He shoved the thought from his mind with the determination of a Navy SEAL. He’d have to let his mind go there eventually, but not until he found the spot. Then he would make the memory his playground. He was, after all, trained to do the very thing others ran from.
For now he could find better things to think about.
An image of the pretty innkeeper danced into his mind, loosening his muscles, turning up his mouth. He’d been intrigued from the moment he’d seen her striding down the hall. By way of keeping his mind occupied, he tallied up everything he knew about Grace Bennett so far.
She was young—twenty-one or twenty-two. She wore her heavy mane of honey-blonde hair in a ponytail, a few wisps framing her perfect oval face. A thick fringe of lashes bordered her eyes, which at first glance appeared clear blue. But a closer inspection turned up flecks of silver and an interesting ring of amber around the pupil. One eyebrow arched slightly higher than the other, giving her a sardonic look. But he had yet to see if her personality bore that out.
Her nose was straight and unassuming. Her lips full and pouty. There was the tiniest scar on her chin, left of center.
When she was nervous she covered by standing tall and lifting her chin, but if that didn’t give her away, she had another tell—she rubbed her lips together as if she’d just applied lip gloss.
She was a blusher. That had been a surprise. In the dining room she’d tried to hide her face, but the tips of her ears had given her away. She was probably as embarrassed at having been caught discussing a guest as she was about the content of her dialogue.
He’d heard some interesting things and admittedly took perverse pleasure in making eye contact with her as she tried to sneak away.
Wyatt’s phone buzzed with a call as he headed up a steep incline. He was surprised he even had a signal. He dug the phone from his pocket and saw his dad’s picture on the screen.
He paused only a second. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Not much. I was getting ready to head into a meeting and thought I’d check in with you real quick. How’s the shoulder doing?”
“Fine. Told you it was nothing.”
“Well, the papers sure made it sound like something.”
“Yeah, well, sensationalism sells.”
“What are you doing? You sound a little winded.”
“Working out.” He hadn’t told his dad about the leave, and he sure wasn’t telling him where he was. Paul Jennings had finally moved on with his life, had even remarried a nice, if slightly vapid, woman named Valerie who supported his political career.
They caught up on the extended family, and Wyatt did his best to give an update on his own life without lying. They made tentative plans to meet for the holidays—probably at Valerie’s request—which seemed like eons away.
When Wyatt got off the phone, he felt a prick of guilt for hiding his whereabouts. But he didn’t want to worry his dad. As he did with everything else, Wyatt would handle his demons on his own.
* * *
Grace headed out to the shed to get the tandem bike she’d just rented to a couple. The tandem had been a popular addition to her rental equipment, and tonight’s weather was perfect for a romantic bike ride.
She said hello to Robin, the photographer who was already taking pictures of the lake view from the inn’s backyard. Things were moving fast. And while the idea of having her own location was exciting, it was also a little scary . . . Molly and Adam moving to Italy, Levi heading to LA to be with Mia. Grace would be left behind in Bluebell all alone. Even her best friend, Sarah, was away at college, and Grace wasn’t sure she’d come back here when she graduated.
She gave her head a hard shake. No reason to feel sorry for herself. She had far more than she deserved.
She unlocked the shed, pulled out the bike, and gave it a thorough cleaning. One nice thing about new digs would be having a decent place to store and display her rental equipment.
When she reached the sidewalk, the honeymooners were waiting for her there. “Did you decide where you’re going?”
“I think we’ll just play it by ear.” The man straddled the front seat, holding the bike steady for his bride.
“We’re working on our spontaneity,” the pretty woman said.
“Yes, we’re planning to be spontaneous.”
“It’s a thing.” The woman shrugged, an adoring gaze focused on her husband.
“Have fun, you two. If you have any problem, my number’s on the card.” Grace watched them ride away, a little wobbly at first. The woman squealed, and the man teasingly chided her for not doing her part.
Grace couldn’t help but smile at their backs. They didn’t look much older than she was, and they’d already found their special someone. She was surrounded by happy couples.
But that was all right. Her brother and sister deserved to be happy. They’d given up a lot for Grace. They never once held it over her head, but she saw their sacrifices. Even now Levi was still here, taking care of things, when he should be in California.
It was a lot to live up to. What if her business failed? Levi had told her she should go to college, and she pushed back. But what if he was right? Fifty percent of businesses failed in their first five years—why should hers survive while others’ flopped?
Enough with the negativity. She’d have a nice influx of capital once the inn sold. And hers was the only such business in the area. The off-season would be the challenge—as it had been for the inn. But if she gave it her all, surely that would be enough.
As she turned toward the shed, a whirl of red caught her eye. The approaching minivan—a ’96 Chevy Lumina—anchored her feet to the ground. The model was unique. Even fourteen years ago you didn’t see many of them around.
Grace’s mouth dried. Her heart fought to explode from her chest.
It was coming from the direction of town, going slow. Too slow.
It couldn’t be him. He was still in jail and would rot there. The sun, low in the sky, reflected off the windshield, obscuring the driver. Blinding her.
The adrenaline flooding her system screamed fight or flight, but she couldn’t seem to do either. She could only watch in horror as the vehicle pulled to the curb directly in front of her.
Chapter Five
Lone Creek Falls was a dead end. The pines weren’t thick enough, the terrain was too hilly, and the falls were higher and broader than the one he remembered. Wyatt had reached the trail’s end and turned right back around.
Once in his car he followed the curve of the shoreline, heading back toward town, back to the inn. The sun was low in the sky, and it was too late to set off on another trail. He’d study the maps of the area and do more research online. He’d narrow it down more. There were only two popular waterfalls, but he was starting to think the one he remembered probably wasn’t one of them. Not big enough to be a tourist attraction.
Tomorrow he’d go to the library and see if he could find the old articles. See if they mentioned exactly where it had happened. He should’ve started there.
When he reached the inn he pulled into a slot out front. He grabbed his backpack and exited the vehicle. When he stepped onto the curb he caught sight of Grace to the right of the inn.
She was standing just off the sidewalk, staring straight ahead. All the color had fled her face, leaving her shockingly white. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders hunched as if her head was trying to disappear into them.
He moved to her side, recognizing the glimmer of fear in her eyes. “Grace?”
She didn’t reply. Didn’t even blink.
He followed her line of vision to a faded red minivan a dozen feet away. He stepped between her and the vehicle. Made himself big, his hand automatically on his Glock. His eyes locked on the driver’s door.
It opened slowly, creaking with age. An orthopedic shoe appeared beneath the door. A moment later the slight frame of an elderly woman emerged from the van. She closed the door and slid open the door behind it. A little girl leapt
out of the van. She took the woman’s hand, and the two of them headed down the sidewalk, going toward town.
Letting his hand fall, he turned back to Grace.
She was still staring at the van, her breaths fast and shallow. Shock?
He set a hand on her shoulder, dipping down to make eye contact. “Grace?”
Her eyes darted to his, still wide.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do as I say.” He led her to the curb and she sank onto it.
He dropped down beside her, took her wrist, noting her cold hand, and found her pulse. He counted for ten seconds. Her other hand was pressed to her stomach. She was breathing through her mouth. Rapid pulse.
Her eyes locked on his, panic mounting there. “Don’t feel so good.”
“Purse your lips like this. Breathe slowly through your mouth.”
She did as he said.
“In . . . two . . . three. Out . . . two . . . three. Just like that. Keep going. You’re doing great.” He breathed with her. When her eyes drifted away, he pulled her back to him.
Slowly the color returned to her face. The panic faded from her eyes.
“Better?” he asked a few minutes later.
She sat up straight, folded her arms over her stomach. “Yes. Thank you. I don’t know what that was, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“You were hyperventilating. Happen before?”
“No.” She rubbed her lips together.
He believed her, but something had likely brought this on. Some medical conditions caused hyperventilation, but this seemed situational, brought on by shock or panic.
“Did you know that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The one in the van. You were staring at her.”
She looked away from him. “Never seen her before. I’m fine now. Are you a doctor or something?”
“EMT.”
“That’s handy. I, uh, I think I’m good now.” She started to rise to her feet. “I should get back to—”
“Easy.” He took her elbow when she wobbled, standing with her. She was through the crisis, embarrassed now and seeking escape.
She disengaged from him and lifted her chin, professional smile in place. “I’m fine now. Thank you again. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem,” he said, but she was already walking away.
Chapter Six
Wyatt woke with a sudden jerk. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and the suffocating heat had him shoving the covers away. The gray veil of daylight filtered through the gap in the curtains. He’d almost made it through the night without a nightmare.
He ran a hand over his face, the dream lingering like a bad odor. As usual it had been all too realistic, but he was bound this time, hands and feet. If only he really had been. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so guilty.
He pushed out of bed. He had a lot to do today. In the shower he spent a few extra minutes appreciating the inn’s excellent water pressure. He thought of Grace’s episode last night. What had provoked it? He hoped she felt better today.
He dressed in hiking clothes, stocked his backpack with water, and headed downstairs. The steps creaked in a familiar way, and he ran his hand down the railing nostalgically. He used to be so happy to get here that he’d wake up early every morning for a week or two. Dash down the stairs to find his mom in the kitchen making pancakes or on the porch enjoying a cup of coffee with his dad.
But his family wasn’t at the forefront of his mind today. How would Grace respond to him after yesterday? Would she be überprofessional to compensate for her embarrassment, or would she avoid him altogether? Hard to manage when you worked the front desk.
Wyatt was headed to the town library first, but he’d purposely avoided looking up the address. As he took the last stair, however, he discovered the person behind the front desk was not Grace and deflated.
The twentysomething man looked up from a spreadsheet wearing a congenial expression. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He looked to be in his midtwenties and dressed professionally in a polo and khakis. He was tall and fit with dark hair and bright-blue eyes. Something about his smile reminded him of Grace’s.
“I’m Levi, one of the innkeepers.”
Ah, the brother. “Wyatt.”
“Checking out? Or is there something else I can help you with?”
Sounds of movement thumped from above. Wyatt looked at the ceiling as if, by sheer force of will, he might make Grace appear.
He stepped up to the desk. “I was planning to hit the library today. Is it within walking distance?”
“Only about ten minutes.” Levi pulled out a town map. “We’re here. You follow Bayview into town, make a right at Church Street. It’s two blocks down on your left. You can take this. GPS is spotty around here.”
He took the map. “Thanks.”
“Do you have time for breakfast?”
His stomach was already twisting at the savory aromas emanating from the kitchen. But before Wyatt could respond, footfalls sounded on the steps, more than one pair. Grace and another woman made the turn on the landing and continued down.
He didn’t miss the way Grace’s steps stuttered as their eyes connected.
She lifted her chin. “Hello.”
“Morning.”
“I’m Molly, Grace’s sister.” The brunette popped out from behind Grace. She bubbled from the inside out with energy and warmth.
“Wyatt. Nice to meet you.”
“We didn’t really get a chance to meet yesterday in the dining room.”
Grace cleared her throat, giving her sister a warning look.
“I hope you enjoyed your meal,” Molly said. “Nobody puts out a spread like Miss Della.”
He opened his mouth to reply.
“You should definitely have breakfast this morning,” Molly continued. “You don’t want to miss the blueberry streusel muffins. Or the homemade granola. Well, about anything Miss Della makes is wonderful and—”
“Heading out on another hike?” Grace’s professional demeanor was in place with a little color in her cheeks.
He much preferred the high color to the ashen look of last night. “Eventually. I’m heading downtown to the library first.”
“Grace can show you the way.” The words erupted from Molly’s mouth like a geyser. “She was on her way to check out a rental space for her business, in town. It’s right on the way, isn’t it, Grace?”
Grace nailed her sister with a look. “I wouldn’t want him to miss out on Miss Della’s breakfast.”
“Actually, I’m not hungry just yet.”
Grace blinked at him.
“Perfect!” Molly bounced on her toes. “There you go then.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence passed.
Grace mushed her lips.
The brother glanced between Wyatt and Grace.
“Great,” Grace said finally. “It’s not far. Are you ready then?”
Wyatt hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “Whenever you are.”
* * *
Grace headed down the porch, Wyatt on her heels. At least she thought he was. The man was as stealthy as a mountain lion. She’d planned to slip out of the house unnoticed, and she certainly hadn’t planned on escorting Wyatt into town.
He made her nervous. All she’d done so far was embarrass herself in front of him. He probably thought she was a loon. Maybe she was. Who had a panic attack at the sight of a feeble old lady?
But it hadn’t been the old lady. It had been the van. The one that had riddled her childhood with nightmares. The one that had caused her to miss so many days of second grade that she’d been held back.
Even after all these years some things still triggered her: the sound of tires squealing, the first scent of summer in the air, the crunch of gravel under her feet. And now the van.
She shook away the memory. She’d been through counseling as a child. Her doting parents and
concerned siblings were almost smothering. After months and months of remembering, she just wanted to forget. She finally told her family to stop. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up. They finally acquiesced. It had been years since there’d been a single reference to that early summer day.
But Grace had not forgotten.
Heaven knew she’d turned those memories over and over in her mind last night. But she wasn’t letting them intrude on her daytime too.
The morning was pleasant, at least: sunny, midseventies, slight breeze.
She hit the sidewalk and turned toward town. Wyatt came beside her, street side, and matched his pace to hers. Her heart gave a heavy thump at his sudden nearness.
“So, tell me about your outfitters business.”
Grace was relieved at the neutral topic. “I started it last year, running it out of the inn, basically. I have a decent web presence and have managed to accumulate some quality equipment. We’ll be selling the inn shortly, though, so I need to find a retail space for it.”
“Why are you selling the inn?”
“That was always the plan—get it established as a business, then sell it. My brother will be moving to California—his fiancée lives there—and Molly wants to move to Tuscany and eventually open an inn.”
“You’re the only one staying here then?”
She’d expected him to react to the Italy thing. Most people did. Grace shrugged. “It’s home.”
“Your parents live here?”
“They passed a while back.”
She felt his gaze on her for a long moment. “Sorry to hear that.”
“So, yes, it’ll be just me.” Even she heard the forlorn note in her voice. What would Bluebell be without her family? She guessed she’d soon find out.
“You’ll miss them, your siblings.”
“Of course. But I have friends, and this is a close-knit community. Sometimes too much so, if you know what I mean. What do you think of the area so far?”
Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance) Page 3
