Home to the Riverview Inn

by Molly O'Keefe

  If he had smiled indulgently, if he had laughed, she might have stood and walked away, but he didn’t. He handled her great vulnerability with care and she realized, this man who’d felt so rejected his whole life, had the same vulnerability.

  “Because there is no one else in the world like you,” he said. “No one who makes me happy. No one who challenges me and makes me try to be better than I am. Just you, Daphne. Just you.”

  Oh, that was nice. That was actually the nicest thing she’d ever heard in her life. All the damage that she held on to, all the terrible feelings that being left by the men in her life had caused to rattle around her body, up and left. Banished under the light of his eyes.

  “And that’s why I’m staying,” he said. “Because I love you too much to leave.”

  “I love you, too,” she said. And then adding her voice to the roar in her heart, she added, “I love you too much to let you go.”

  He pulled her into his arms, his hands making a mess of her hair, his breath a hot flush on her neck. “So it’s a deal?” he asked. “Negotiations over?”

  “Over.” She sighed.

  “You’ll marry me?” he asked, his beautiful face so joyous and stunned.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. And the smile transformed to laughter that she couldn’t control and she clutched him to her, trying to absorb him, to open her heart and pull him right in.

  “It feels so good.”

  “What does?” he asked, stroking away her tears.

  “Letting love in.”

  His smile was beautiful. Brighter than the sun, the only thing she needed to keep her warm for the rest of her life. “Yes,” he agreed. “It does.”

  Epilogue

  Four years later

  “Wow, Mom,” Helen said, accepting the pink bundle from Jonah’s hands like the old pro she was now. “This gets easier every time, doesn’t it?”

  “Does it?” Daphne asked from the bed, not sounding convinced. Jonah smiled and kissed his wife, the mother of his babies, the reason he had to live most days. “Because from here,” she said, looking tired but slightly drunk from the drugs and the euphoria, “it’s not so easy.”

  “You did great,” Jonah told her, still awed by the strength of this woman.

  “It was easier,” Daphne said, stroking his cheek. “Third time and all. How are you doing?”

  He pressed his face to hers, put his hand in her hair. “Like I’m going to burst,” he said. “Like I’m just going to pop.”

  He felt the small burst of her laugh and baby Iris started to squawk in Helen’s arms.

  “Here,” Daphne said, reaching for the newborn. “I’ll feed her and you go get the family. I’m sure they’re ready to storm the gates. I can hear Garth from here.”

  Jonah agreed and tucked his preteen stepdaughter under his arm, hugging her hard because he loved her so much, and opened the door to the hallway. To a hallway filled with Daphne’s mom Gloria, her boyfriend and Mitchells.

  Lots and lots of Mitchells.

  Garth, his two-year-old, flung himself into the room, running to Daphne’s bed, and Helen moved to help him up so he could see his new sister. Gloria followed, her eyes damp.

  But there were his parents. Iris was crying and she didn’t even know they’d named the baby after her. His brothers and their kids were there. Delia and Alice holding toddlers. Josie, with her shadow Stella beside her, was such a beautiful young woman.

  Only Cameron, who Alice and Gabe had adopted when he was seventeen so he wouldn’t be sent back to the group home after his dad died, was missing.

  “Everything okay?” Patrick asked into the charged silence.

  The earth tipped. Spun slightly.

  My family, Jonah thought. Wondering why the room was suddenly on a Tilt-A-Whirl.

  “Hey.” Gabe stepped up and grabbed his arm, and Max was right beside him. “You all right? You’re not going to puke, are you?”

  “You can puke,” Max said because he’d puked when Delia gave birth to Thomas. Well, after. From the nerves, he’d said. “Puking is fine.”

  “Son?” Patrick asked and Jonah swung his gaze to his father’s identical blue eyes.

  He lifted his hand to the trembling skin over his heart. His family in front of him, the sound of his wife laughing, his children talking behind him.

  When did you all get here? he wondered, feeling his heart expand. When did I let you in?

  “I love you.” The words spilled out of his mouth. He turned to his brothers, his mother. His father who had never heard the words from him. “I love all of you.”

  And he passed out cold.

  * * *

  Thank you so much for picking up a copy of Home To The Riverview Inn! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. I hope you’ll consider writing a review!

  Preorder Cameron and Josie’s story - Christmas At The Riverview Inn NOW. It will be released in October 2020.

  And Helen’s story - Second Chance At The Riverview Inn will be available in May 2021.

  * * *

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  Now for an sneak peek of Christmas At The Riverview Inn

  Chapter one

  * * *

  5 years ago

  August

  Cameron

  * * *

  It was Josie Mitchell’s 21st birthday and she was drunk as an adorable skunk.

  And Cameron was in the tenth circle of hell. Did hell have that many circles? Whatever, he’d found a new one. Charting undiscovered hell territory – of course he’d be good at that.

  “That was a great night,” she said, looking up at him from the passenger seat of his car. He stood by the door, waiting for her to get out. She wasn’t getting out.

  “I’m glad you had fun. Do you… need help?”

  “No,” she said indignantly and then all but fell out of the car.

  “Okay, I gotcha,” he said, getting her to her feet and then propping her up against the car. Where she slid like she just had no bones towards the front wheel.

  “I had fun because of you,” she said, catching herself. “You made it possible, Cameron.”

  “Well…” he didn’t know what to say to that so he let the word trail off and grabbed her by the waist and shut the passenger door. The sound of the slamming door sent some animal scurrying off in the bush and he hoped he didn’t just wake up the whole family.

  “You give the best gifts,” she said, turning to look at him which meant her face was so close. He could turn his head and…

  Do not turn your head.

  His present to her had been chauffeur service for her and her cousin Helen from The Riverview Inn – her family’s lodge in the Catskill Mountains – down to the bars in town. So, she could have fun and be safe on her 21st birthday.

  And he could be a part of it in a way that wasn’t creepy.

  “Well, you’re no slouch either,” he said. The only way he knew how to take a compliment was to deflect it.

  “Okay, five questions,” she said.

  “Josie.”

  “No. It’s my turn. You five question me all the time.”

  “Fine. Go.” He pretended to be annoyed. But mostly he was just nervous, not sure what questions might come out of drunk Josie’s mouth. This was a game they started playing to pass the time the year Max made them clear the far meadow the summer before she went to college. Top five favorite movies. Top five favorite television show finales – those were her type of questions. Top five ways to eat potatoes. Five worst things you’ve ever eaten – those were his.

  “Best gift you ever got?”

  “The coffee maker you got me on my birthday.” It was this high tech, expensive camping thing that fit in the palm of his hand. He loved it so much. He loved that she knew he would love it. “But the year you got me all the Bourdain books. That was a good year, too.”

  “I need to replace those. You’ve read them to p
ieces and…” she paused. Hiccuped. They stopped, a stone clattering off his shoe.

  “Are you going to throw up?” he asked.

  “Totally not,” she said like she was offended. Which meant there was a fifty-fifty chance she was going to puke. He got them walking again. A little faster now.

  Tonight, all he did was drive her and Helen around playing Beyonce at top volume. He’d wanted to take her camping up to this place he’d found way up in the mountains behind the lodge, where there was a lake so clear and blue it looked like a sky. A place he knew she would love. But then he’d thought about being in a tent with her and rejected the idea.

  He’d thought this would be better.

  Stupid me.

  “You are such a good guy,” Josie breathed. Her breath was like 80% alcohol, he was getting drunk just being close to her. “Did you know that?”

  “Yep,” he said, trying to keep her on her feet and also open the back door. But she kept melting. Against him. Against the door. She was a puddle of Josie in the way of everywhere he was trying to be.

  “No,” she grabbed his face. Ouch. A little rough, there, Jos. And he thought she might be going for some kind of stern look, some kind of serious -I-mean -business type look. But she was too drunk. And too dear to manage it.

  God. She is beautiful.

  As quickly as he thought that, he stopped. He was good at that after all these years. Thinking a thing he shouldn’t and then just…not.

  “You’re my best friend,” she said.

  “I know.”

  He got the door open, managed to get them inside the dark and cool kitchen. No one was here, or waiting up.

  Thank God.

  But they were all sleeping here at the lodge. Alice and her husband Gabe. Max and Josie’s Mom, Delia. If they weren’t quiet he’d have a million Mitchell’s in here.

  “Cameron,” she said. “You have to listen to me.”

  He actually laughed. “Josie. I’m listening. I’m a good guy and I’m your best friend. You’re mine, too.” These were things they didn’t actually say out loud. Like saying it out loud might tip the chemistry of their friendship into that place he was trying to avoid. Trying not to look at. Trying to pretend didn’t exist.

  And, frankly, pretending was easier when they weren’t touching.

  He stepped away, setting down his bag and she leaned back against the wall looking… Jesus.

  “You need to drink some water,” he said and quickly turned away to get her a glass.

  “Cameron,” she said. “You could do literally anything, you know that, right?”

  This again. “You Mitchell’s are really into telling me that these days.” It was like they were trying to get rid of him. He’d turned twenty-six and the suddenly his future was all anyone wanted to talk about.

  Which was weird because in so many ways he still felt like the shitty sixteen-year-old kid he’d been. He’d skipped school and gotten caught stealing a car and no one at home gave a shit. He’d been surprised the judge had and sent him to The Riverview for community service with Max instead of juvie.

  Max, Josie’s adopted Dad had been his first boss here. But then he met Alice, who was in charge of the kitchens and he’d traded Max and constant chopping wood for Alice and the kitchen. And it changed his life.

  But ten years later and he still didn’t know what he supposed to do without the Mitchell’s? Alice? This kitchen?

  Josie.

  “Another one of my five questions. I still have some left.”

  “Not really.”

  She ignored him. “What do you want to do with your life?”

  This. Right now. The Riverview Inn kitchen and you. Every day, all day.

  “What do you want to do?” He asked, deflecting again. His great talent.

  “Write amazing television. I want to make people cry. And change people’s minds. And make them stay up all night to just watch one more episode.” He smiled at her passion. “But the question is for you,” she said.

  His silence was maybe damning. But if he opened his mouth the words he could not say would come out. Love you.

  “You are smart. And funny. And you work hard and you’re a great chef.”

  “Thanks, Josie,” he said and brought her the water. “I’ll put you down as a reference if I ever get another job.” She took one gulping sip. Most of which splashed down her neck and handed the glass back. He ignored the water dripping across her chest into the top of her dress.

  “You…you could come to New York with me. You could get a job in a kitchen. Alice would give you a letter of recommendation and I just got that job at the network and between the two of us we could swing rent. And it would be fun? Wouldn’t it? You and me? The big city?”

  The words were quiet but they went through him like arrows. Piercing his brain. His chest. His dick.

  With you how? He wanted to ask. As your boyfriend. As your friend?

  Again, with long long looooong practice. He thought the thought and put it away.

  “That’s more than five questions,” he said.

  “Cam-“

  “Let’s talk about this in the morning,” he said and smiled at her. “You need help getting upstairs?”

  Please say no. Say no. Please.

  He’d touched her more on the way from the car to the house than he had in years and the whole left side of his body was raw and eclectic and his dick was half-hard and he felt like an animal and the luckiest guy in the world.

  “I’m fine,” she said. And pushed off the wall, over compensated and nearly fell into the stainless steel table in the center of the room.

  “Sure you are. Come on.”

  Girding himself. Trying, like it was even a thing that could be done, to remove all sense of feeling on the side of his body touching her, he put his arm around her back and lifted her into standing.

  “Hi,” she smiled at him and his heart bobbed.

  “Hi.”

  He walked them through the dark kitchen into the big main room with the fireplace and the wall of windows. Moonlight slid in great blocks across the floor, making their skin seem ghostly.

  Cameron was painfully, excruciatingly aware of Josie’s body against his side. The press of her leg. Her arm around his shoulders. He could smell her. Summer night and sweat and whatever sweet thing she’d been drinking. Cherries, probably. And green jello shots. If he kissed her she’d taste like an artificial fruit salad.

  When he’d had this brilliant chauffeur idea, he had not considered this. This being alone with her. Soft and pliant and happy and smelling so sweet. He had not considered the hell of the bright red filaments of her hair stuck to his neck in the heat.

  And he knew that it never occurred to him because he’d gotten so good at not noticing this stuff about her. Because he’d done everything in his power the last few years to not be with her like this. To be just friends.

  Not touch her.

  Not be close enough to smell her.

  Or feel her.

  Not think of her pretty eyes or the way she looked when the sun hit her just right. Or how her laugh, when she really got going was like a gong that echoed through his whole body.

  And now she was drunk and he felt like an absolute asshole because he was absolutely soaking it in. Like he could not get enough of her skin on his.

  Dude. She’s drunk.

  There were plenty of people in his life, in this town that thought the worst of him because of his mom and dad. Who wouldn’t be surprised if he groped a drunk girl. But The Riverview – Alice and Max, they believed the best of him.

  Max even said it to them before he left with Josie tonight. I trust you with my daughter.

  Cameron wasn’t going to betray that trust. Ever.

  So, he tried, as best he could to put distance between them somehow.

  Up the stairs. To her room. Good night and get the hell out of here, man.

  “Cam,” her voice was low as they made their way towards the stairs. “I
need to tell you something…”

  “Yeah?” he said, trying to shift her just a little. He could feel the sweat on the inside of her arms and it was so far from gross. He wanted to run his hand from her wrist to her elbow, gathering all of it in his palm. He wanted to lick his hand.

  He wanted to kiss her shoulder and taste her. God. He wanted to taste her.

  “I love you.”

  The words sent sparks through his body and everything he felt for her – all the pent up shit he’d been dealing with since she was a kid, it was dry kindling. It was explosives. A barn full of fireworks.

  He laughed, ruthlessly stomping out the spark. “All right, drunky. You love everyone.”

  They made it to the first landing and he braced her against the wall, getting away from her as best he could.

  “No,” she said, grabbing onto him. Her hands clutching his shirt. His arm. “I mean, sure. But… “ she took a deep breath. “I love you especially.”

  He turned his face away. Cameron didn’t pray. His mother did and he saw how that got her a whole bunch of nothing. But right now he prayed for the strength to resist this.

  I trust you with my daughter.

  “Do you think of me… like that?”

  All the time. Every minute. You would be horrified to know what I think of you. You would blush so hard you’d just be ash. And saying it out loud would make me blush so hard I’d be ash.

  “Josie. You’re drunk. Let’s not talk about this now.” He pulled her off the wall. The room she liked to use in the lodge was three doors down. A hundred feet. If that. He just needed to get her into her room and himself away from her.

  Pulled by him, she stumbled forward, colliding with his body.

  “Careful,’ he murmured, trying to keep her on her feet. And then she did the impossible. The disastrous. She grabbed his face. Forcing him to look at her. Right at her.

  Growing up he didn’t believe in love. There was no sign of it in his house. No proof that it existed. Coming here it took him a second to believe that all this love the Mitchell’s had and tossed around like it was all so easy was even real. It felt at best fake. At worst like a trap. And he believed for as long as he could that every single Mitchell was a sucker.