I groaned, dropping my head in my hands. It had to be the sugar. I never ate sugar. Between the pie last night and the waffle this morning, I was on overload.
That had to be the explanation. I never acted as impulsively as I had a moment ago with Alex.
The boots that had started the entire scene lay on the floor, forgotten.
Bending down, I picked them up. They were well-worn, although still in decent shape, and I remembered her words, “Seth hadn’t grown into them yet.”
Who was Seth to her? Why was she saving used boots for him?
I estimated she was about six years younger than I was, which would make her about twenty-eight. She was much too young to be Seth’s mother.
Sister, maybe?
He’d been looking after her daughter last night.
While she worked.
I glanced around the room, my eyes narrowed. She’d been working last night. She was working again today. I knew she’d spoken with Amy yesterday afternoon.
Did she work all the time? Was that why she looked so exhausted?
Did she live in the hotel?
Where was Noelle’s father?
I had so many questions—I wanted answers to them all.
I glanced at my watch. I had an hour before I was to meet with the mysterious Mr. Walsh.
Maybe he’d be able to give me the answers I was looking for.
I certainly planned to ask him.
I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK warily, unsure of Alex’s reaction. She glanced away from the woman she was speaking to, briefly meeting my eyes. Color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t stop the conversation with her coworker. I waited patiently, even managing to keep my toe-tapping fairly quiet. My fingers drumming on the top of the scarred wood were a little more obvious, though.
Alex fixed me a look that would kill most men—and immediately, I stopped drumming my fingers.
The woman was confusing, and I was sure her bark was worse than her bite, but I wasn’t stupid. I liked my fingers attached.
Finally, she finished and came around the front of the desk, indicating I should follow her. She was silent as she walked ahead of me down the hall. I admired the view, hoping she didn’t realize I was checking her out. Her long hair swung as she walked, hitting the top of her ass. She had an amazing ass—high and round. I was glad she walked slowly.
When we stopped outside a door at the end of the hall, she smiled, looking businesslike and professional. I much preferred her breathless and dreamy, with her lips swollen from mine.
“Will you require anything this afternoon, Mr. Maxwell?”
I was back to being Mr. Maxwell? I didn’t like that.
Fleetingly, I thought about telling her I required her for the afternoon, but I decided against it.
“Ah, is there a car service?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Can I hire a car and driver? I want to go into town.”
“Do you drive at all? A car, I mean—I’m not referring to how you drive people crazy.”
Once again, sarcasm laced her voice, and I knew she expected me to say no. Then she could ask me if my assistant did that for me too. As for the crazy remark, I chose to ignore it—she was one to talk.
“Yes, I drive very well.”
“There’s a car rental place in town, if you want a car for longer than a couple of hours. Otherwise, I can leave the keys for the minivan at the desk for you.” She paused, her eyes lit with mischief she was trying to hide. “If you think you can handle it. It’s larger than a ‘normal’ automobile.”
I smirked at her. “Oh, I think I can handle it.”
“I’ll leave the keys, then.”
“Dinner?” I asked before I could change my mind.
“I assume, Mr. Maxwell, you’re asking if dinner will be available for you this evening? Or would you prefer me to recommend one of our local spots?”
“Actually, I’d like to take you to dinner, but if you have to be here, then I’d be happy to stay in. Whatever you could provide would be appreciated. Perhaps you can join me.”
She blinked. “You-You’re asking me . . . to dinner?” She breathed out the question.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Would you say yes if I was, Alex?”
Her eyes grew large. “Uh, um, I have to work.”
“Do you ever not work? Are you on the clock twenty-four seven?” I frowned at her. “Are you looking after yourself?”
She had a blank expression on her face, her voice returning to a businesslike tone. “I do what I have to do.”
“I think too much is expected of you.”
Her eyes flared. “It’s not your concern. Now, about dinner, I’ll have something sent to your room.”
I tamped down the urge to tell her I was concerned and to make her talk to me.
Raising my hand, I ran down my finger her cheek, enjoying the feel of her skin and the way her eyes focused on my actions. “Will you bring it up to me?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “If I have time. Otherwise, I’ll send it up with Seth.”
I chuckled. “I’d prefer it was you. Then you could join me.” I crouched down so my mouth was by her ear. “I might actually get my dinner, and I promise not to be an ath-hole.”
Her slight laugh made me grin.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you, Mr. Maxwell?”
I shook my head. “I need something to hold over you. And stop calling me Mr. Maxwell. It’s Dylan. I like to hear you call me Dylan,” I insisted, my finger drifting over to her mouth, remembering how her lips felt on mine. They were so soft under my callused fingertip. They felt so right under my mouth.
Our gazes locked, the warmth swirling around us again.
“Is there anything special you’d like for dinner?” she squeaked out.
“You,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
She gasped and her cheeks flamed, making me chuckle. She reacted to me so easily.
“I meant . . . I meant for me to make you.”
I sighed. “I figured as much, dammit.”
“Stop cursing,” she admonished me.
“Have dinner with me, and I’ll stop.”
“I doubt that.”
“So, that’s a no?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll have dinner?” I grinned.
“Stop twisting my words! I have to work.”
“Fine.”
“Is there something in particular you would like me to make for your dinner?” she asked again, enunciating each word, making sure I understood her question.
“No. But I’d like some more pie,” I requested, even though I’d sworn I wouldn’t eat any more sugar.
One piece couldn’t hurt.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She indicated the door. “George—Mr. Walsh—is waiting for you.” She paused. “Enjoy your afternoon, Dylan.”
She hurried away, her cheeks still flushed.
I chuckled and straightened my tie, lifting my hand to knock.
A deep voice stopped my movement.
“Come in, Mr. Maxwell.”
George Walsh wasn’t at all what I expected.
Of course, nothing was in Pinegrove.
He sat, tall and proud, in a wheelchair, everything about him screaming strength and dignity despite his useless legs.
His short, silver hair gleamed in the light. His handshake was firm, his blue gaze direct, and his approach honest.
I liked him.
We dispensed with the usual games straight away.
“Why do you want my property so much, Mr. Maxwell?”
“Dylan, please.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “George.”
“Because I own the pieces on either side of you, George, and I have plans for it. For all of it.”
“Which are?”
I indicated the chair beside him. “May I?”
“Please.”
I sat down, crossing my leg
s. “I want to develop the property. Make it a high-end travel destination.”
“You’re going to tear down the inn and rebuild?”
“Yes.”
“And destroy the forest?”
“No. I plan to use the land in a better fashion. Expand the entire operation.”
“How?”
“In the summer, there’ll be a new outdoor pool, tennis courts, and boats to use on the water with a huge pier overlooking the ocean. Hiking trails with guides. Ocean tours, whale watching—everything my R&D team can come up with to make this a destination people will flock to, all year-round. The hotel will be five-star—beautiful rooms and suites, as well as an indoor pool, spa area, and gourmet dining. The cottages will all be updated and made into luxurious getaways. In the winter, there’ll be cross-country skiing, sleigh rides, snowshoeing, and other winter activities. It will draw a lot of people. It’ll be good for the town and the local merchants. A win-win situation for everyone.” Uncrossing my legs, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I plan to invest a great deal of money here.”
“I’m not sure the town will be prepared for that.”
I smiled knowingly. “George, I’ve been preparing for this for a long time. I’ve already purchased a number of the empty business fronts. There will be high-end shopping and local wares. I’ll make sure the merchants are ready.”
“You’ve planned this all out.”
“I have. The final piece is your property.”
He nodded, looking past me to the window.
“I always planned to live here until I die.” He indicated his legs. “Until the accident happened.”
“Is that why you’re selling?”
He snorted. “We both know why I’m selling. If I don’t soon enough, I’ll lose the place.”
He was right; we both did know that. But to my surprise, I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand.
“What happened?” I asked quietly.
“My son and I were on a trip down south. Foolishly, we didn’t have travel insurance. We went down for a few days, and neither of us even thought about it. We were in a car accident.” He blew out a long huff of air. “My son, Eric, was killed. I was left in this chair. Without insurance, the medical bills were horrendous.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“That moment took away almost everything that mattered in my life. The only things I had left were this place and my daughter-in-law and granddaughter.”
“Why have you decided to sell now?”
“Not long before the accident, Eric had convinced me to reinvest and do some upgrading. I took a huge mortgage on the place.” His hands curled on the arms of his wheelchair, his anger showing.
“And?” I prompted.
“The contractor we hired screwed us over. He took the money, did next to nothing, and disappeared. Add in the accident and the bills I was left with, it’s been a never-ending struggle.”
I didn’t say anything. His story helped explain how he ended up in such a mess. It was tragic and awful—and cost him everything he held dear.
“I held on to hope as long as I could, that one day I’d walk again, be able to find a way to make this all right. But instead, I’m getting older, and soon won’t be able to care for myself at all. As it is, I need more help every week. I need to move to a place where I can get that care without feeling guilty for asking anything more from the one person who has given up her life for me. She deserves happiness—a home, and another chance at a real family.”
“Your daughter-in-law?”
He looked me in the eye. “Yes. Alexis. Alex is my daughter-in-law.”
I hurried down the hall, my cheeks burning, my mind racing. I ducked into one of the doors marked Staff Only and leaned against the rough wood. My breathing was fast, my skin flushed all over, and my lips still felt him.
Dylan Maxwell.
When he had walked into the inn last night, my entire world fell off its axis. Standing in front of the fire, his fists clenched, he was out of place in my shabby lobby. Sharp cheekbones slashed across his stern face, and his deep brown hair shot with gray fell over his forehead in messy waves. His gaze was intense—light blue irises that stood out under heavy eyebrows. His overcoat stretched across his broad shoulders, suiting his tall frame. No doubt it cost more than I made in a month. Maybe two. He was frowning, looking around, seemingly almost . . . lost?
For one brief moment, I thought he was a stranger, someone needing a room, and I smiled at him warmly, wanting somehow to help him. His own smile changed his face. The detachment vanished, and his expression was open and inviting.
Seconds passed, and there was only us. Smiling at each other.
Until he spoke.
Until I knew for sure, he was the man who was going to buy the property and force me to move from the one place I had called home for so many years.
He was arrogant, demanding, and cold.
Infuriating.
I did my best to be polite and accommodating. I had to call a friend who owned a fancy restaurant down the road and beg her to sell me a bottle of Courvoisier since the liquor store was closed. She lived over the restaurant and met me partway to save me time when I explained about the error. Then I rushed back to the inn and made him dinner. I thought I’d finally done everything right for him, until I found him in the hall with Noelle.
And she repeated what I had muttered in a fit of anger.
Asshole.
To say his reaction stunned me would be an understatement. His laughter had been loud and rich. His forgiveness shocking. His acceptance of his dinner and his gratitude for it this morning, unexpected.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he ate breakfast with Noelle and Seth. His bewilderment was endearing. His patience with Noelle another surprise.
Until we were alone.
Until he spoke.
Until he kissed me.
The yearning that exploded when his mouth crashed on mine was overwhelming. He awoke feelings in me that had been dormant for years. The shock of the moment hit me, and I had run, unsure how to deal with him.
I couldn’t believe he kissed me.
I couldn’t believe how much I liked it.
When I took him to see George, his quiet words, innuendos, and teasing left me feeling off-kilter.
It had been so long since a man had made me feel that way.
I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted to feel his hard body pressed to mine—to feel his strength and power as he held me. To feel his demanding mouth on mine again. To forget everything and everyone, and give in to the desire he stirred within me.
But I couldn’t forget.
I was a mother, a caregiver, and I had a business to run with a lot of people depending on me. I came last, because that was how it had to be. I didn’t have time for a fling. Because for a man like him, that was all it would be.
Dylan Maxwell was a guest.
A rich tycoon here to buy the property and nothing more.
He was sexy, handsome, and charming when he chose to be. Cold and blunt at other times.
And he would be gone in the next couple of days, returning to his life. I would remain in Pinegrove, trying to pick up the pieces, and find mine.
The strange attraction that sizzled between us would mean nothing. He wasn’t the sort of man looking for a relationship. I wasn’t the sort of woman that had flings.
No matter how attractive he was.
I pushed off the door, knowing I needed to stay busy.
At least here in the inn, that was never a problem.
I touched my lips, wishing they didn’t still feel his touch.
I ignored the voice that whispered they wanted to feel it many times over.
MY MIND WAS REELING AS I went back to my room. I paced the small space, going over what George had told me.
Alex and Noelle were his family. The inn was their home.
Alex, he had explained, had always been an old soul and had
few friends her own age. Her best friend, Tami, had been fifteen years her senior. When she died of breast cancer, Alex took in her son Seth, vowing to care for him as if he were her own. He became hers, and therefore, part of George’s family as well.
After George’s accident, and the death of her husband, Alex had cared for the children and him, plus ran the inn. She gave up the little house she and Eric lived in, and moved in to the hotel on the second floor. She renovated George’s room on the main floor to accommodate his needs. Two years later, when Seth joined them, she made another room into his.
Between the medical bills and the constant need for repairs, as well as the dwindling guest bookings, George finally admitted they could no longer ignore the facts. He needed more care, and Alex needed to find her life. He had a place in Halifax that would meet his needs, but his greatest worry was Alex and her family.
He leaned forward, his tone earnest, honesty rolling off him in waves. “I need to look after my family, Dylan.”
“Why are you telling me all this, George? How do you know I won’t use it to lowball my offer?”
“I checked you out. You’ve always been honest in your business dealings. And . . .”
“And?” I prompted.
“I spoke several times with your Mrs. Carson. She, ah, has a very high opinion of you.” He met my gaze. “I don’t think you’re going to try to screw me.” He chuckled. “Besides that, Dylan, I’m infirm, not stupid. I know what the property is worth. I know you want it. If I don’t like your offer, I’ll accept another one and you can fight with them to buy it.”
“What will Alex do? Will she move to the city?”
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “No. Alex went to the city once. The girl who left here and the one who came back were two completely different people. The big city and all the trappings there aren’t for her. She likes, she needs, open spaces and friendly faces around her.” He sighed. “My biggest regret is that the one thing she has always wanted, dreamed about, the one thing I struggled for so long to give her, will never happen.”
“And what is that?” I asked, every nerve in my body on edge. I needed to know. I had no idea why, but I had to know what Alex’s dream consisted of. It felt important to me.
Christmas Sugar ~ Melanie Moreland Page 4
