by Annie Rains
She lifted her hands and started to unbutton her top. It wasn’t fury funneling in her belly anymore. No, it was desire, and it threatened—promised—to sweep them both up in its cyclone. “Better turn that lock,” she said, as her fingers popped the third button down.
He did as she asked and then flipped off the lights. The night-light came on automatically, filling the room with just enough light so they could find each other. Even without the light’s help, she’d have tracked down the woodsy, highly sensual scent of him. In just a few short weeks, her body knew this man. Craved him.
His arms locked around her, and then they made love like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he held her, it felt like a promise that everything was going to be all right, and she believed it. She believed what she saw when his eyes bore into hers, even though she wasn’t quite sure what they said. Something wonderful though.
At some point in the night, she fell asleep in Mitch’s embrace. Her eyes flickered open to read the clock on the nightstand. One a.m. The inn was quiet, and Mitch’s breathing was steady on her shoulder as he hugged the back of her.
Smiling softly, she returned to sleep.
When her eyes fluttered open again at five a.m., the weight of his arm was gone. She turned to find his side of the bed empty except for a note on the pillow. She rolled forward and grabbed it.
You’re beautiful when you sleep. See you tonight.
Mitch
It wasn’t the warmest or the fuzziest, but even so, her insides buzzed happily. She could get used to this, she thought again, shuffling across the room toward the bathroom.
Except no, she couldn’t.
* * *
There was a piano sitting on Mitch’s chest.
At least that’s what it had felt like since he’d walked into the Everson Printing Company and asked to speak to Brian more than thirty minutes ago. Brian wasn’t there yet because Mitch had arrived as soon as the store had opened this morning. The young employee behind the counter said he expected Mr. Everson to arrive anytime.
Mitch’s gaze flicked to the door that led to the back room. He’d hid like a coward when Brian had come into Dawanda’s Fudge Shop on his night downtown with Kaitlyn. He was ashamed of that behavior. For one, he was a marine, a cop, and he wasn’t supposed to duck or hide from anything. He was supposed to face his challenges head-on. That’s exactly what he planned to do today. And whether Brian accepted his apology or not, this was a step in the right direction.
Brian had always been a nice guy in high school. Mitch had looked up to him and his three brothers. Everyone had, it seemed. Brian Everson was the star athlete of the Everson clan. By all predictions, he was going to bring a gold medal home for long-distance running in the Olympics the following year after he graduated. But no one had predicted the accident on that icy mountain road.
Mitch pulled out his phone and texted Alex.
I’m coming in late today. I have an errand.
Alex’s response was quick.
I told you to take the day off. People are going to think I’m taking advantage of my newest officer if you don’t.
Mitch frowned. What was he supposed to do with a day off? And he was a new officer at SSPD but also temporary. Alex should work him while he could.
Before Mitch could argue, the door to the back room finally opened, and a female clerk came out. She spoke briefly to the younger male clerk whom Mitch had talked to earlier. Then their gazes flitted over, and Mitch knew they were talking about him. The male clerk nodded and headed in his direction.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, looking apologetic and not meeting Mitch’s eyes directly. “Mr. Everson is really busy this morning and is unable to meet with you.”
That piano on Mitch’s chest turned into a baby grand. “Did you tell him who I was? That Mitch Hargrove wants to speak to him?”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said.
“I see.” With a sigh, Mitch stood. “I’d like to leave my phone number and where I’m staying, in case he wants to get in touch later.” Mitch knew Brian wasn’t too busy to talk to him right now. There weren’t even any customers yet. Part of Mitch wanted to go behind that counter, open the door to the back room, and find Brian anyway. Brian needed to hear his apology. And Mitch had things he needed to get off his chest, like this baby grand piano, for one.
Mitch left his contact information with the clerk and walked out into the parking lot. Now what? Alex had insisted he take today off, and Mitch suspected if he ignored that order and showed up anyway, Alex might just shove him in one of those jail cells in the back.
Sliding behind the steering wheel, Mitch stared out at the open road. The mountains could be seen clearly today, almost purple in the bending sunlight. The first thing that came to mind for how to spend the day was being with Kaitlyn. But he needed to collect his thoughts when it came to her. He’d known there was a possibility that Brian wouldn’t forgive him but he hadn’t considered that Brian might not even talk to him.
He could go to the juvenile detention center to visit Kyle Martin. The court was trying to figure out what to do next in that situation but Cassie was pleading to have her son home for the holidays.
Kyle probably needed some time with his jumbled thoughts too. Not some older know-it-all who thought he had any good advice to give. Obviously, looking at the way Mitch had twisted up his own life, he didn’t.
So instead, Mitch drove his truck to Evergreen Park. He was dressed in a T-shirt and loose-fit jeans along with a pair of sneakers. Just right to go for a short hike up the foothills to see the springs. Hopefully Brian would contact him later, once he’d had time to think. Something told Mitch that wasn’t going to happen though.
It’d been wishful thinking that had brought him to the Everson’s Printing Company this morning. Now it was back to reality.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Breakfast was served. The kitchen was cleaned. The guests were all off doing various things and seemingly happy.
The bell above the B&B door sang out, and in walked Paris in his usual black jeans. Instead of a black shirt, today he wore a festive red-and-black checked, button-down flannel. The transformation from biker to mountain man had begun.
“Hey,” he said.
Kaitlyn smiled. “Hey. How’s it going at Ms. Hamilton’s?”
Paris frowned as he placed his laptop on the coffee table in the living room. “Let’s just say I miss you and this inn. And I mean that in a completely platonic kind of way. I don’t want to get on Mitch’s wrong side again.”
Kaitlyn laughed as she scooted over for him to take a seat beside her. “You were never on his wrong side.”
Paris grunted and sat down. “He didn’t like me when I first got here. I get it. He saw me as a threat on his territory.”
“I doubt that. If Mitch had it his way, this inn never would’ve been his territory.”
“I wasn’t talking about the B and B.” Paris gave her a sidelong wink and then pulled the laptop to him. “So, I think I have a handle on what you want. I put this together late last night. If you don’t like it, be honest.”
“I will.” She nodded, bubbling with anticipation. She’d hired Paris to help with some promotional materials for the bed and breakfast early last week. She would have reached out to him regardless, but after looking at his website, she’d fallen in love with his work. Who knew her first guest had been such a graphics whiz?
He tapped a few keys and pulled up a design he’d prepared for the B&B with the name written in a fancy yellow script. Purple-toned mountains rose behind the words. It was simple, tasteful, and she didn’t want to blink.
“It’s perfect.” She stared at the image until it blurred. Even then, it was gorgeous. “I mean it,” she said, finally looking over. “I love everything about it.”
He smiled gratefully. “I can tweak it if there’s something you want to play up or down.”
“Paris, this is even better than I had envisioned. It’ll look am
azing on the front of a brochure. You are very talented. Thank you so much.” She leaned in and gave him a huge hug.
“It was nothing. Really. And I’m serious,” he teased, pulling away. “I don’t want to be on the other side of Mitch’s fist if he walks in on us.”
Kaitlyn swatted Paris’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly. How much do I owe you?” Whatever it was, it was worth every penny.
Paris shook his head. “Merry Christmas, Kaitlyn. I may have been your first guest here, but you were my first friend.”
Her mouth dropped open, and emotion gripped her, strong and fierce. “I can’t accept something so nice.”
“You can, and you will. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to turn down a gift?”
Kaitlyn drew a hand to her chest, so touched by his gesture. “Well, I got you something as well. Nothing nearly as generous as your graphic design, but I did want to give you a gift.” She hurried over to the Christmas tree in the corner, where Paris’s present was wrapped in shiny silver paper with a large red bow. “Merry Christmas, Paris,” she said, handing it over.
He took his time opening it, and it occurred to her that maybe Paris didn’t receive too many presents. He’d grown up in the foster care system. He didn’t have family, and he was new in town. This might be the only present he got this year.
“It’s not much,” she explained, once Dawanda’s fudge was revealed.
“Are you kidding? Dawanda’s fudge is the stuff that wish lists are made of.” He grinned and stood. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And Paris, if you don’t have any plans, please feel free to come over here for Christmas breakfast. I haven’t decided on the final menu yet but it’ll be festive and you’re always welcome here.”
“Sounds good. I’ll even wear my Santa hat,” he promised as he started to pack up his computer. “I’ll send you the final graphic tonight.”
“Great.”
Kaitlyn walked him to the door and then turned as the phone began to ring.
“Uh-oh,” Paris said. “Looks like more guests are calling to book their stay.”
“I hope so. We’re full over Christmas already. But there’s always room for one more for breakfast. Don’t forget,” she told him.
“I won’t.”
Kaitlyn closed the front door behind him and then ran to catch the phone. “Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast. Can I help you?”
“Yes. Is this Kaitlyn Russo? Mable Russo’s granddaughter?” a woman asked on the other end.
“Yes, it is.”
“Hi there. This is Summer Rivera. We met at your grandmother’s funeral a few months ago. Do you remember? I heard you took over the B and B. How is it going?” she asked in one long string of words.
“Fine, thank you.” Kaitlyn struggled to recall meeting anyone by the name of Summer Rivera. There’d been so many people at Mable’s funeral though. It’d been a whirlwind day, and she’d shaken a hundred different hands. Then she’d immediately flown back to New York, never dreaming that she’d be dropping everything and moving here only a month later.
“Well, I was calling to officially welcome you to town and to see if you would be carrying on your grandmother’s generous tradition of donating cakes to the Hope for the Holidays Auction.”
Kaitlyn twirled her finger in the cord of the phone. “Oh. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”
“The Hope for the Holidays Auction is something the town puts on every year. We choose a family in need and auction off all kinds of things, including your grandmother’s homemade cakes. They were always very popular at the auctions.”
“Oh.” Kaitlyn leaned back against the wall. “Well, I can guarantee I’m nowhere near as good a baker as my grandmother, but I’ll certainly agree to making a couple cakes for the cause.”
“Terrific!” Summer cheered. “This year we’re supporting a single mother with cancer. Mable usually made at least ten.”
“Ten?” Kaitlyn repeated, wondering if she’d heard correctly.
“At least, but often more than that because they brought in so much money for charity. And her gingerbread cheesecake was the most popular. If you could make a few of those, that would be spectacular.”
Gingerbread cheesecake? “Well, I’m…well…” Protests stuck in Kaitlyn’s throat. How could she possibly refuse to donate to a charity her grandmother had supported? “Okay,” she finally said. “I’m sure I can make that happen.”
“Oh splendid. You are a dear, just like Mable always said. The auction is next Wednesday. I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
The movies Mitch liked the best were the ones with a ticking time clock. Time ticked down and the hero, Daniel Craig, Jason Statham, or any one of those action stars—to exclude Bradley Foster, whom he’d never liked—had to race to some sort of finish line to save the world.
Mitch had his own ticking time clock, and it was nowhere near as exciting. It’d been over twenty-four hours, and Brian hadn’t called him. He didn’t want Mitch here, and Mitch respected that. Mitch couldn’t deny that he had feelings for Kaitlyn though. Deeper feelings than he’d ever had for any woman before. Was he just supposed to walk away?
He pulled into the parking lot of the Sweetwater PD and waved at Tammy as he walked inside.
“Hold on. Alex wants to speak to you,” she said.
“What about?”
“Dunno. It’s never good when the boss summons you though.”
Mitch slapped a hand on her desk playfully. “Unless the boss also happens to be your best friend.” He headed down the hall to Alex’s office and offered a courtesy rap on the door before pushing it open. “You summoned?” he said dryly.
“Yeah. Hey, Mitch.” Alex leaned back in his chair. As usual, he was dressed in a nice button-down shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Chiefs didn’t have to wear the uniform if they didn’t want to. Mitch was jealous of that. After all his years in the marine corps, he didn’t much like uniforms. Even so, he supposed he’d be wearing one at his security job next month too.
“I’m still here for another week.” Mitch plopped in the chair in front of Alex’s desk. “If you tell me you don’t need me anymore just because the Sweetwater Springs thief has been caught, you and I are going to have words.”
Alex stared at him. “I’m not letting you go. In fact, I’m trying to keep you. Jackson Curtis resigned this morning.”
“What? Why would he do a thing like that?”
Alex shrugged. “Well, between you and me, Jackson is going to ask his girlfriend to marry him. And she doesn’t like the idea of marrying a man in this line of work.”
Mitch laughed out loud. “Really? It would be different if we were in a big city but this is Sweetwater. Our most sought-after criminal is a seventeen-year-old boy trying to save his mom from cancer. I’d hardly call this a dangerous job.” At least not compared to what he’d been up against as an MPO.
Alex leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been shot at,” he said. “I’ve had a knife pulled on me. I mean, yeah, it was a ninety-year-old woman wielding the knife but she could’ve done some serious damage.” Alex cracked a grin. “This life isn’t for everyone. I always knew I wanted to grow up and be in law enforcement just like my dad.”
Mitch nodded, remembering well how Alex had wanted nothing more than to play a good game of cops and robbers growing up. Mitch had played right alongside him. Mable had always joked that they’d been cut from the same cloth.
“And I always knew for me that would mean not getting involved with someone.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, man,” Mitch argued, sitting across from Alex.
“I watched how my dad’s long hours here at the station affected my mom. I promised myself, when I decided this was the career I wanted, I would leave relationships to everyone else. That’s just me. Most of the other employees here are happily married, and I’m happy for them.”
Mitch shook his head. “I give up. Why are you telling me all this?
”
“Because I want to offer you a job. Probably not as exciting as the security contract you have lined up in Virginia, but I know you and Kaitlyn have something good going. Thought you might consider staying awhile longer. We could use a guy like you. Especially now.”
Mitch didn’t say anything for a long moment.
The thought had already been niggling around in the back of his mind. He’d tried to ignore it because of the promise he’d made to the Eversons.
“Just say you’ll consider it,” Alex pressed.
Mitch gave a small nod. “I’ll consider it.”
“Great. That’s halfway to a yes.”
“Or halfway to a no, depending on how you look at it.”
Alex pointed a finger. “I’m an optimist when it suits me. Now, get to work, Officer Hargrove. Sweetwater needs you. And if you see a ninety-year-old woman with a knife, heed my warning and take her seriously.”
Mitch chuckled as he stood up. “Will do, Chief.”
* * *
“Don’t worry about the cakes,” Gina told Kaitlyn a couple days later as they sat across the table from each other. “I’ll come over on Wednesday morning and help you. I have Mable’s gingerbread cheesecake recipe too.”
Kaitlyn slid a cup of peppermint tea in front of Mitch’s mother, who’d stopped by after cleaning one of the neighbor’s homes. “Really? I won’t turn down the help, if you’re offering.”
Gina chuckled. “I know your grandmother has big shoes to fill but Mable didn’t do all of these things on her own, you know. She had help. Mine and Mitch’s. Townspeople stopped in to give her a hand too after Henry died.”
Kaitlyn grabbed a cookie off a plate that she’d set out for the guests. “Thank you. For everything. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you and Mitch these last couple of months.”
“Well, I’m sticking around so don’t worry about that.”
Mitch, on the other hand, wasn’t sticking around, and they both seemed to know it. Even if Kaitlyn was still a tad bit in denial over that fact.
