Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance)

by Denise Hunter

  But she didn’t have “a while.” Not if she was going to snag that sweet little bungalow.

  “Don’t lose hope,” Molly said. “We already have an email from another prospective buyer.”

  That news lightened the blow. “Well, that’s something. When are they coming?”

  “I haven’t written them back yet. I was waiting to see how this couple panned out.”

  “Well, let’s try to get them in right away,” Grace said.

  “Yes, let’s. If they can come this weekend we could always get one of our part-time workers to assist.” Even if Levi encouraged them to be patient, he had his own reasons for wanting a quick sale. He’d put his life on hold for four years, and he was ready to get on with it. Ready to move to LA and start a life with his soon-to-be bride.

  Levi would head off to LA, and Molly and Adam would be leaving for Italy . . . The thought left Grace feeling more than a little lonely.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  He was running out of time. Wyatt stepped over a fallen tree, gave Grace a hand, then continued on the path alongside Pine Creek. The temperature was a balmy seventy-five today, and under the shade of the deciduous trees, it was downright pleasant. The air was filled with the loamy scent of earth. Birds tweeted from the leafy canopy overhead, and a squirrel nattered from the underbrush nearby.

  They were high in the mountains now, having been hiking for almost six hours. They only had another hour or so before they’d need to cut over and head back, but he was hopeful because the terrain appeared just as he’d remembered. The only thing missing was the waterfall and stack of boulders. He kept his eyes peeled for them and knew Grace was doing the same.

  There’d been a definite bounce in his step all day. He felt ridiculously buoyed to have Grace with him again. He didn’t mind being alone. But hiking without her these past couple days had felt lonely after having her company last week.

  Spending more time with her wasn’t smart or sensible. And he could tell himself all he wanted that he needed her assistance, but the truth was, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “How’s your shoulder holding up?”

  “It’s fine. The lighter pack helps.”

  “And how’ve you been sleeping lately?”

  He opened his mouth with a quick reply, then closed it before he answered honestly. “About the same.”

  They hiked in silence a minute, then Wyatt held a branch aside for her.

  “Molly has some tea she swears by,” Grace said. “She says it knocks her out like a light.”

  “Wouldn’t mind trying some.” Maybe it would help ward off the nightmares too. Because knowing what was coming once he closed his eyes served as an effective deterrent. He tossed and turned for hours each night, and the lack of sleep made him less focused and alert than usual. What a disaster that would’ve been on protective detail if he hadn’t been forced to take leave.

  He had to resolve this and soon. The clock was ticking. He had to pass that psych eval.

  Wyatt stopped when he came to a narrower creek that ran into Pine Creek, cutting off the trail. Water bubbled noisily over the rocks. “Which way?”

  “Pine Creek continues that way.” She pointed in the direction they’d been headed and eased her bag off her shoulders. “This is just a tributary, and it comes from the wrong direction, so we can rule it out.”

  “That’s something, I guess.” Wyatt dropped his pack and removed his boots and socks. There were lots of rocks, but the shallow stream was at least twenty feet wide, and the water was swift.

  Once they’d rolled up their pants and stuffed their boots into the bags, they padded toward the creek’s edge.

  Wyatt stepped into the frigid water, testing the bottom as Grace stepped in beside him. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

  They took their time, slowing down when they reached the stream’s center. Water hit his calves with surprising force, and he carefully picked his way across, using large rocks as stepping-stones when he could.

  “Want to break for a snack soon?” Grace asked.

  “Sure. I’m pretty hungry.”

  “Me too. That apple tart is calling my—” Grace squealed as she slipped.

  Wyatt grabbed her arm, preventing a complete dousing. “You okay?”

  She got her feet under her. “I think so. So much for staying dry.”

  He kept a firm grip on her arm as they navigated the rest of the stream. When she stepped out of the water, he saw the bloody trail leading down from her knee. “You’re bleeding. Sit down.”

  “It’s nothing.” But she sat on a rock on the shore’s edge. “Just a scratch.”

  Wyatt unzipped his pack. “I’ve got a Band-Aid.” He fished out the first-aid kit as Grace pulled out a baby wipe and cleaned off her shin.

  He loved how low maintenance she was. None of the women he’d dated in the past would be caught dead on a hiking trail, much less sitting here so calmly while blood ran down her leg.

  He opened the kit and fished out an alcohol wipe. Ripping it open, he sank down in front of her, getting his first look at the injury. She must’ve caught it on a jagged rock because it was torn open and raw looking. The water had washed it out, but it still needed to be disinfected.

  “That looks pretty nasty, but you shouldn’t need stitches.” He unfolded the wipe. “Nonetheless, this is going to hurt.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He gently pressed the wipe to the wound.

  A sharp intake of breath was her only sign of pain.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to make it fast.”

  * * *

  Grace gritted her teeth as he sterilized the scrape, her fingers tightening into a fist on her lap at the sharp sting. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  “Could’ve just as easily been me. At least you didn’t get too wet.” He finished the task as quickly as possible. Then he bowed over the wound, and Grace felt the cool, soothing breeze of his breath.

  A shiver passed through her as he blew on it again. Goose bumps danced across her skin. The gesture was so unexpected. So nurturing. So . . . intimate.

  She stilled, looking down at the top of his head, at the chips of leaves lost in his thick hair. At the masculine slash of his brows and the soft feather of his dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

  As if sensing a shift in mood, he straightened, coming face-to-face with her. He was close. His gaze sharpened on her eyes, his face changing slowly as the moment morphed into something that electrified the space between them.

  A heartbeat passed, or maybe it was longer. Maybe the sun stood still in the sky. She wasn’t sure, because everything else ceased to exist. Everything except his eyes, fixed on her, laden with desire.

  Kiss me.

  He rose onto his knees, coming closer, and now she was looking up at him. Then, as if he’d read her mind, he took her face in his hands and pulled her to him.

  His warm breath whispered against her lips, and Grace’s eyelids fluttered shut. And then she lost all coherent thought. She was just feeling now. Feeling his firm touch. His bold mouth. His solid frame.

  She felt the brush of his lips on hers, soft and confident and so, so good. She felt the warm squeeze of attraction deep inside and the wild beating of her heart.

  And the intense need for this kiss to go on forever—she felt that too. Because really, how would she bear it when it ended?

  Somebody whimpered. Maybe her. She roped her arms around his broad shoulders, plowed her fingers into the soft hair at his nape.

  He responded with a moan.

  She took everything he offered and gave back freely. Her stomach fluttered, her skin tingled. There wasn’t a square inch of her unaffected. How was this possible? This was not her first kiss. Had she been doing it wrong all along? Or just doing it with the wrong person?

  When the kiss ended she didn’t have a clue how much time had passed. She was out of breath and out of thoughts and out of words.

  What was . . .
? She’d never . . . This was . . .

  His face slowly came into focus as if she’d blacked out or something. Maybe she had. She was delighted, at least, to see that he looked as flustered as she felt. His heavy-lidded gaze, flushed cheeks, and ardent expression made her want to grab some seconds.

  But he was easing away, putting space between them. Only inches, but it felt like miles as cool air rushed between them. She instantly missed the feel of him against her.

  The look on his face shifted, making her remember the way he’d kept her at a distance when they’d met—had it really only been ten days ago? Anxiety squirmed into her heart like a worm into an apple. Did he regret the kiss? He’d just turned her entire world upside down with his mouth.

  “I didn’t intend to do that.”

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, Wyatt.”

  He stared at her for a long minute in that inscrutable way of his.

  She steeled herself for his rejection. Braced herself for the hurt that would follow.

  “Go out with me.”

  She blinked. Okay, she hadn’t seen that coming. “You aren’t seeing enough of me now?”

  He drew his knuckle down her cheek, leaving a wake of warmth. “No.”

  She could point out that he was only visiting Bluebell. That he had a life that was far away. That she was tied up here. But she couldn’t even think past the feel of his touch.

  “So, on this proposed date . . . Where would you take me?” As if that would factor in at all.

  His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not putt-putting.”

  She tilted her head at him.

  His gaze roamed over her face as if searching for something. “I think I’ll surprise you.”

  “You seem to be very good at that so far.”

  “Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “I have a dress fitting for my brother’s wedding at three, but I’m free after that.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “A week from Saturday. Levi’s fiancée flies into town tomorrow, and I should go ahead and warn you that it’s Mia Emerson.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Grace blinked at him. “Mia Emerson, the actress.”

  He shook his head.

  “Into the Deep? Twelve Hours? Lesser Days?”

  “I’m more of a reader, I guess.”

  “But the wedding’s top secret, because . . . paparazzi, so you have to keep it under your hat.”

  “Paparazzi, top secret, got it. You know, we’re getting way off subject here. So, tomorrow night . . . Six o’clock work for you?”

  “Tomorrow night, six o’clock.”

  “It’s a date then.” His lips lifted in a grin, then he eyed her wound. “Now we’d better get that knee patched up.”

  * * *

  Darkness pressed in, the moonlight glowing dimly through the curtains in Wyatt’s room. Somewhere on the lake a boat’s motor hummed as it passed by. What were they doing on the water past midnight?

  He turned on the mattress, the bed squeaking in a familiar way. Sleep wasn’t coming again tonight, but this time the blame fell on Grace.

  The hike had been unsuccessful in one sense but highly productive in another. He hadn’t been lying when he told her he hadn’t planned the kiss. Conversely, he’d had every intention of keeping their relationship platonic for all the reasons he’d focused on since his arrival.

  But sometimes a man just had to go with his gut. It didn’t make sense, Grace and him. But he’d never clicked with a woman the way he clicked with Grace.

  And that kiss had all but sealed his fate.

  He loved that she hadn’t tried to hide what she felt. She was so responsive, so genuine. Her ragged breath. That needy little gasp. The way her fingers tightened in his hair until his scalp stung. Like she was as surprised as he, as helpless as he, against the rising tide of want.

  How could he shut it down after that kiss? How could he give up something he hadn’t known he’d needed until the moment his lips were on hers? He wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind, but he was going to spend time with Grace. He was going to know what made her tick. And he was going to kiss her again.

  After bandaging her knee they’d returned to the business of hiking, and he hadn’t kissed her again. As quickly as that first one had taken off, he decided he’d better slow things down.

  Being with Grace soothed his soul. Thinking of Grace was like floating on water. Relaxing. Tranquil. Wyatt’s weight sank into the mattress, his eyes growing heavy as thoughts of Grace consumed him. And when he finally fell asleep, the nightmares didn’t come.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Grace and Molly hung back inside the inn while Levi went out to greet his fiancée. The sisters weren’t above a little eavesdropping through the front window, however. Mia’s flight had been delayed and, much to Levi’s chagrin, she was arriving only an hour before the girls’ dress fitting in Asheville. It had been three months since Levi and Mia had been together. She’d been on set in Vancouver filming her next movie.

  Grace watched Mia unfold from the rental and get swept into Levi’s arms. She wore her usual disguise, a baseball hat and sunglasses, but the hat soon fell off and Levi removed the sunglasses as he took the kiss deeper.

  “Go, Levi,” Molly said.

  “I think I’ve seen enough.” Grace went to straighten her outfitter brochures at the front desk.

  “I remember those days,” Molly said wistfully, still watching out the window.

  Grace snorted. “You mean yesterday?” Molly and Adam might’ve been married for over a year now, but they were always touching. It was kind of sickening.

  Molly dropped the curtain and gave Grace a sly grin. “You’re right. We’ve still got it. You’ll understand that kind of chemistry someday.”

  Grace straightened the other brochures in the rack, heat climbing her neck as she thought of Wyatt and that kiss they’d shared yesterday. Talk about chemistry. She’d reviewed that lip-lock about a hundred times and was still dumbfounded. The kisses in her past had not prepared her for Wyatt. Not even close.

  Molly sometimes read Grace snippets of her favorite romance novels, which Grace barely tolerated without rolling her eyes. She viewed the fictitious kisses as fanciful hype, drivel for hopeless romantics like her sister. But yesterday had turned that kind of thinking on end.

  Grace became aware that Molly was studying her, head tilted thoughtfully, a suspicious twinkle in her eyes.

  Grace shifted. “What?”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  “Nothing happened.” But Grace’s face was flooded with heat all the way to the tips of her ears.

  Molly narrowed her eyes. “Did Wyatt kiss you?”

  “What? No.”

  “Your voice went up two full octaves.”

  “I thought you didn’t approve of Wyatt.”

  “I didn’t say that. I was just suggesting you exercise caution. You’ve spent quite a bit of time with him, and if you trust him, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Now stop stalling and spill the details.”

  Grace shuffled more brochures. “He asked me out, that’s all. We’re going out tonight.”

  “You’re going out?”

  The door burst open, and Mia and Levi entered on a cloud of euphoria.

  Ah, love to the rescue. Grace gave Molly a smug grin.

  Molly’s look said, This subject is not yet closed.

  Levi let loose of Mia long enough for Molly to sweep her soon-to-be sister-in-law into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been too long. You have to tell us all about the filming.”

  “It was awesome. I can’t wait to catch up.”

  Grace was next. “Hey, Mia.”

  Mia touched Grace’s hair. “I love your hair. Are you doing something different with it?”

  “She took it down from its perpetual ponytail,” Molly said.

>   As they caught up, Grace’s eyes fixed on her brother. He seemed happy and relaxed for the first time in weeks. Grace was glad Mia was finally here. She was so good for Levi.

  Before they knew it, the time had come to leave for their dress fitting. Levi would’ve climbed right into the car, except someone had to stay and mind the inn.

  An hour later Grace squirmed into the snug halter-style dress, pulling it down past her hips and legs where it flared out like a billowy cloud. The bridesmaid gown was a pretty blush color, and the style suited her. But Grace rarely wore dresses. They made her feel like a little girl playing dress-up.

  Molly and Grace were serving as Mia’s bridesmaids, and Mia’s best friend from LA, Brooke, was her maid of honor. Mia probably could’ve had ten attendants, but smaller was better for keeping the shindig secret.

  “How’s it going in there?” Molly called from outside the dressing room. Mia had arranged for a private fitting, so they were alone in the shop today.

  “Fine. I’m just . . . adjusting things a bit.” Like her boobs, which seemed to have disappeared inside the material.

  “Let’s see.”

  Grace scanned her form in the floor-length mirror, turning sideways. She was blessed to be tall and thin, but would a curve or two have killed anyone?

  A knock rattled the louvered door. “Come on, Grace. I wanna see.”

  “Hold your horses.”

  A few minutes later she stepped quietly from the dressing room to see Molly on the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror. Mia was gazing approvingly at Molly’s gown—same color but a slightly different style than Grace’s.

  Mia was fully made up and wearing a pretty sundress, her long, wavy blonde hair down around her shoulders. She looked, well, like a movie star.

  Mia turned and her green eyes lit up at the sight of Grace. “Oh, Grace! You look amazing in that dress. Doesn’t she, Molly?”

  Her sister was already coming close to flitter around Grace. “It really does suit you.”

  “I think the chest needs to be taken in.”

  Molly fussed with Grace’s bodice, and Grace swatted her hands away.