“It’s probably too early to check in.”
“The rooms have already been cleaned, so it’s no problem. How long will you be staying?”
“Not sure. A few days, maybe a few weeks if possible.”
She tried to act unaffected, but it was hard when he was sizing her up with emotionless eyes. She was suddenly conscious of her messy ponytail and freshly scrubbed face.
“We’re all clear except the weekend of October third. We have a private wedding scheduled.”
“If I’m here that long, I’ll figure something out.”
“Great.” She quoted the weekday and weekend rates.
“That’s fine.”
Grace took his card and information. Wyatt Jennings—nice name. She tried to keep her eyes on the screen, tapping the keys with fingers that were oddly clumsy. Her heart, too, seemed to be doing some weird kind of flutter, and the discomfort left her hoping Wyatt Jennings might limit his stay to a few days.
He stood a few feet from the desk, hands at his sides, posture rigid, gray duffel bag at his feet. He was dressed casually, but his clothes were crisp and neat, not a wrinkle in sight. He wore that tucked-in black T-shirt like a second skin, the short sleeves hugging an impressive pair of biceps. A tattoo peeked out from beneath one of the sleeves.
Stop staring.
“What brings you to the area?” she asked, by way of making conversation.
He ran his fingers through his short, almost-black hair. “A little R & R.”
She paused a moment, waiting for him to expound, but he didn’t. If she were Molly she’d keep at it until she knew the man’s city of origin, marital status, and social security number. But she wasn’t Molly.
“Well, this is a great place to rest up, especially this time of year. The weather’s still nice, but the trails and lake aren’t swamped with tourists.”
She clacked away, hitting wrong keys and backing up to delete her mistakes. She was vaguely aware that his gaze shifted around the lobby and the connected living room. She had a feeling if she asked him to close his eyes and recount the visual details of the rooms, he might score better than she did.
“All right, Mr. Jennings,” she said when she finished. “We’re all set.”
“It’s just Wyatt.”
When his eyes returned to hers, the full impact of his attention made her lungs empty. His brown eyes were set deep beneath a pair of masculine brows. He was neither frowning nor smiling. She wondered briefly what that might look like. The smile, not the frown. She already knew she didn’t want to see him unhappy.
She slid his key across the desk. “Wyatt, then. I’m Grace, one of the owners. Maybe I already said that.” She paused, but when he simply slid the key into his back pocket, she went on. “Let me give you a little tour before I show you to your room. You can leave your bag behind the counter if you’d like.”
He didn’t really seem like the tour type—or the inn type for that matter—but he followed her down the hall anyway.
“The Bluebell Inn was built in 1905 and was the town’s very first inn. It featured ten bedrooms. Early on it was a stagecoach stop, then for years it housed the post office, till it was sold in 1978 and turned into the governor’s summer home.” She nearly added that he shared a last name with the governor, but that seemed like the kind of trivial detail he wouldn’t care about. “My parents purchased the home when my siblings and I were young, so we had the pleasure of growing up here.”
Unlike Levi and Molly, she always skipped over the part about their parents’ deaths and their desire to fulfill their parents’ dream. She could do without the pity.
The hallway’s walls closed in, the space almost buzzing with Wyatt’s presence. She was grateful to enter the more open space of the library.
“My brother, sister, and I run the place now, and I also run an outfitters business in my spare time.”
He gave her a long look, which she felt to the tips of her lime-green toenails. Her gaze fell to the duffel bag he’d carried with him.
“Um, this is our library, obviously, and you’re welcome to use it and borrow books if you like. Let me show you the restaurant.” She gave him a smile—unreturned—as she passed him on the way back out. A clean masculine scent wrapped around her and, unwittingly, she drew in a deep breath.
She gestured toward the back door. “The lake’s out that way, of course. We have a small boat that’s available on a sign-out basis and a pier with a bench, a favorite spot to watch the sunset.” He did not seem like the sunset type.
“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the area’s natural attractions, but pamphlets are in the lobby, and someone is almost always at the desk. We’re happy to help with recommendations, directions, or anything else you need.”
As they passed through the lobby she gestured toward the small glass dome on the desk. “Our cook, Miss Della, is famous for her sweets. Every afternoon you’ll find complimentary cookies here.” Remembering his stellar physique she added, “And also, fresh fruit.”
They proceeded through the living room, and she stopped at the French doors leading to the restaurant.
He scanned the space, still saying nothing.
She headed back toward the lobby. “Breakfast is included in the cost of your room, and we also have a lunch and supper menu, which comes in handy. You’ll find a lot of restaurants close during the week or on rainy days or, you know, when the owner has a hangnail.”
Very professional, Grace. She winced.
“If you’ll follow me upstairs, I’ll show you to your room.”
When she made the turn to the second floor, she paused, mostly to make sure he was still there. “Any questions so far?”
“Is there a workout room?”
“Um, no, but we have an arrangement with Jim’s Gym. You can use it since you’re staying here. Also the yoga studio in town.”
His eyebrow arched, he gave her a long, steady look.
Okay, no on the yoga. “There’s a pamphlet downstairs with details.”
She continued up the stairs, then down the hall, and stopped at the first door on the left, room seven, tucked into a little alcove.
She gestured toward the door, giving her best professional smile. “And here we are.”
He slid past, almost brushing her in the tight space.
Her smile wobbled as her breath caught. “Um, please let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
He gave a nod.
Grace turned away, fighting the strange urge to scurry back down the hall.
Chapter Three
Grace had two tasks in mind as she hunched over the laptop’s keyboard. Okay, three. One, she needed to find an affordable space for her business, preferably in downtown Bluebell. Two, she needed to know at which sites to list the inn. Three, she had to distract herself from the noises coming from Wyatt’s room overhead. She’d already figured out from the repetitive noises he must be working out. She briefly considered bringing him that gym pamphlet, but there was a line between helpful and overbearing, and she liked to stay on the right side of it.
Why was he at the inn? He wasn’t their usual customer. They catered mostly to couples from young to elderly, or sometimes families with small children. Maybe he was here to hike—there were certainly plenty of trails to keep him busy. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to bother with an Airbnb. Maybe he liked starting his day with a full stomach.