Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1)

by Catherine Bybee

“I’ll forward you the pictures,” Mel told her.

  Zoe pointed up into the tree. “Make sure you catch that.”

  She pointed her camera toward the sky and snapped a few more angles of the mess.

  “Epic,” Luke muttered.

  As soon as Mel helped the last of the inn’s guests check out, she found Miss Gina standing on the far south lawn with a can of spray paint in her hands. Miss Gina tossed back a long strand of her peppered hair with a curse and continued to lay lines in the grass.

  “Do I even want to ask?”

  Miss Gina didn’t bother looking up as she held the can in one hand, the edges of her skirt in the other, and walked backward as she sprayed. “They don’t make these things like they used to,” she complained. “Stupid—” She cut herself off and shook the can in her hand before attempting to draw her line in the lawn.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Redecorating. What does it look like?”

  “Looks like you’re painting the lawn pink.”

  Miss Gina straightened and admired the large box she’d managed to draw.

  “I think that’s big enough . . . don’t you?”

  “What’s it supposed to be?”

  “A house.”

  Melanie blinked a few times. “A what?”

  Miss Gina rested her hands on her hips. “No kitchen. I don’t need a kitchen,” she started to ramble. “Just a bedroom, bathroom . . . a living space with a fireplace. Simple space.”

  The box on the lawn took a different shape in Melanie’s head.

  “You’re adding a guest house?”

  Miss Gina lifted her hands in the air and motioned in air quotes. “Additional guest quarters.”

  “But the inn isn’t booked up again until—”

  Miss Gina waved her off. “This isn’t for guests. Well, officially . . . for taxes and anyone who asks, yeah . . . guests. But it’s for me.”

  “You have a room—”

  Miss Gina pointed her can of pink spray paint back toward the ground and splattered pink everywhere. “The innkeeper’s room is for the innkeeper . . . that would be you. I need my own space. I deserve my own space, don’t you think?”

  A chill shimmered over Melanie’s spine. Equal amounts of uncertainty and unexpected pleasure clamored for space inside her head.

  “Well shit . . . I forgot a closet.”

  “Wait . . . what if things don’t work out?”

  “I should probably have two closets, right? One in the bedroom and another in the living room. Something for storage?”

  Clearly, Miss Gina was planning on an extended stay in her not a guest room guest room. But what if Melanie sucked at being an innkeeper? What if Hope became too much trouble for Miss Gina? Already Miss Gina had played surrogate grandmother, though she preferred the title of aunt to grandma. Hope already gravitated to Miss Gina’s side of the room whenever she was close by.

  “Mommy, look who I found.” Hope bounded toward them, her hand caught in Wyatt’s. “See, I told you they were out here.”

  Wyatt kept up with Hope’s energetic stride as she tugged him toward the backyard.

  “Right on time. I hope you brought a tape measure,” Miss Gina said.

  “I have one in my truck.”

  “What are you doing, Miss Gina?” Hope asked once they stopped short of the painted box on the ground.

  Melanie lifted her gaze to Wyatt’s and shivered. His smile caught in his eyes and warmed her belly. The image of him standing there holding her daughter’s hand didn’t go unnoticed. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he said, staring.

  She should have felt the need to squirm; instead she squared her shoulders and let him look his fill. She wore blue jeans and a button-up blouse, but he still looked at her as if she were dressed in the little black dress she’d worn the night before.

  “You said it was an emergency, Miss Gina.”

  “It is. This needs to be done before fall sets in and the rain keeps you from finishing it.”

  Wyatt finally looked away. “What needs to be done?”

  Miss Gina waved her hands wide. “Isn’t it obvious? I need a guest house.”

  “A guest house isn’t an emergency. Broken pipes, yes . . . new construction—”

  “Don’t bicker with me.” She pointed the spray paint at him with a shake of her wrist. “We need to jump on this and I want you to do the job.”

  “A guest house?”

  “More guest quarters. I don’t need a kitchen. Well, maybe a tiny kitchen. A refrigerator for my lemonade.”

  Melanie chuckled.

  “Can you build a whole house?” Hope asked Wyatt.

  He offered a simple nod.

  Hope swung her head, her ponytail smacking Wyatt’s arm. “Wow. Can I help? I’m a good helper.”

  “Hope, I don’t think—”

  “Of course you can. How about you run to my truck and bring me my pad of paper and the pencil sitting on the passenger seat.”

  And she was gone, running around the inn to fill his request.

  “She doesn’t jump that fast to help me out,” Mel said.

  “Your daughter loves me, what can I say?” He ran a hand through his hair with a smirk.

  “If you two are done flirting, we can get on with this.” Miss Gina walked to the far side of her box and started her list. “One bedroom, full bath with a closet. The walk-in kind . . .”

  Hope rushed back to Wyatt’s side, out of breath, and handed him his papers.

  He ruffled her daughter’s hair and turned his attention to Miss Gina. Instead of insisting Hope find something to do other than bug Wyatt, Melanie left her to him and walked back inside the inn.

  There were rooms that needed cleaning. It was time to start making sure she was doing the job she was getting paid for. Since arriving in River Bend, Melanie had spent more time socializing than working.

  As the afternoon wore on, she’d occasionally glance outside and find Wyatt placating her daughter by handing her a tape measure or something equally as safe. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was entertaining her daughter as a way of working his way closer to her. Not that he needed the help. Thinking about the man had become an hourly pastime since his almost kiss on the track field. What kind of kisser would he be? The good kind, she imagined. The thought alone gave her butterflies. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed.

  So why had she stopped him?

  Fear.

  She hated that about herself. The last time she was in River Bend fear wasn’t part of her vocabulary. Then life’s punches reminded her how much it hurt to get hit.

  Her best friends didn’t seem to suffer from the same paralyzing thoughts. Granted, neither Jo nor Zoe were involved with anyone, but it wasn’t fear keeping them from it.

  Jo was cursed with being the town cop. It was kinda hard to have a fling or an anything when she overpowered the single men in town.

  And Zoe . . . the image of Luke staring Zoe’s way most of the night before kept coming to the surface. He wasn’t over her. While Zoe said she had moved on . . . Melanie wasn’t so sure.

  So far no one in her close circle of friends was winning in the romance category. Not even Miss Gina had found herself a lover. At least not that Mel had caught on to, in any event.

  She shouldn’t be thinking about Miss Gina’s sex life while fishing out a towel that had been tossed under one of the guest room’s beds.

  “There you are.”

  The sound of Wyatt’s voice had Mel tossing her head up too fast. The back of it caught the edge of the bed.

  “Ouch!” She wasn’t sure what was more unflattering . . . her ass sticking in the air as she retrieved someone else’s castoffs or her clumsy move that made a few stars sparkle in her head.

  With a quick twist,
she plopped on the floor, her ass no longer flying, and grasped her head. “That hurt.” And it did. Right down to her toes.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  When she opened her eyes, Wyatt was kneeling, his hand over hers holding the back of her skull.

  “Are you okay?”

  Melanie grumbled and rolled her eyes. “A little warning next time, Mr. Ripper.”

  Wyatt smiled at her dig and sighed.

  She couldn’t stop the smile any more than she could ignore the man who stood close.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Melanie didn’t do speechless often, but the compliment was so unexpected she didn’t know how to respond.

  Wyatt removed his hand from hers and slowly pushed a lock of hair from her eyes.

  Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips and he drew in a sharp breath.

  Without warning, without an open invitation . . . he was there.

  His lips were soft, warm, and electric. Everything inside her tensed, and those butterflies that appeared with the thought of his kiss turned into majestic birds in full flight.

  She moaned. The sound surprised her nearly as much as his kiss. Her breath caught and her eyes closed. And for the first time in forever . . . Melanie just felt.

  Wyatt’s lips, his tongue seeking acceptance . . . his hand as it rested on the side of her face, tilting it up to reach his . . . it was wonderful. Knock her out of her panties wonderful.

  For a brief moment, she felt Wyatt move away.

  She dug her fingers into his shoulder and didn’t let him move. He may have started the kiss, but she’d be damned if he ended it. A woman had to hold some power, after all.

  The slight laugh under his kiss prompted her hand down his chest.

  His laughter ended and she wasn’t the only one moaning.

  “Melanie!”

  Her name, like nails on a chalkboard, irrevocably pulled her from the single best moment in her life.

  The kiss ended as abruptly as it began, but Melanie didn’t let go.

  Instead, she held tight as if Wyatt was a shield against the dark magic of a known enemy.

  Her eyes shot open and landed on the one person she never wanted to see ever again in her life.

  “Nathan.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The dark suit hanging off Nathan’s shoulders was as out of place as the man himself.

  Melanie scrambled to her feet, her hand grasping ahold of Wyatt’s. “What are you doing here?”

  A practiced smile lifted the corner of Nathan’s lips. “It’s good to see you, too, precious.”

  The pet name he’d used for her back when made her cringe now. “Don’t . . . just don’t.”

  “Who is this guy?” Wyatt took the space in front of her, keeping Nathan at a distance. This close, he threatened the very air in the room.

  Nathan stared Wyatt down. “I’m Hope’s father.”

  She wanted to deny him the title, but couldn’t.

  “And Melanie’s husband.”

  “No! You’re not. I am not . . .” She dug her fingernails into Wyatt’s arm tighter. “We didn’t.” Good God, why was she babbling? “What are you doing here, Nathan?”

  “I’m here to see—”

  “Mommy?”

  Oh, God, Hope.

  There were times when she and Nathan had been together when he’d turn his head in just the right way, grin ever so much, and she knew trouble sat behind his eyes.

  Melanie heard Hope’s feet running up the stairs and she pushed past both the men in the room. She lifted a hand in the air.

  “Don’t you even think about it, Nathan. She doesn’t know you.”

  “She’s mine, too.”

  Every muscle in her tensed and heat rose in her head. “I don’t know why you’re here, but you aren’t going to mess up my daughter with whatever game you’re playing.”

  “Mommy?” Hope was just a few feet away.

  “Don’t follow me, Nathan.” She wasn’t sure he’d follow her command, but she turned her back on him and headed Hope off before she could reach the men.

  “There’s a car in the driveway,” Hope said as she reached the top step.

  Melanie glanced behind her and grasped Hope’s arm. “Really? Let’s go find the driver.”

  “I looked and looked.”

  She all but dragged Hope down the stairs and out the front door.

  According to the sticker in the window, Nathan had rented a town car in Eugene.

  What the hell was he up to? It had been close to six years since she’d seen him. Last she’d heard he was off to some fancy law school and struggling to stay in.

  “Maybe they’re around back?” Melanie pulled Hope to where she’d last seen Miss Gina.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “C’mon.”

  Miss Gina sat on the back porch, a glass of lemonade in her hand, a cigarette in the other. “Did you find our guest?”

  Hope shook her head.

  Melanie stopped short and knelt to Miss Gina’s level. “I need you to keep Hope out here with you,” she whispered in her ear.

  Miss Gina offered a slow smile. “Wyatt, eh?”

  Melanie squeezed her eyes shut. “No . . . just please. I’ll explain later.”

  Miss Gina narrowed her eyes. “You okay?”

  She said yes, and shook her head no.

  The older woman took the hint and patted the swinging chair beside her. “Hope, hon . . . what do you say we try and sweet-talk Wyatt into building a tree fort?”

  “Like a tree house? Really?”

  “Yeah, like a tree house.”

  “Do you think I can have a puppy? I’ve always wanted a puppy.”

  “One thing at a time,” Miss Gina said.

  Melanie disappeared through the back door and ran up the back stairs that led from the kitchen.

  Wyatt and Nathan were standing exactly where she’d left them. Nathan with a shitty grin, Wyatt wore an angry frown.

  She pointed at Nathan. “You. Out.”

  “I’m here to see Hope.”

  “You’re not going to see her. Not today.” Not ever if Melanie could manage that.

  “Melanie . . .”

  His tone set her off even more than his presence. “Don’t Melanie me.” She shook a hand in his face. “You have no right to interrupt my life.”

  His smile fell and he moved forward.

  She stiffened and Wyatt stepped between them.

  “I have every right.”

  If it wasn’t for Wyatt’s hand holding her back, she might have slapped the smug look off Nathan’s face. “Don’t make me call the sheriff and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Nathan had the balls to smile. “This is an inn, a public place. I’m looking for a room.”

  It was time for Melanie to smile. “I’m the innkeeper, and I have the right to refuse service to anyone.”

  He rocked back on his heels and sighed. “I just want to see my daughter.”

  She didn’t want to remind him the last time they spoke he accused her of sleeping around and questioned Hope’s DNA. One thing was for sure, Nathan wasn’t here for Hope. He had another agenda. He hadn’t wanted to be a dad before, and she didn’t think for a second he wanted to be a dad now.

  “I can get a court order, Melanie.”

  For the first time since Nathan walked in the room, Wyatt attempted to intervene with words. “It’s safe to say your presence isn’t expected,” he told Nathan. “Maybe you two should talk outside of the inn, away from Hope, and come to some kind of agreement.”

  Melanie wanted to scream, argue, throw really heavy objects that hit her target with a thud! “Fine.”

  “I saw a diner in town. How about noon tomorrow?” Nathan asked.


  “I can’t. I’m working.”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Then the evening.”

  “Still working.”

  “Melanie?” His placating look of disbelief took over his face.

  The urge to slap him was huge.

  “Tuesday, eleven o’clock, at Sam’s.”

  “That’s two days away.”

  “Next time call before you pop into my life.” It felt good to take control.

  His smirk unnerved her as his eyes traveled down her frame. “Always did like your feistiness.”

  Wyatt took a step in front of her, cutting off Nathan’s view. “I think you need to leave.”

  “I’ll show myself out.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to get lost,” Wyatt said with a sweep of his hand toward the door.

  As much as she wanted to stay behind and crumble on the half-made bed, she followed them down the stairs and split away when Wyatt walked Nathan out the front door. Melanie detoured toward the back until she heard her daughter’s conversation with Miss Gina. The sound of a car starting, and the kicking up of the gravel in the drive, gave her pause.

  He was gone.

  She leaned against the wall between the kitchen and the sitting room and held her head with one hand. She didn’t look up until Wyatt’s boots stood beside her.

  “I’m sorry for the drama,” she said without looking up.

  “You didn’t invite it.”

  “What is he doing here? Why now?” Why when she was finally making positive decisions in her life instead of just letting life lead her in whatever direction it wanted to?

  “Maybe he just wants to see his daughter.”

  No, she didn’t believe it. Why would he use the old line about her being his wife? He used it when they first met to lay claim . . . to offer legitimacy to their illegitimate daughter. To placate his parents. “It’s more than that.”

  “I’m not sure I can help since I don’t have all the details. My guess is your girlfriends do.”

  Melanie actually groaned. Jo would just shoot him, and Zoe would sauté what was left in butter and garlic. But Wyatt had a point. Between Nathan’s bullying and her embarrassment, Mel hadn’t called on her friends the first time around, and look where it had gotten her.

  She groaned again.