Autumn Skies: 3 (A Bluebell Inn Romance)

by Denise Hunter

Overhead the stars shimmered like sequins in the autumn skies. She shot him a little smile as she pulled from the slip. “Stargazing it is.”

  A while later they drifted to a stop in the middle of the basin. Grace shut off the lights, and the night went dark around them. There was no room to spread out on the boat, which had only two bench seats, but at least it was comfortably padded.

  The temperatures had cooled, so Wyatt grabbed the light blanket he’d brought from the backseat and wrapped it around Grace.

  “Thanks. It is getting a little chilly. Fall is on its way.”

  They leaned back against the seats, their eyes having adjusted to the darkness. To the west, the sky was still deep blue, but overhead the black canvas showed off pinpricks of twinkling lights.

  The boat bobbed gently, the water kissing its sides with quiet ripples. The scent of a campfire drifted past on a breeze.

  Grace’s arm rested against Wyatt’s, and their thighs touched. He loved being close to her. He laced his fingers with hers, resting their hands on his leg. “I can teach you the constellations.”

  “I already know the constellations.” A grin tinged her voice.

  “Okay, smarty-pants.” He pointed to the sky. “What’s that one?”

  She leaned closer to follow the direction of his finger. “Give me a break. It’s Sagittarius. Everyone knows that.”

  “Okay, that was an easy one. How ’bout that one?”

  “The one with the tail? Draco.”

  He shifted his finger a tiny bit. “That one?”

  “Hercules. My turn to quiz you.” She pointed into the sky. “That one—the one that looks like a graduation cap.”

  “Aquila?”

  “Very good. And that one?”

  He put his arm around her, leaning in closer, not necessarily because he needed to. He drew in a whiff of her flowery shampoo. “Which one?”

  “Right there. The one shaped like a Christian fish symbol.”

  “That’s not a constellation.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s Pavo.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  She chuckled, glancing at him. “No, I’m not.”

  “Somebody did do well in school.”

  “I may have been a bit of a perfectionist.”

  “What kind of grades are we talking about here?”

  “Well, I wasn’t valedictorian or anything.”

  “What was your GPA? I know you know it.”

  “It was 3.78,” she admitted. “It was algebra that did me in.”

  “I liked algebra.”

  “You would.”

  He smiled to himself. “That’s quite an achievement, Grace. Are you that much of a bookworm, or did your parents push you?”

  “Not at all. And I’m not a bookworm. I just pushed myself and got very upset when I didn’t do my best.”

  He thought about that a minute. “Do you think that might be related to the survivor’s guilt you mentioned earlier?”

  Her gaze burned into the side of his face. “That’s very perceptive. And yes, I do. But I’ve been working on it, trying to manage my expectations.”

  His heart went out to her. He wished he could see more than just the gleam of her eyes in the dark. “You don’t have to do anything to prove your value. You’re worthy just as you are—just as God made you. I know you know that already. Just wanted you to hear it from someone else.”

  “Thank you.”

  They stared at each other, the moment drawing out. Liquid heat hummed through his veins from her nearness alone. She was the only woman who’d ever had that kind of power over him.

  “I feel like we’ve known each other longer than ten days.” She ducked her head.

  If it had been any other woman he might’ve been put off that she’d counted the days. Instead he felt relieved. A little heady, actually. He hoped she never lost that sweet innocence. “Well, we’ve covered a lot of ground together.”

  “Literally.”

  “Quite literally.”

  She tilted her head up, looking at him. “I had a great time tonight, Wyatt.”

  He touched her face and leaned closer until their breaths mingled, because he had to have another taste of her. And soon.

  “The best is yet to come,” he said softly.

  “You—you can beat the Chris-Craft? Clem’s food? The autumn sky?”

  His lips tipped upward. “Let’s give it a whirl.”

  He took her mouth like a man starving. Because he was starving for her. Their kiss may have been only yesterday, but he wasn’t counting in days. He was counting in hours, in minutes. And it had seemed like a million of each had passed since he’d claimed her lips.

  He deepened the kiss, and she yielded to him, clutching his shirt, hanging on for dear life. He was doing the same. Already fighting for breath, zero to sixty in ten seconds. That’s how it was with Grace. He was warm all over, tingling and buzzing and dizzy with want of her.

  His hand moved to cup the back of her head. His fingers dove into the hair behind her ears, the silky strands threading between his fingers. Her feminine smell invaded his senses in the most wonderful way.

  Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, and she settled into his arms, into his chest . . .

  Into his heart.

  The tender thought made his breath catch. They were combustible together, was the problem—if one could consider that a problem. And yes, moving too fast would be a mistake. He wanted to be careful with Grace. She deserved that.

  A little restraint was a good thing. He couldn’t quite make himself believe it just now. Especially when she made that little mewling sound. Sweet heaven.

  He gentled his hold. Slowed his pace. Managed—with the discipline of a saint—to dial it back a notch. He took small delicious nibbles, letting his mouth wander to the corners of her lips, each side. Then to her cheek, her jaw, the fragrant curve of her neck. She tilted her head to the side, the curtain of her hair falling aside as she made room for him.

  He glided his nose back up her neck—that smell. He was already addicted. He straightened, brushing her nose with his, letting his heart settle in the silence. He gradually became aware of the gentle rocking of the boat, the whisper of the breeze, the distant ping of hardware on a flagpole.

  Her fingers moved at the back of his neck, stirring every cell to life. “To be honest, I thought maybe last time was a fluke.”

  Her ragged voice made him want to make her breathless again. “Me too.”

  “It’s all your fault,” she said lightly.

  “Mine? It’s totally yours.”

  She held his gaze in the dark for a long moment. “What are we going to do?”

  His lips inched upward. “More of that, I hope.”

  When their mouths met again, she was smiling against his lips.

  Chapter Thirty

  Saturday morning Grace was so distracted by thoughts of her date she’d completely forgotten that a prospective buyer was coming. She grabbed a stack of fresh towels from the cleaning cart when she heard Molly leading them up the stairs. Grace was glad she’d just finished cleaning the last vacated room.

  “The Bluebell Inn has the distinction of being the town’s very first inn,” Molly said. “It was built in 1905 and featured ten bedrooms. Early on it was even a stagecoach stop. And starting in 1957, it housed the post office. We actually uncovered the old mail slot when we were renovating and found an old love letter—there’s a long story there, but I’ll spare you.

  “The inn’s been several things over the years, including a saloon, if you can believe it. In the sixties—the lake’s real heyday—other hotels opened, but the Bluebell Inn remained the place to stay.

  “In 1978 it was bought by Governor Jennings and turned into his family lake home. Then my parents purchased it, and my siblings and I had the pleasure of growing up here. Our parents dreamed of turning it back into an inn during their retirement. But sadly, that wasn’t to be. They passed away unexpectedly four years
ago. But my siblings and I took it upon ourselves to fulfill their dream.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” a woman said.

  “That’s some mission you took on,” a man said. “This place has quite the history.”

  “That’s only the tip of the iceberg, I assure you.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, and Grace smiled as the attractive middle-aged couple came into view.

  “This is my sister, Grace,” Molly said. “Grace, these are the Wellingtons—they’re from Charlotte.”

  They exchanged greetings and made small talk for a moment, then Molly led them past the cart and continued the tour.

  Grace put the towels in the room, closed the door, and pushed the cart up the hall toward the supply closet.

  “This is our suite.” Molly’s voice carried down the hall as she unlocked the door and ushered them inside. “All of our rooms feature an en suite bathroom, but as you can see, the suite also features a sitting area, fireplace, and a generously sized walk-in shower. This room functions nicely as a honeymoon suite—we have a lot of destination weddings here in Bluebell.”

  “It’s quite charming,” Mrs. Wellington said. “I love the décor.”

  “This particular room was updated two years ago when we had a small flood.”

  Grace aimed a frown at the end of the hall even though her sister couldn’t see her.

  “A flood?” Mr. Wellington asked. “What happened?”

  “Well, we had an old pipe burst, unfortunately. But no worries. We got it all cleaned up and had all the piping replaced.”

  “How extensive was the damage?” Mrs. Wellington asked.

  “The water covered most of the upstairs, but we cleaned it up quickly, cut away the drywall, sanitized . . . You know the drill.”

  The floor squeaked as they moved across the hall to another room. “This is the last vacant room I can show you, but the others are very much like this one. As you can see, each room is equipped with a mini-split to heat and cool the rooms. We like their high efficiency, and the guests enjoy the ability to control the temperature. Each room also comes with a large closet, a top-of-the-line mattress, luxury bedding, a thirty-two-inch flat-screen TV, a Keurig machine, and plush robes.”

  Grace finished stowing the cleaning cart and slipped across the hall into her room. She left the door cracked so she could eavesdrop.

  “It sounds like you’ve done a lot of work to the place, getting it up to code and all,” the man said. “But the house is quite old. How’s the foundation?”

  “We did discover some foundation issues when we renovated, but we had those fixed.”

  “What kinds of issues?” he asked.

  “Well . . . you’d have to talk to my brother. He’s the one who handled that part of the renovation. He previously worked as a commercial building contractor in Denver, so he’s knowledgeable and very thorough.”

  “He decided not to update the plumbing though?” the woman asked.

  Grace winced. Why was Molly sharing so much?

  “Oh, well, yes, he thought we’d get by with the plumbing for a while. But one of the pipes had enough, I guess.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “It was just one of those things. All new plumbing now though, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  They were making their way down the hall now, Molly mentioning some of the area’s natural attractions.

  “I didn’t see any other hotels around town,” the woman said.

  “There are a lot of homes for rent around here, but we’re the only inn in Bluebell. So far anyway . . .”

  “Are you aware of another one coming?” Mr. Wellington asked.

  “Well, no, not really. There are rumors that a chain hotel is interested in a property on the lake, but that probably won’t happen.”

  As her voice faded, Grace glared at Molly through the door. She was supposed to be selling the inn’s positive features, not pointing out all the negatives! This wasn’t like her Pollyanna sister at all. There wasn’t a thing wrong with the inn, and business rumors swirled around town all the time. Ninety percent of them never panned out.

  Grace could almost see her perfect little house on the edge of town getting snatched up from beneath her. She paced her room, checking out the window as she waited for the couple to leave. Finally, after about fifteen long minutes, the couple got into their car and drove away.

  Grace left her room and traipsed down the stairs, hoping to catch Molly before she left. When Grace reached the bottom her sister was talking to Levi in the lobby.

  “Yeah, unfortunately, I don’t think they’re all that serious,” Molly said.

  “What makes you say that?” Levi asked.

  Grace folded her arms over her chest. “Possibly because she was pointing out all the inn’s flaws.”

  “I was not!”

  Levi looked between them. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told them about the flood. You told them we had foundation issues. You told them a chain hotel might be coming to town.”

  Levi gave Molly a look. “Seriously?”

  “I didn’t say that. Well, okay, I said some of that, but I didn’t— I said we had a flood, but we cleaned it all up. I said we used to have a foundation issue, but we fixed it. I told them there was a rumor about a hotel chain.”

  “Well, why bring up any of that?” Grace asked.

  “And I said a ton of other things. Positive things. Glowing things! You didn’t hear all that. I told them how busy we are, how satisfied the guests are, how supportive the community is.”

  “Still, Molly,” Levi said. “Why mention all those other things? There’s nothing wrong with the inn. Why make them question that?”

  Molly’s face gave away every thought. “Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was just trying to be honest.”

  “When people hear flood they imagine ongoing mold issues,” Levi said. “Expensive mold issues. They weren’t here to see our meticulous cleanup. We know there’s no mold problem, but they don’t, so we don’t need to mention it.”

  “Fine. I won’t bring it up.”

  “Did you mention that stuff to all the other people who came through too?” Grace asked.

  “No . . .” Molly shifted, her gaze darting around restlessly. “Well, maybe some of it.”

  Grace threw her hands up. “Great. No wonder no one is interested. We’ve had Eeyore giving the grand tour!”

  Molly gasped. “You’re calling me Eeyore?”

  “No one is more surprised by that than me.”

  “Settle down, you two. We’ll have plenty more interested parties.”

  The front door opened and Wyatt entered wearing gym clothes. He glanced between the siblings, obviously catching the tense vibe.

  His gaze zeroed in on Grace. “Everything all right?”

  Grace calmed instantly at the sight of him. “Fine. Just sibling stuff. Good workout?”

  “Very good.”

  Mia came down the stairs, greeted them, then went straight to the front desk and leaned in, giving Levi a kiss. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Morning.” Levi went from stressed to smitten in ten seconds flat.

  Grace introduced Wyatt to Mia, further dispelling the tension in the room. Then Grace agreed to take the desk while Levi and Mia ran some wedding errands. Molly, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs, slinked out the front door, leaving Grace alone with Wyatt.

  After the door shut, Wyatt looked at Grace. “Not to sound narcissistic, but that wasn’t about me, was it?”

  “What?”

  “That wall of tension I walked into.”

  Grace took her place behind the front desk. “That was about the inn. I overheard Molly not doing such a great job with the prospective buyers. I think she might’ve scared them away.”

  “Maybe she’s not the right person for the job. You’d be great at giving a tour.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks, but Mol
ly really is the right person. We had a talk with her, and she promised to straighten up. It’ll be fine.”

  He ambled over to the desk, something shifting on his face with each step. He was staring at her in a way that stirred up those butterflies.

  “I had a nice time last night, Grace.”

  “Me too.” She’d been so full of adrenaline when she turned in last night, she couldn’t sleep. She kept reviewing that kiss—those kisses. Yum.

  He looked at her mouth like he was doing that right now. Then his gaze swung back to her eyes, holding them captive for a long, delicious moment.

  She’d been toying with an idea all morning but was afraid it was too soon. They’d only had one date, and he hadn’t yet mentioned a second. But those kisses. She was positive he’d enjoyed them as much as she had. And the warmth in his eyes gave her the courage to ask the question.

  “I was wondering—”

  “What are you—?”

  They spoke at the same time.

  He smiled. “Ladies first.”

  This was the first time she’d considered that standard a disadvantage. She straightened the brochures. “Right. Okay. So I’m hesitant to ask you this because we’ve only gone out once. But it appears there’s a wedding coming up in our family, and I have a plus one. It’s next Saturday—and I don’t even know if you’re still going to be around—but I’d like to bring a date. And I know weddings have all kinds of heavy implications, real and imagined, and guys get nervous about that kind of thing. But really, I’m just looking for a friendly date, someone to—”

  “A friendly date . . .”

  “—dance with. I was actually thinking of asking Nick, you know, just as friends, but—”

  “You are not asking Nick.”

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “You’re a little bossy.” Funny how it was so much more annoying when Levi did it.

  “Are you trying to ask me on a date, Grace?”

  Her face warmed, and heat prickled under her arms. He was always throwing her off balance. And from the cocky look on his face, he didn’t mind it one bit.

  “I guess I am,” she said, flustered. “If you’re still going to be around and everything.”

  “I am going to be around. And I’d love to be your plus one.” He set his palms on the counter, leaning in and coming within a foot of her. Giving her that intense look that made her knees go all wobbly.