He chowed down, taking a man-sized bite that had him moaning and rolling his eyes in exaggerated appreciation.
Valery laughed, enjoying his pleasure, enjoying him. For a reaction like his, she would take cooking classes. Was a man’s stomach really the way to his heart?
For a few quiet moments, they ate, and she had to admit the sandwich tasted delicious, exactly the right amount of salty crisp bacon and fat, juicy tomato.
When Grayson finally slowed down for a drink of milk, more than half the sandwich was gone. He glanced at his watch and then sheepishly at her. She twitched an eyebrow.
“I didn’t realize it was getting this late. No wonder I’m starved.”
“What are you working on that was so important you’d skip lunch?”
He put his sandwich on the plate. “Want to see?”
“Sure. But finish your BLT first.”
He dispatched the remaining sandwich in three bites and tilted back in the desk chair with a relieved ahhh. “I’m a new man.”
“I like the old one pretty well.”
His gaze captured hers. There was heat and lightning in those blue depths and a sincerity she was unused to from men. “Food and a compliment. Come here, I’ll show you what I’m working on.”
Valery put her sandwich aside and moved to the laptop he indicated as he shoved the empty tray aside. Rolling the chair to face the desk, he tapped the mouse pad, and the screen came on. A few quick swipes and he opened a graphic mock-up displaying the interior layout of a rustic but classy restaurant.
Valery leaned over his shoulder. He smelled good, manly and clean, the way he always did, and her belly fluttered at the attraction she felt at being this close. Brazen, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Warmth. Strength. Tension.
“Did you do this?”
He looked up, smiled. “I did. What do you think?”
“I think you’re incredibly talented.”
“Not talented. Simply proficient with software. Any geek could do this.”
She squeezed and released the tight muscle in his shoulder. “You had to have the vision first. That’s talent.”
“Devlin’s the designer, but once in a while I get a good idea. The mill restaurant strikes a chord with me. I want it to be perfect.” He arched his shoulders upward and rolled his neck. “Didn’t realize I was this tense.”
“Very tight.” Without asking, she began to work the muscles along the top of his shoulders.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Her hands stilled. “You want me to stop?”
A pause and then, “No.”
When she’d danced, keeping the muscles loose was paramount. Constant exercises strained and pulled and caused aches and soreness all over the body. She knew how to make them better.
Muscle memory took over, and she kneaded broad shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt sliding easily beneath her fingers.
“Your trapezius muscles are the problem. Sitting slumped over the computer has them in a spasm.” She slid her thumbs up the sides of his neck, and he shivered. She eased the pressure.
“Does that hurt?”
His head moved slightly. “Feels good.”
“You’re very tense right here.” She followed the hard muscle into his hairline and up the back of his head. The warm scalp under his dark, crisp hair sent sensations up her arms.
“Lay your head on the desk and relax.”
“Easy for you to say.” But he did as she instructed, forehead on his forearms. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” She wanted to, so she continued the massage, tightening and loosening the muscles, kneading, stroking her thumbs deep into the tissues.
For an athlete, working tight muscles was an act of defense. Here in Grayson’s room, the two of them alone and attracted to each other, a massage could easily become a sensual thing.
They were as close as lovers, her body leaning into his back, though a desk chair stood between them. Still, she was aware of how he appealed to her, how physically appealing, masculine and sexy he was.
If she kept this up, she knew where it would end. In a way, she wanted it to happen. Then, she could be done with him. He would be exposed as another in a long line of users. She could despise and resent him and move on. But another part of her desperately yearned for a man to love her, all of her, not just her body.
The room was warm, the air heavy with bacon and the undeniable element of desire. Her own. Maybe his.
She dipped forward and placed her lips against the warm flesh of his neck. And that’s when she heard the sound. A long, sighing breath and a gentle snore.
Valery laughed softly, kissed him again and tiptoed out the door.
A first. She’d put the man to sleep.