Going All Inn (Faire Island Bride Series Book 1)

by Lizabeth Scott

  “And that’s when you found the Inn contest,” Suzie says, and all three women look at each other and frown. I get the feeling they don’t approve.

  I nod in agreement. Do they not think I can do this? “Yeah, I found the contest. I can do this. I know I can.”

  “We believe you, sweetie. It’s just…” Melissa starts to say and then Suzie jumps up from her chair and yells, “Last one in is a rotten egg!” before she runs for the beach, pulling her shirt over her head. The other two follow with peals of laughter ringing out. How can I do anything else but join in?

  That’s how there isn’t just one full moon that night. There are actually five. The water is freezing, but after the initial shock, it isn’t too bad. We splash and run and play like we were kids and I’ve never had such fun. Yeah, these women are going to play an important part in my new life. But I still miss Lili.

  After waving them goodbye and promising to have another get-together soon, I lock the door and lean back against it. I’m tired. But a good tired. A tired that is filled with anticipation of good things to come. An accomplished tired.

  “Come on, Henrietta. Let’s go to bed.” I don’t know when the monster chicken and I became friends. It could have been when I gave her scraps of my sandwich at dinner or it could have been when we had lengthy conversations as I cleaned. She’s a very good listener. I named her Henrietta. It just seems appropriate. Every time I left the kitchen, she would follow behind me like a dog. Or a sentinel. I’m not sure which.

  The main thing is, we made our peace and now we have an understanding. I take a much too quick bath to wash the dirt and salt water off with Henrietta perched on the closed toilet seat, brush my teeth without looking at myself in the mirror, and fall into bed. I’m out before I can remind Henrietta not to sleep on the bed.

  The next morning, I wake from my sinfully delicious dreams of Bode to find Henrietta once again roosting on the pillow beside me. “Good morning, Henrietta.” I wish I could Google “how to train your chicken.”

  I dress and can’t believe how excited I am to start the day. I’m carrying Henrietta under one arm while holding a pale blue egg in the other hand and make my way to the kitchen. Coffee is my single focus, and this morning that’s going to happen.

  I have on another pair of nylon booty shorts. This time the neon green ones, and I paired them with a shockingly pink tank top, which I’d tucked under the lower band of my bra, baring my midriff. Even if the temperature isn’t high digits, working will make me hot. If my family could see me now, they wouldn’t believe it was me. But the outfit is cool and today I am going to tackle the weeds in the back yard. They obstruct the view of the ocean from the porch deck. There’s no reason I can’t get a tan while I do it.

  I drop Henrietta and the egg off in the roosting box I made her from a cardboard box I found in a closet. I think she actually likes it. I pat her head as she snuggles down over her eggs. Such a good momma chicken. I cringe at the thought of so many chicks running around the Inn. I need to look into how to build a chicken coop.

  I fix my coffee and it’s divine. Then I push a bagel in the toaster and smear on grape jam when it pops up. Tearing off a piece of the bread, I break it into tiny pieces and put it in a bowl for Henrietta along with a bowl of water. I’m not sure if chickens need water, but I feel like they should hydrate too. I’ll go to town tomorrow and ask Martin at the hardware store.

  After I clean up my mess, there’s one thing I must do before I start work and that’s call Lili. I was so scatterbrained yesterday, I forgot to check my landline phone connection. I pick up the bulky handset and hold it to my ear and mouth. I try it with the cord sticking up and I don’t hear anything. Then I turn it around where the cord is pointed down and I hear a low hum. I have no idea if that’s what I’m supposed to hear.

  As I stare at the round dial of numbers on the front of the phone, I realize I don’t know Lili’s number. Everything is programed into my phone’s contacts. I dig my phone out of my bag and, of course, it’s dead. Why wouldn’t it be since I can’t use it to make an actual call? I locate my charging cord and plug it in. I grab another cup of coffee while I wait to get enough battery to pull up Lili’s number.

  Who knew making a call was so labor intensive? Awkwardly, I put my finger in the number holes and since the dial only goes one way, towards the number one, I spin it that way. After putting one number in, I continue to the next. How this makes sense I’m not sure. I feel like I should ask Pat to buy a vowel. After spinning all ten numbers, a beeping alarm in my ear makes me jump.

  I slam the handset back on the silver hook and walk away from the phone. I am going to need a lesson in landlines.

  A noise at the front of the Inn sends me to investigate. I’m surprised to see Bode’s truck coming down the driveway, pulling a yellow trailer with some type of serious looking machine loaded on it.

  I step out on the porch, being careful to place my feet on non-rotted wood. Bode puts the truck in park, opens his door, and that’s when he sees me. His eyes pop open wide and he storms out of the truck, slamming the door.

  His lips are thinned into an angry line. “What in the hell are you wearing?”

  I look down to make sure the important bits are still covered. They are, so I’m confused why he’s making such a big deal.

  His gaze runs over me from bottom to top and my stomach clenches from his heated gaze. “Go put some clothes on. Clothes that cover your ass and tits.”

  His crude language breaks the Bode daze I’m lost in and my hackles rise. “What the fuck, Bode? Nobody tells me what I can or can’t wear. There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing. Agatha said all the island girls wear shorts like these.”

  Bode puts his hands on his hips and looks upward as if he were counting to ten. His timeout doesn’t help. “There aren’t any,” he explains through gritted teeth.

  Confused, I ask, “Any what?”

  “There aren’t any island girls. Mrs. Davidson is the youngest single female and I think she’s in her forties. Then there’s Brandy, Suzie, and Melissa, and I can assure you their husbands would never let them wear something like that. If Agatha sold you those, then she was playing to the male islanders.”

  That certainly was an unexpected thought. How could there not be single women my age on the island? “I never planned on wearing this in public. I just needed something more practical to work in. It’s your fault for showing up this morning.”

  I’ve had enough of Bode’s attitude. I give him one last glare and turn around to continue my cleaning.

  “Jesus,” Bode exclaims and I brake to a stop. “I can see the globes of your ass.”

  Slowly, I twirl around and find Bode’s eyes glued to that part of my anatomy and he looks like he wants to devour me. My nipples pop into pointy spikes and I’m afraid he’s going to see how wet he makes me since the shorts are so very short. “I’ll just, um…go change.”

  As I rush up the steps, I want to hold my ass cheeks to keep them from jiggling, but I resist. Instead, I put a little extra swagger in my hips. The gasp of breath coming from behind me is reward enough.

  I run straight up to the second floor with Henrietta following. The first thing I do is splash my overheated face with cold water. I have to get my body back under control. I’ll admit that I enjoy a good orgasm. What girl doesn’t? Maybe I’ve neglected my needs while dealing with Lili and all her drama for the past year.

  I pull on a pair of jeans from my shopping expedition with the work boots and pick out a pink t-shirt. My new hat completes the outfit. If I was going to be working outside all day, I would be sweating like a pig, but at least I’ll be protected from the sun and from Bode’s sexy eyes. At this point, I’m not sure which is the most dangerous.

  By the time I get back outside, Bode has the machine thing off the trailer. I still don’t know what he’s planning on doing with it. It kinda looks like a snowplow on steroids on one end and a digger scoop thingy on the other end. Before I c
an ask, Bode closes the space between us. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have acted so rudely or made such brash comments.”

  My brow pops into my hairline. A man who admits when he’s wrong? I am unfamiliar with the concept. “Thanks. I know those shorts are indecent, but I never would wear them in public. I just planned on working in the back yard today and I knew it would be hot.”

  He nods and really does look sorry. “What you have on is much better for working on landscaping. Your legs would have been scratched from all the brambles and thorns. So I thought I’d tackle clearing the worst of the overgrowth today.”

  I point and ask, “That’s what the big yellow machine is for?”

  Bode chuckles and pulls a pair of work gloves from his back pocket. I can’t help but notice how big and strong his hands are. “Yes, it’s a backhoe and a dozer. I’ll have it done in no time.”

  I moisten my parched lips with my tongue. “Great! What do you want me to do?”

  Bode insists I wear his work gloves—he had an extra pair in his truck—and assigns me the task of pulling weeds from the flower beds on the opposite side of the house. Little does he know I’m honestly not sure which is a weed and which would grow into a flower.

  Henrietta follows and struts around the yard pecking at the ground as she goes. My gaze keeps going back to Bode. There’s just something about a man and his machines. The bigger, the better. I pull my t-shirt away from my body and fan it against my overheated skin. “Have mercy, Henrietta. That’s one hot man.” Henrietta ruffles her feathers in agreement.

  We’d only been working for an hour when the first truck arrives. I shield my eyes from the sun to see who is coming down the drive. I look toward Bode, wondering if it is one of his landscaping guys, but judging by the snarly glare on his face, he’s not happy with my visitor.

  Mr. Cowell from the hardware store gets out of his truck and lifts a toolbox from the back. “Good morning, Kimberly,” he says with a cheery smile.

  I nod my head in greeting. “Mr. Cowell, Martin, what brings you by today?”

  “Well, now, I guess you could say I’m the handyman on the island. I came to lend a neighborly hand where needed. You just tell me what needs doing and I’ll take care of it for you.”

  I am stunned. Is this for real? “Oh, well, I suppose you could check the kitchen faucet. It’s still not working right.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” Martin smiles and tips his hat before heading up the porch steps. I watch him go with my mouth still hanging open. Is this what small towns are like? I glance at Bode and if looks could kill, Martin would be six foot under. I wonder what Bode has against him.

  After that, I lose all control. Wyatt Donahue and his sons stop by with a trailer full of wood planks and ask if I have anything that needs repairing. I point toward the porch and they get to work replacing the rotting wood.

  David Caldwell, Bode’s best friend, stops by to offer his services and he starts cutting the high grass in the yard with a mower I didn’t even know I had.

  Bode’s brother Case rolls in and asks about the golf cart. I have no idea where the golf cart is, but Case says to leave everything to him.

  By mid-morning, there are ten men working on the Inn while I answer their questions and direct their work from one project to the next. Some I had met before, others I hadn’t. Everyone is very helpful and friendly. Henrietta is one smart chick, though. She disappears without a trace.

  Around lunchtime, Agatha and Olivia, along with three other women, show up and start unloading folding tables and mountains of food for lunch. The tables are arranged under a big leafy tree for shade with mason jars filled with wildflowers as centerpieces. It’s perfect and gives me ideas of activities for the inn someday. When lunchtime is called, they make me feel like the popular girl in school because all the men want to sit beside me. Bode pushes his way through and ends half of the problem by sitting to my right. That leaves only one side of me to fight over. All the attention is a heady sensation.

  After lunch, the women attack the inside of the inn, determined to eradicate every speck of dust or dirt from the first floor.

  Steven Harrison, the pharmacist, finds more than a dozen wooden rocking chairs in a storage building and sands them down before painting them a fresh white.

  It’s impossible for me to keep up with everything going on in and outside my Inn. As far as windfalls go, I’m shocked by the generosity of my new hometown.

  A little after five, I wave as the last car pulls down the driveway. My head is still spinning. “I can’t believe they pitched in to help me out.”

  “I can,” Bode says sarcastically.

  My brow rises. Bode’s disposition had deteriorated throughout the day. I’m not sure what his problem is. “Well, I appreciate their efforts. What they accomplished in one day would have taken me months.” I twirl around and open my arms wide. “Just look at my Inn. You did a great job on the landscaping. It’s beautiful. Will you send me a bill, or I can settle up now if you’d prefer.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Bode, you can’t do that. I know that the plants alone are expensive and then there’s your labor.”

  “It’s a welcome gift, just like everyone else today.”

  Looking at the Inn, my emotions rise inside me and I do a very un-Kimmie like thing. My eyes fill with tears. No one has ever done something for me without an agenda. That’s part of being from a rich family. I don’t think anyone here has put together who I’m related to. That just means their gifts were given from some place other than wanting something in return. I’ve never experienced that.

  “Hey,” Bode says as he turns me toward him. He brushes away the tears streaking down my face with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug and try to pass it off, but his touch is doing weird things to me. I look up into his concerned eyes. “It’s just overwhelming. Everyone here is so kind and giving and expects nothing in return.”

  He pulls me in for a hug and I hadn’t realized how badly I needed one. I look up and find him focused on my mouth. I think Bode is leaning in, but he doesn’t. He drops his arms and steps back before stuffing his hands in his pockets, and I miss his touch. “Well, I guess I should get going. Let me know when you want to start the back.”

  I want you to stay. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Bode, for all you did today.”

  “No problem.” His gaze meets mine and I think he’s going to say something more, but he doesn’t. Halfway to his truck, he pauses and turns on his heels with military precision and marches right back to me. My eyes widen at the determined look on his face. Without a word, he holds my face between his hands and kisses me. My eyes flutter closed and he deepens the kiss. His tongue explores and caresses until I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop. All I can hear is white noise as a shock goes from my nipples to my clit. Kissing Bode consumes my body and mind.

  Minutes or hours later when he raises his head, breaking our bond and depriving me of his mouth, my eyes sluggishly open. My sight blurs and I feel punch-drunk.

  With his chest heaving, Bode says, “There. Remember that.” This time he stomps back to his truck, gets in, slamming the door a might too hard.

  I touch my ravished mouth, swollen and tender from his kiss. My lips twist into a confused curve as I watch Bode pull down the driveway with the backhoe trailered behind him. That is one confusing man.

  I didn’t come here for a relationship. Lili always said that when you least expect it, love finds you. Love? No. this isn’t love. Lust maybe.

  I was literally kissed stupid…and I liked it. I’ve got to call Lili. She’ll never believe it.

  Chapter 9

  Bode

  Once again, I find myself in the back of the town hall at another called emergency meeting. Damn fool men.

  “We need a schedule,” Wyatt points out. “She needs to get to know each of us separately. How can she decide who she wants to marry if we all show up in a herd?”
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  Homer jumps up out of his seat quicker than I thought he could move. “What about dates? I asked her out and she turned me down. Somebody needs to tell her she can’t do that. All of us need an equal chance at her.”

  I roll my eyes at such an asinine comment. I cross my arms and grin, pleased that she turned him down.

  Agatha raises a disgruntled brow. “Homer, you fool. If we tell her that, we’ll have to tell her the real reason for the contest. I told you all we shouldn’t pick the prettiest woman. Besides, she’s not going to want an old coot like you. You’re old enough to be her father.”

  Martin laughs and adds, “Grandfather, if you ask me.”

  That brings a wave of laughter from the crowd. I grit my teeth when my own brother stands and points at me. “What about Bode? He’s already spent more time with her than the rest of us and he’s not even in the running. He doesn’t want a wife or a relationship. If he sleeps with her, I think there should be a penalty.”

  Mayor Hershel raps his gavel until everyone settles down. “Now, Bode has just as much right to a chance with Kimberly as the rest of us. Homer, we can’t insist she date anyone. We all agreed that the decision of who to marry would be left to Kimberly. You are all too impatient. She’s been here less than a week. You just can’t rush a relationship.”

  Tom, one of Wyatt Donahue’s sons, pushes to his feet. “Then let’s have more contests and get more women here.”

  The crowd cheers in agreement. Tom’s brother Ed points out, “Yeah, we have plenty of businesses to offer.”

  Rod Murphy, the ferry owner and my own uncle, raises his hand and mutters, “I want a coffee shop. There’s no place to get a decent cup around here since Hazel’s closed.”

  Not to be left out, Griffin jumps in. “And a restaurant. I can’t eat any more of Al’s food at Edda Mae’s. It gives me heartburn that keeps me up at night.”