by Annie Rains
After a quick rinse, he dressed and drove his truck to the century-old inn at the end of Mistletoe Lane. It was a large two-story Victorian home with navy blue shutters. The wraparound porch featured several wooden swings for guests to sit and enjoy the mountain air and scenery. In Mitch’s mind, the view was the best part. From this location, the mountains dipped and rose over his cozy hometown nestled deep in the valley. He’d always thought they seemed to encase and protect Sweetwater Springs. But that was before the car accident. He’d been an inexperienced driver on the icy mountain roads that night and more than his life had veered off course.
All in a blink of an eye. In a single heartbeat. Life had swerved left and had never made itself right again.
His cell phone rang beside him as he parked in the B&B’s driveway. It was still early in the civilian world but not in the military.
“Yeah?” he said, cutting the engine.
“Mitch. Hey, man. This is Jim Smalley.”
Relief flooded Mitch at the sound of the man’s voice on the other end of the line. It was his contact with the security firm in Virginia. Jim was supposed to call when everything was lined up. The sooner, the better. “Jim,” Mitch said, feeling a smile lift through his cheeks. This was the perfect excuse to give Kaitlyn for why he couldn’t stay.
“Bad news,” Jim said, cutting to the chase. “There’s a hang-up with the funding for the job.”
Mitch’s smile fell like a stack of heavy bricks. “How long?”
“Probably not until right after the new year.”
“I see.” Today was October twenty-ninth. What was Mitch supposed to do until January?
“I’ll give you a call when I know more but I wanted to give you a heads-up. That’s how these contracts go sometimes. The job is yours when it opens, but I understand if you need to find something else.”
“No. I’ll wait,” Mitch said. “Thanks for calling, Jim.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be in touch.”
Mitch disconnected the call and sighed. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess the infamous Meddling Mable was sabotaging his plans from heaven. Well, she must know that he was just as stubborn as she was.
“Still not staying, Mable,” he said under his breath in case she was listening. Then he glanced at his watch. It was earlier than the time he’d agreed upon with Kaitlyn. Well, maybe having someone knock on her door at this early hour would serve as a wake-up call. Once Kaitlyn realized the reality of the situation, she could go back to wherever she’d been holed up all these years. New York, he thought he remembered Mable telling him. The delay in his contract job didn’t change his mind about staying in this town one bit. He’d been wise with his money over the years, not just sending some to his mom but also putting a portion away in savings. Two months without a paycheck—if it came to that—wouldn’t break him. Two months of staying in his hometown, however, just might.
Climbing the porch steps, he felt a wave of sentimentality about the fact that Mable would never again greet him at the door with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Even as a grown man, she’d met him with a batch—and he’d never resisted. For one, Mable Russo was a hard woman to say no to. Two, he’d always believed her cookies had some secret ingredient that made a person feel better just by taking a bite. He could use some of Mable’s cookies right about now.
He rang the doorbell and waited. It took several minutes, which he assumed meant Kaitlyn was still asleep. Then the door opened, and she surprised him, dressed in a peach-colored sweater and fitted jeans with her dark hair pulled neatly into a ponytail. She definitely hadn’t just dragged herself out of bed.
“Hi,” she said, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Sorry it took me a minute. Had to get these out of the oven.” A smile bloomed on her fresh face. No sign of pillow creases in sight.
He looked between her and the plate, the scent of chocolate and butter circulating under his nose, mixed with something acutely female.
“Grandma Mable didn’t have much in the cupboards. She did have the ingredients for cookies though. Except for the milk and eggs, but I stopped on the way into town for those staples last night.”
Mitch’s mouth watered.
“I thought this could be our breakfast. I have coffee too, if you want some.”
It was hard to be anything but agreeable when she was offering him caffeine and sugar. He gave a quick nod and stepped inside after her. The front room seemed less dusty than it had the night before. The floors shined beneath his boots too. “Looks like you’ve been hard at work.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she led him toward the kitchen. “It was a late night for me. I couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”
“Yeah? About what?” Certainly not about this place. She’d cleaned, sure, but there was still a laundry list of things to be done. The inside of the house was livable, albeit dusty and in need of minor repairs. The outside had lost its curb appeal though. And most importantly, the place hadn’t drawn in real guests for a while. With the ski resorts that had popped up in the neighboring town of Wild Blossom Bluffs, Sweetwater Springs wasn’t as appealing to tourists. There was nothing here to grab their attention.
“About being here, of course.” She set the plate down on the granite countertop—one of the few updates to the bed and breakfast in recent years—and gestured toward a stool. “Sit and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
“What’s so special about here?” Mitch asked, watching as she poured him a cup.
She shrugged a shoulder, sliding his mug in front of him. “It’s gorgeous, for one. I remember thinking Sweetwater Springs was a magical place as a kid.”
“Mable thought so too.” Mitch chuckled as he pulled the black coffee to his mouth. Bitter and smooth, just like he liked it. “And when I was a kid, I believed her.”
“Not anymore?” She sat on the stool across from him.
He met her eyes and hesitated. “Nah. Same as Santa Claus. The beard has been snatched, so to speak.”
She frowned. When she did, he noticed the plumpness of her pink lips. He pulled his gaze away and stared down into the black abyss of his coffee instead. He wasn’t here for attraction. He was here to put an end to whatever well-intended but naive thoughts the Russos’ granddaughter had running through her mind. They could struggle for two months and then admit defeat—because this place was hopeless—or they could walk away now.
And he was voting for the latter.
CHAPTER THREE
Kaitlyn’s heart had been racing ever since her conversation with Josie last night. If Loving Life magazine promoted the town and her B&B, then surely people would come. Maybe a lot of people. She’d almost argued with Josie when she’d made the suggestion. She couldn’t let Josie put her and the magazine’s reputation on the line.
But if I can pull this off…
Kaitlyn looked at Mitch, who was sampling one of her cookies. She hadn’t been thrilled about him being here last night but if she was going to do this, she was glad there was somebody here to help her. Josie said the magazine would be going into distribution sometime in the next two weeks. After that, the Sweetwater B&B needed to be ready for business. The thought of hosting happy couples was terrifying. And electrifying.
The town itself was already living up to the claim. It was cozy and had so much to offer. There was a charming downtown area with quaint shops and good restaurants, and she couldn’t wait to try them. The town was enclosed in a mountain valley, and there was a park with hiking trails that passed natural hot springs and led to some of the best lookouts in the area. The stage was already set. Sweetwater Springs just needed a hook to draw people in, and this was it.
“So,” Kaitlyn said, leaning over the counter. Mitch met her gaze, and her mouth immediately went dry. She’d never noticed it in his childhood photographs but his eyes were brown and green with a hint of blue too. They were like the stained-glass windows of the Trinity Church in New York. She’d made a point of walking by it ev
ery day, even though she knew a shortcut that would get her to the subway faster. Part of her had wanted to live in those stained-glass windows. And now Mitch’s eyes held the same appeal.
She swallowed and dropped her gaze for just a second. “So,” she said again, clearing her throat. If he was going to be her business partner, and she fully intended to convince him to be, she needed neutral feelings toward him. “I have a plan to make this work.”
Mitch chewed on a bite of cookie as he watched her. “You mean you haven’t come to your senses yet?”
A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Meaning do I want to walk away? No. And you’re not walking away either. If my plan works, we can have this place booked solid with a waiting list running into the new year.”
He chuckled softly. Was he laughing at her?
“I’m serious. My best friend, Josie, is the executive editor for the lifestyle section in Loving Life magazine.” If he recognized the name of the periodical, it didn’t show. “It’s one of the biggest, most widely read magazines in the country. Josie is about to run a feature on the most romantic holiday getaways in the country. Some couples like to have a little private time before they’re bombarded with family events.”
He nodded. “Okay. What does this have to do with anything?”
Kaitlyn ignored the irritation in his voice. “Well, I was talking to her last night and she offered to put Sweetwater Springs on the list. Not just on the list, she offered to put it at the top of the list.” A swell of excitement ballooned in her chest. The idea was genius. It would work. She knew it would.
Mitch’s face held no expression. “Has she been here before?”
“No, but she hasn’t gone to all the other places on the list either. That’s what Google is for. You can research pretty much everything about a place, to the point you almost feel like you’ve been there. Even this old B and B is online.”
“Yeah, but the website showcases how it was ten years ago.” He glanced around the kitchen to make his point.
Yes, the cabinets were old, and the color of the walls was tired but she could fix that. And although her parents had never been big on celebrating the holidays, decorating was her specialty. She held out her hands and realized they were shaking. Mitch’s laser-sharp eyes noticed too. So what? This meant a lot to her. She didn’t care if he knew she was nervous. “If this B and B is promoted in Loving Life, it’ll bring customers. Customers bring in money. Then the bank will approve me for a loan to buy you out at the end of the two months.”
He narrowed his stained-glass eyes. She needed him to buy into the plan. There was no backing out once they got started. Turning the B&B on its head and transforming it into a romantic holiday haven wouldn’t be easy. But it was doable.
“It’s a lie,” he finally said.
“It’s not a lie. Sweetwater Springs is romantic. I’ve always thought so. And there aren’t that many repairs to be done here. Not really. I’m sure my grandmother has a tree and other festive décor. I’ll find it.”
His mouth was set in a grim line.
It was hard to take him seriously with a cookie crumb lodged in the corner of his mouth though. She focused on that as she pressed on. “Look, my grandparents must’ve meant something to you if Grandma Mable put you in the will.”
“Mable and Henry meant a lot to me. But running a bed and breakfast isn’t my dream. I’m not cut out for greeting strangers and making them feel welcome. And I’m certainly not jolly old Saint Nick.”
Obviously. “Great. Then you’ll get a payday and leave at the end of the agreement, which if we signed today, would fall on Christmas Eve.” She pointed to a calendar she’d conveniently laid on the counter. “See, that makes eight full weeks, which according to the fine print of the contract, defines two months. Then it’s a merry Christmas for both of us.” She watched him run a hand through his overgrown dark locks as he seemed to consider what she was telling him. Her fingers suddenly itched to run through his hair too. She’d never been attracted to a man with a beard before. Not until now.
His jaw ticked on one side as he studied her. Then he lifted a finger and wiped his mouth, removing the crumb. “If I agree, I don’t want to be front and center. I’ll handle repairs, anything you need while I’m here, but this place is yours. You can buy me out at the end of the agreement. Even though I don’t think you’ll be anywhere near ready to do that by Christmas Eve.”
“We’ll see.” She reached for a list she’d been working on last night. “I started writing down the things that need to be done. These are the jobs I think are better suited for you.”
Most of the items she’d written down were small. The chimney needed to be swept. Lightbulbs and air filters needed to be changed. A fuse had blown for one of the rooms upstairs and there was no electricity running to it. One of the biggest repairs she’d listed was that there was no hot water in the house. She’d discovered that this morning after enduring an ice-cold shower, which she still hadn’t managed to warm up from.
Mitch took a long moment scrutinizing the to-do list. “Fine. I’ll get started on this today,” he finally said.
“Does that mean you’ll stay?”
He hesitated, and it almost looked painful for him to nod even though physically she suspected he was in tip-top condition. “I’ll call Mr. Garrison and tell him it’s a go.”
She squealed in excitement and, unable to help herself, ran around the kitchen island and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
After her brain caught up with her body, she realized her chest was pressed up against the hard mass of his muscled body. And oh, heavens. He smelled divine, like pine trees and honey and alpha man. Her body buzzed with awareness.
Squelching it, she pulled away.
Mitch was staring at her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his kaleidoscope eyes had gotten darker.
She swallowed, wondering if he could also hear the boom of her heart in her chest. Just from that brief physical touch—which she would be sure to avoid from now on.
Taking the list, he stood.
“Sorry. I just got excited.” She offered her hand for him to shake. “Partners?”
He slipped his warm, calloused hand in hers. More physical touch. Crap. “For the two months. Then I’m leaving,” he clarified.
“Understood.”
* * *
Three hours later, Kaitlyn collapsed on the sofa in the main room. She’d cleaned until she was breathless and sore, and she’d barely made a dent in the long list of to-dos she’d assigned herself. Pressing her head back into the couch cushion, she closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps she could hire someone else to help her. Except she didn’t have money for that.
Maybe she could ask her parents for help. But they hadn’t even approved of her coming here in the first place. Running a B&B was career suicide, her mother had told her on the phone as she’d packed. And then again on the drive down Interstate 95.
Kaitlyn had gone to the New York School of Interior Design. She’d worked her butt off for the last couple of years building a solid reputation in her field. Little did her mom know that Kaitlyn’s career was already dead in the water though, thanks to Hollywood’s favorite action hero, Bradley Foster.
Kaitlyn scanned the long list of things that still needed to be done before the article released in two weeks, resisting the sudden fear climbing through her like unwanted vines. This was just the cleaning. To make good on Josie’s promise, the inn needed to be merry and romantic too. That was the fun part. Maybe she could browse Pinterest for ideas.
As she considered her options, her cell phone rang on the coffee table.
Kaitlyn gave a quick glance at the caller ID and answered on the second ring. “Hey, lady.”
“All right, the December magazine has gone to press. Your neck and mine are on the line so I hope you’re prepared to make this happen.”
Kaitlyn’s mouth dropped open. “We just talked last night. It’s not eve
n been twenty-four hours.”
“Maybe in your world, but in mine, time moves fast. No rest for the weary, blah, blah, blah. Please tell me your partner is in.”
Kaitlyn warmed just at Mitch’s mention. It was an unconscious, physical reaction. What is wrong with me? “He said yes.”
“Perfect!”
“Yes, it is.” Kaitlyn stood and walked to the mantel above the fireplace where several framed pictures were displayed. Her gaze paused on a photo of her grandparents standing in front of the B&B, the pride on their faces clear. A grand-opening sign hung behind them. Kaitlyn had always favored her father, who’d obviously gotten his looks from Mable. All three had the same dark hair and large, brown eyes. The same straight nose.
Kaitlyn regretted that she hadn’t spent enough time with her grandparents to really know who they were. Not that she’d had any say in the matter as a child. Her parents preferred to spend their vacation time at fancy resorts and on cruises. Once Kaitlyn was in college, she’d always stayed in the city and spent her Christmases with friends who didn’t have anywhere to go, or she’d gone home with Josie. Because Kaitlyn had spent so little time here, coming to see her grandparents for the holidays just didn’t feel natural. Even so, she wished she’d come anyway.
Josie cleared her throat on the other end of the line. “Listen to this. The Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast in Sweetwater Springs just might be the most romantic holiday retreat in America. How could an inn with an address on Mistletoe Lane be anything less? Each of the large, airy rooms, named after a few of America’s favorite romantic couples, features a breathtaking view of the North Carolina mountains. Stay in, snuggle, and read by the fire. Or take a walk under a blanket of twinkling stars. Make a wish on one and watch it come true as you live out your most romantic fantasies this Christmas season.”
The breath caught in Kaitlyn’s chest. “Is that what you wrote?”
“Something like that. I pulled a late night on your behalf. I described the town and then I pitched the bed and breakfast hard. I was praying the website was up to date.”
