by Nancy Naigle
Jackson passed the breadbasket around. “I can help you on Tuesday night. That’s Angie and Billy’s night working the concession stand at the basketball game.”
“Sounds like we have a plan.” Ford wished there was a reason to hold on to her hand.
“Thank goodness,” Angie said. “I’m so glad that worked out. This crazy girl has been talking about possibly selling the B&B and taking her old job back. And she hated that job.”
“Shhh.” Flynn glared at Angie.
Ford’s mood lifted. It just might mean Flynn wasn’t as tied to Boot Creek as he’d feared, and that was a plus. For him anyway. “How about after dinner you show me what I’ve just gotten myself into.”
Chapter Seven
Heat flushed Flynn’s cheeks. Had she just let Ford invite himself to stay in her house? Would she never learn? He’d barely been there an hour.
She watched him put away a second helping of dinner.
Then again, this would be a good test.
Ford Morton would only be in North Carolina a month. There was no possible chance of a relationship, so she should be able to just accept his help and stay friends.
The friend zone.
Safe.
It might be her first time ever entertaining that concept with a guy as good looking as Ford. Then again, he was an artist, and hadn’t she just said she wasn’t going to be dating anyone that didn’t have a real job? No more freelancers. Brandon had proven to her that that type was the wrong one.
“I’m stuffed,” Ford announced. “That was a great meal, Angie. Thank you so much. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a little something for Billy.”
“You did!”
Flynn smiled at Billy’s delight. Ford really was good with him.
“It’s in the top of my blue suitcase,” Ford called out over his shoulder as Billy’s feet stamped into the adjoining room.
Billy unzipped the bag and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper. “Is this it?” He ran back to the table, dropping to the floor to open the box.
“You didn’t have to do that, Ford,” Angie said. Billy slung bits of the kraft paper into the air trying to get to the prize inside.
“That was sweet,” Flynn said.
“I’ve been known to be a softy.” Ford gave her a wink. “But if I was real sweet, I’d have brought you something too.”
She liked the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, and when he interacted with Billy, he melted her resolve. “Oh, you’re going to be doing much more than that for me. Believe me, I’m satisfied with our arrangement. You, on the other hand, may have some regrets.”
Ford held her gaze a little too long. “I don’t think so.”
His stare made her squirm in her seat. She shifted her focus to Billy who had just pulled out a blown-glass totem pole. “That is so cool, Billy,” Flynn said, happy for the distraction.
“It’s for good luck,” Ford explained.
“That’s good because my new soccer team has done nothing but lose.”
“Oh no. That’s no fun,” Ford said. “Well, this should help.”
“It’s the worst.” Billy gave a play-by-play of his day at school and soccer practice. “And I got the number seven jersey. I thought that was going to be lucky,” he said. “Like lucky number seven. And I’ve been lucky. I even scored a goal, but our team stinks.”
Ford’s expression grew serious. “Did your Daddy Jack tell you about the time we won sixteen games in a row?”
Billy’s eyes bulged. “No way!”
“True. We kept wearing our lucky socks, game after game, afraid to jinx the winning streak. Whew! Did our feet stink by the end of that season.”
Billy’s laughter rolled through the room.
“Hope you saved room for dessert,” Angie said.
“That’s not going to happen tonight,” Ford said, rubbing his stomach.
“Too bad. Flynn made her famous chocolate pecan pie.”
Ford glanced over toward Flynn. “Really? Didn’t know you could bake.”
“If I remember correctly you raved about my breakfast just moments ago.”
“That I did, but that’s not baking.”
“I have a few hidden talents.” Quit flirting, Flynn. Friend zone. Just friends.
His smile was a little crooked, and her insides gnawed at her.
“I bet you do.” His voice had a roughness to it that made her itch all over.
Was he flirting with her? They’d chatted a couple of times in random Facebook posts over the past year, but really there hadn’t been much more than a quick exchange of hellos and likes.
She looked over at Angie, but she hadn’t seemed to notice. It was probably just Flynn’s imagination after the talking-to she’d just received from Angie.
Right now she needed to focus on herself, and she wasn’t even sure what that meant. With the offer to come back to work at her old job, and the long list of to-dos for the B&B still hanging over her like an overweight albatross, she didn’t have time for distractions of the male persuasion.
Angie and Flynn cleared the table. While Angie wrapped up the leftovers, Flynn rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.
Ford carried the last of the dishes from the table to the sink. “I appreciate you renting a room to the guy who came all the way from Alaska without a reservation.”
She laughed. “No big deal. We’re friends.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Don’t be too appreciative yet. You’re going to be working that debt off. You know that, right?”
“I’m ready.”
A pang of anxiety swept through her. “I haven’t cleaned. There’s stuff in disrepair all over the place.” He didn’t need to know it was because she’d been wallowing in her own little pity party.
“I remember how organized you were from last year. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Oh, no,” Angie teased. “The toothpaste might be to the left of the toilet paper in the hall closet. Can you imagine if that happened?”
“Shut up. I’m not that bad.” Only most of the time she really was kind of that bad. Not OCD, but definitely organized to a fault.
“Yes, you are,” Jackson and Angie said at the same time.
“You’re doing me a big favor,” Ford said. “I’d be ruined for a regular bed for the rest of my life if I slept in Billy’s truck bed.”
“He’s not kidding,” Angie laughed out the words. “I still think Jackson only naps with Billy because he loves that bed so much. You know they never grow up.”
“Guilty,” Jackson said as he walked back in the room.
“I have to warn you,” Flynn said. “The electrician just got the power back on today after a little incident. The furnace is still on the fritz and there’s not even a faucet on the bathroom sink right now. You’re going to have to use my bathroom downstairs to brush your teeth.”
“That’s an easy fix,” Ford said.
“Says you. I’m giving you one last chance to bail out.”
Ford patted his chest. “Do I look scared?”
Flynn arched her brow and gave Angie a pleading look. Was this some kind of test or something? “One last time—Billy will be sad if you didn’t stay here.”
“He can come and stay at your house with us one night.” Ford turned to Billy. “We could camp over at Flynn’s. What do you say, Billy? I won’t even make you take a shower.”
“Can I, Mom? Tonight?”
“Fine by me. Jackson, are you okay with it? You’d have to pick him up and take him to school.”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“We have a deal,” Ford said. “Go pack your school stuff, Billy.”
And just like that Flynn suddenly had her first guest in months checking into the Crane Creek Bed and Breakfast.
“Sounds like a plan.” Things would stay aboveboard with Billy around. This wasn’t going to be a rerun from her last stint with a handyman in the house. Friend zone. No problem.
; Flynn grabbed her purse, wishing she hadn’t given in as quickly as she had, because her house was not fit for guests right now. Even just friends. At the very least she’d like to give the guest room a once-over to make sure none of Brandon’s stuff had been left behind. But there was no turning back now.
“I’m going to head on home,” she said.
“Billy and I will be over in about an hour,” Ford said. “Will that work?”
“An hour would be perfect. Come on over whenever y’all are ready.” Flynn headed toward the door with Angie at her heels. The guys were already talking about sports.
“You were no help at all,” Flynn said to Angie under her breath.
“What?”
“We were just talking about me getting my focus back on myself and off of men, and you let Ford talk his way right into the house.” She looked back to make sure the guys were still occupied.
“Ford is different. He’ll only be in town for a month, and you need the free labor. Don’t knock it.”
That was true. Ford was a great guy. Good looking too. Of course, he’d be going back to Alaska. She might consider leaving Boot Creek to go back to work in Charlotte for a while, but Alaska was a whole other story.
Chapter Eight
Ford parked Jackson’s old pickup truck at the curb in front of Crane Creek Bed and Breakfast. Flynn had made the place available to Jackson and Angie for their out-of-town guests last summer, so he’d just kind of landed here. He hadn’t spent much time in the place, with the crazy pace of things leading up to the wedding, but it had been a comfortable place to stay.
One thing he wouldn’t forget about the house was the smell of that home-cooked southern breakfast Flynn had served up each morning. Or the way she’d looked standing at the island in her kitchen.
A rush of anticipation coursed through him as he got out of the truck, minus Billy tonight, poor sleepy kid. He reached over the side and pulled his luggage out of the bed. The porch light across the street went on. Probably because he’d slammed the truck door. Living in Alaska had desensitized him to having neighbors. He’d have to watch that.
The front porch of the B&B was well lit. White rocking chairs moved in the gentle breeze tonight, like old souls reminiscing. The blue painted boards on the ceiling of the porch cast a soft hue over the space.
It had been August a year ago when he’d been here. The hottest August on record, and just walking outside had felt like someone had draped a wet wool blanket over him—heavy and nearly impossible to move.
Tonight was the kind of night that he longed for. Perfect football game weather. A slight nip in the air that made you break out the jacket, just in case. A light breeze, and more stars in the sky than a man could count or a kid could wish on. Maybe it was a blessing Billy had zonked out. A night under the stars with Flynn seemed like the perfect way to end his first evening back in Boot Creek.
He stepped onto the porch, his boots clicking off a beat that sounded as loud as his heart at the moment. He’d been daydreaming about this moment all day, and yet, walking to the door right now, he felt awkwardly unsure of himself. Not something he was used to.
The screen door squeaked as he opened it.
Add WD-40 to the shopping list.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door and entered. “Hey, Flynn. It’s Ford.”
She came down the stairs, half out of breath. “Hey, I was just making up your bed.”
“Hi. Thanks.” He stood there for a moment.
“Where’s Billy?” She fidgeted with the ends of her hair.
“He fell asleep before I left. We’ll make the campout another night.”
“Aww. That’s fine. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“He’s great. He sure loves you.”
“You’re really great with him too. I love kids. I hope one day I have one just like him.”
“I’ve always wanted children too.” And there it was again, that awkward silence. And one more piece of information that made him feel a push toward her. “So,” he said, breaking the silence that hung between them, “am I staying in the room I stayed in before?”
“I thought that would be most comfortable for you.”
“Fine by me. Whatever’s easy for you.” He hoped this awkwardness would pass quickly.
“I’ll show you. Come on.”
He followed her, unable to take his eyes off the smooth swish of her hips as she climbed the stairs. Her jeans hugged her curves. Her tooled belt—decorated with little turquoise-colored flowers inlaid between scrolling leather leaves and small silver studs—settled just below her waist. Her long blonde hair teased the bottom of her shirt with each step.
“Right in here.” She waved her hand toward the room to the left of the stairs. The placard next to the door was new since his last visit. The small wooden oval looked to have been hand carved. The detailed leaves enveloped the edges of the oval. The name of the room, Blue Ridge Retreat, was in raised serif letters. A nice touch. He appreciated good craftsmanship no matter the medium.
A soft alluring scent, not quite floral and maybe even fruity in a gentle way, caught his attention as he stepped by Flynn. Perfume? Or maybe it was her hair?
He dropped his bags just inside the door. The room was freshly made up, and she’d even brought up an ice-cold metal pitcher of water that sat on the dresser, damp droplets dotting the sides. A mason jar held trail mix, and a tiny white dish of lime and orange slices sat next to a heavy drinking glass.
Maybe one day he’d make her a set of special glasses for each of her rooms. Those were the kinds of projects that were quick and fun and the type of gifts he enjoyed giving.
“As I said there’s not a working bathroom up here, but there’s a half bath off of the main hall downstairs, and I’ll show you where my bathroom is so you can shower.”
“That would be great. I always feel nasty after flying all day.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “Come on. I’ll show you where the shower is now, so you can freshen up and relax. This stuff can wait.”
“Before we go downstairs, why don’t you walk me through all of the things that need to be done in these bathrooms to get you back in business first.”
Her face tinged pink. “I feel so funny about this. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You’re not. I offered.”
“Right.” She bit down on her lip and sucked in a breath. “Here we go.” She pointed to the door in front of him that led to the en suite bathroom for that room. “Take a look at that first. I can give you a copy of my project list when we go downstairs, so you can see what things you’re up to tackling.”
“Project list, huh? I like that you’re organized.” He poked his head in the bathroom to take a quick look. A new vanity in an old style replaced the old pedestal sink that had been there before. Really high quality too, only there wasn’t a fixture in the entire room. A new toilet, still in the box, sat in the corner of the room. The faucet hadn’t been installed and the shower was nothing but pipes sticking out of the wall. It looked worse than it was. “What’s the stuff in the bags in the bathtub?”
“New towel bars and stuff. That’s not a priority,” she quickly added. “I can just store those in the linen closet until I have time to get that done.”
If he was going to put things in working order, it wouldn’t take more than an hour to add those little niceties.
“All three bathrooms are pretty much in the same situation,” she said.
“The cabinets are really nice. Perfect for the period of the house.”
“Thanks. They were custom. I wanted more of a furniture look.”
“It works,” he said. “And picks up the wood in the furniture in the adjacent rooms too.”
“That was the plan. If you want to grab a change of clothes, I’ll show you the downstairs so you can get that shower.”
“That would be great.” He went back into his room and tossed his duffel bag on the bed. It only took him a moment
to grab a change of clothes and meet her back in the hallway. “Let’s go.”
She led the way, stopping only to point out where the half bath was. “Make yourself at home to anything in the kitchen too. What time do you want to eat breakfast in the morning?”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not a paying guest. I can just grab something from the pantry.”
“If you’re going to help me get those bathrooms back in shape, you’re better than a paying customer. Please, let me cook for you. It’ll make me feel better about you helping me out. Besides, I really enjoy that part.”
He could hardly argue with that. “Well, I can’t have you unhappy now, can I?”
“You could lose your southern card.”
She was quick-witted. He liked that. “Living in Alaska has me on probation already.”
“Then you can’t risk it, can you?”
“Guess not, but you’ll have to let me cook my famous fried pork tenderloin for you one night.”
“I can do that.”
Ford glanced at his watch. “With the time change, why don’t we say nine o’clock for breakfast? Is that too late for you?”
“Not at all. Nine it is.” She steered him through a set of double doors off the dining room that led to a short hallway and three rooms. A sitting room, bedroom, and master bath.
“This is big. I didn’t realize there was this much house back here.”
“It’s deceptive from the street,” she agreed. “There’s a carriage house out back too. It’s a double lot. Not side by side, but back-to-back.”
“That’s different. Do you rent out the carriage house too?” Maybe that’s where the boyfriend had stayed.
“No. It used to be my grandfather’s workshop. Kind of a man cave before man caves were cool. Back in the day it was actually a real carriage house with stalls for the hitch team and everything.”
“Really? That’s pretty cool. No room for horses in the middle of town now. Even a small town like this.”
“That whole area behind this house was once pastureland. There are some old pictures of what the property used to look like hanging in the library. I’ll have to show you those sometime.”
