The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley Book 5)

by Devney Perry

  “It’s okay.” My smile made her gasp and drop her pen. I was flustering her—an effect I had on a lot of women—but this was the first time I’d ever enjoyed it. I didn’t want Maisy to be uneasy, but I really fucking liked that she found me attractive.

  Because I found her incredible.

  “Three weeks,” Maisy repeated, looking back to the book to avoid my face. “I’ve got a long-term-stay unit open for the month. It has a kitchenette so you can cook, plus it has its own washer and dryer. The price is five hundred a week plus tax. The standard rooms are ninety-nine per night so it would save you some money as long as you don’t mind that I only clean it every other day.”

  Five hundred dollars was three times the amount I had planned to pay for a rented RV, but Maisy could have every last cent I had to my name. “That’s fine. I’ll take it.”

  “Sweet,” she whispered to the counter. “I’ll just need to see an ID and your credit card.”

  She finally looked up again, giving me the briefest glimpse of her smile, before she walked to a slotted shelf on the wall to grab some paperwork. When she came back, her gray-blue eyes locked with mine. I’d never been close enough to appreciate their unique color before, having only seen her from a distance.

  I memorized the color so I could keep them for my dreams when she was gone.

  We stared at each other for a moment too long, the air getting thicker as we breathed. Fuck me. She had all my nerve endings firing. My hands itched to reach out, to touch her smooth skin, but this counter was keeping me away.

  I didn’t move. I just kept studying her eyes until she blinked and broke away. “I, uh, just need you to fill this out.” She set the paperwork and a pen on the counter and pushed them toward me.

  I snapped out of her spell. “Sorry for staring. You just have beautiful eyes.” The words came flying out of my mouth before I could lock them down.

  She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, using the gesture to try and hide her wide smile, but I still saw it and it hit me right in the heart. Damn, this woman was going to wreck me. Five minutes with her and I wanted a lifetime. But since I’d never get it, I had to get out of this lobby. Fast. For my own sanity.

  Reaching for my wallet, I dug out my driver’s license and credit card. “Here you go.” I set them on the counter purposefully, not wanting to risk my fingers brushing with hers. Then I grabbed the pen, focusing on the paperwork instead of Maisy. I scribbled down my name, phone number and vehicle description while she photocopied my license and credit card.

  “Hunter Faraday,” she read my name from my ID as she brought it back from the copier.

  “That’s right.” I studied her face, expecting a flash of recognition, but there was none. She just smiled and set the cards back on the counter.

  Good. The less she knew about me, the better. If she didn’t recognize my name, it meant I had done a good job of staying under the radar the last time I’d been in Prescott.

  Too bad I couldn’t say the same this time around.

  “I’m, uh . . . Maisy. I own the Bitterroot, so just let me know if you need anything. If I’m not in the office, I leave my phone number on the door.”

  “Okay.” I stuffed my cards back in my wallet and shoved it into my jeans.

  “Here you go.” She handed me a key attached to a small tooled-leather strap. “You’re in room eight. It’s the last room along the long side of the building. First floor.”

  “Thanks.” I took one last long breath of her sweet lilac scent, then nodded and left the room. When the lobby door closed behind me, I wasted no time dragging my suitcases from my truck and into my new room. Sitting down on the white down comforter, I dropped my elbows to my knees and let my head fall.

  Way to stick to the plan, Faraday.

  I guess I’d be staying at The Bitterroot Inn after all, living three hundred feet from the one temptation I stood no chance at resisting.

  “What a clusterfuck,” I muttered just as my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and frowned at the name on the screen. “Hello.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “You know where.”

  “Hunter, is this really necessary?”

  I scoffed. “You tell me. Is it?”

  Silence.

  “That’s what I thought. Listen, now isn’t a good time. I’ll talk to you later.” I didn’t wait for a response or a good-bye before hanging up.

  Staying at Maisy’s motel wasn’t going to be easy, but if it kept her safe, I’d stay here forever.

  Maisy

  I banged my head on the counter.

  “Worst. Impression. Ever,” I told my shoes. “Ever!”

  That had to be a record for the number of “ums” and “uhs” I’d ever said in a five-minute span. I hadn’t stammered that much since being asked to participate in an impromptu high-school debate.

  Hunter must think I’m a complete dork. Just another desperate woman fawning over his handsome face. No wonder his paperwork was full of chicken scratch. He’d been in such a hurry to escape the drooling, bumbling motel owner that he’d barely made his script legible. If not for having his driver’s license and credit card, I wouldn’t have known his name.

  But what a name.

  Hunter Faraday.

  I stood up straight and tapped my chin. “Hunter Faraday,” I whispered to the empty room. Where had I heard that name before? Had I met him?

  I shook my head. No. His name was vaguely familiar but there was no way I’d forget that face. Or his body.

  For the first time ever, I was jealous of a plain tan sweater. I wanted to be wrapped around those Olympic-swimmer-sized shoulders. I wanted to brush against his flat stomach. I wanted to hug his narrow hips. Those dark-wash jeans didn’t know how lucky they were to cover those sexy long legs and skim down his flawless ass.

  And his smell? I had dated men that wore Armani cologne before, but it had never smelled that good. When it’d wafted across the counter, I’d nearly fainted and he’d still been two feet away. Who knew what kind of a blathering fool I’d become if he ever came closer than that?

  “Don’t go there, Maisy Ann,” I reminded myself.

  Hunter was my guest and a paying customer. I needed to keep a professional distance. Three weeks of him staying in room eight would pay for Coby’s new bedroom in the loft and I couldn’t afford to creep Hunter out and drive him away.

  “Work. There is always work to be done.” Determined to move past our encounter, I shoved thoughts of the gorgeous Hunter Faraday aside and got back to work.

  While I picked up the papers I had knocked on the floor, I tried not to think of his perfect smile. While I updated my appointment book with his reservation, I refused to picture his soft, full lips. When I jogged upstairs to the loft and ate a quick lunch, I did my best to ignore the sound of his deep voice ringing in my ears, saying he thought my eyes were beautiful.

  By the time I walked back down the interior stairs that led from my loft to the lobby, I had shaken off the jitters from meeting Hunter. Well . . . mostly. He wasn’t the type of man you forgot easily. Hunter was a benchmark type of man, a ruler I’d use to measure the physical appearance of any man in my future.

  Even with his man bun.

  I’d never found man buns particularly attractive before. Sure, some of Hollywood’s A-listers could pull them off—my Chrises certainly could—but any time I’d seen one in person, they’d always looked so thin and greasy. Yet Hunter’s hair was a thing of sheer beauty. It was thick and soft—not an oily strand in sight. The natural blond highlights around his face were more noticeable because of its length, and the way he’d pulled it back—into a clean, tight knot—highlighted the angles of his face.

  He’s a guest. He’s a guest. Stop daydreaming about his hair.

  I had only met a few men with a magnetic presence like Hunter’s. All had left scars, especially Coby’s father. And as a twenty-nine-year-old single mother with a business to run, the la
st thing I needed was another wound.

  Another reason to steer clear of my new guest.

  So I used work to busy my mind, spending the afternoon at my computer returning some overdue emails. Hours later, I stood from my desk, proud that I’d been so productive despite the handful of times thoughts of Hunter had threatened to distract. I grabbed my keys and purse from the lobby, about to walk to Quail Hollow to pick up Coby, when my phone rang.

  “Hey,” I said, greeting my younger brother, Michael. “What’s up?”

  “Would you care if I got Coby from daycare today?”

  He had never picked up Coby before. “Uh, no. I guess not.”

  When Coby had been a baby, Michael had always been nervous around him, always worried about dropping him and unsure how to play with him. But now that Coby was running and talking, Michael had been working hard to build a new bond with my son. I loved that they were playmates. Coby might not have a father, but between my dad and brothers, he was not short on male role models.

  “Do you want to come and get his car seat?” I asked. “Or were you going to walk?”

  “I’m driving but I stopped by Mom and Dad’s and borrowed the Yukon with his seat.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you in few?”

  “Yep. I’m going to take him for a quick stop and then we’ll be there.”

  “Sweet! Have fun.” Michael must have something special planned and I couldn’t wait to hear all about it when Coby got home.

  I hung up and glanced at the clock on the wall. With an extra thirty or forty minutes, I could clean the laundry room and cross it off my to-do list for tomorrow.

  Owning and managing a small-town inn wasn’t all that glamorous. The work could be disgusting and I’d gone through more rubber gloves than I could count, but the work was honest. It was real. It was something I’d come to appreciate and rely on.

  Stepping outside and around the vending machines outside the lobby, I propped open the door to the laundry room and wheeled out my cleaning cart so I’d have room to clean the tiny space.

  The laundry room and my office shared a wall, and one day, if I had my wish, I was going to eliminate my office completely and expand my laundry room. I’d gladly trade desk space for an actual table to fold sheets and some extra shelf space to stockpile toilet paper and laundry detergent.

  But on the bright side, the laundry room was a breeze to keep clean because it was so small. By the time I had wiped down the appliances and mopped the cement floor, I heard a car door slam and a sweet little voice yell, “Mommy!”

  I dumped out my bucket of bleach water and rushed outside. “Coby!” Seeing his adorable face was the highlight of my day, giving me a fresh infusion of energy for the remainder of the evening.

  “Mommy! We got Pickle!” He tugged on Michael’s hand, trying to pull his large uncle faster across the parking lot.

  Michael held up his free hand and waved. When he waved like that, it always reminded me of Beau. Michael looked more and more like our big brother every day, minus the beard.

  Coby, on the other hand, was the spitting image of his father. I wished he looked more like me or my brothers, but we didn’t share many features except for our smile.

  “Hey, buddy!” I waited for him to run right into my legs before bending down to give him a hug and brush the brown hair off his forehead. “How’s my little man? Did you have a fun day at school?”

  He nodded wildly. “Mommy! We got Pickle!”

  “Oh, really? I love pickles.” I smiled and looked up at Michael. “Did you guys go to the grocery store?”

  “Um, not exactly.” Michael’s eyes darted away from mine and back to Mom’s SUV.

  “Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” Coby said, jumping up and down in my arms.

  “A puppy? Cool!” Michael already had a dog but he loved animals so another pet would fit right into his house. “What did you get? I want to see.” I stood and grabbed Coby’s hand, racing with him toward the Yukon.

  “Maisy, wait!” Michael called behind us, catching us quickly with his long strides.

  “Boy or girl?” I asked at the same time Coby shouted, “Mommy, Pickle gets to live wif us!”

  My feet skidded to a stop on the pavement.

  Michael bumped into my back. Coby’s body went lurching forward, and if not for his hand still attached to mine, his knees would have landed on the asphalt. I steadied him on his feet and dropped to a knee. “What did you say? Pickle gets to live with us?”

  “Yes!” He started bouncing up and down again, his brown eyes full of pure joy. “Uncle Michael said Pickle can be my doggie!”

  “Really.” I stood and aimed a glare at Michael. “You bought him a dog?” I asked through clamped teeth.

  How could he have not checked with me about this? I wanted Michael to be close with Coby, but a puppy? Coby was too young to care for an animal himself and I had plenty to do without adding puppy training to the mix.

  “I can explain.” He held his hands up, backing away before I could punch him in the gut.

  I dug a fist into my hip. “I’m listening.”

  “Um . . .” Michael took another step back as Coby started pulling on my arm.

  “One second, buddy,” I told my son without breaking eye contact with my brother.

  “Okay. Don’t be mad at me,” Michael said. “This was all Dad’s idea.”

  “Mommy. Come. On.” Coby jerked my arm with each word.

  “Chill out, dude. Just one more minute.” I squeezed his hand but kept focused on my brother. “Michael?”

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Nope.” If Michael had already promised Coby the dog, taking it away would be brutal. I stood a chance at not breaking my boy’s heart if the dog never entered our home. The second that animal was inside? I’d never get it out. “You’d better talk fast.”

  Michael sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair. “Did you hear that Dr. Kelly is retiring?”

  I nodded. Everyone in town knew Jamison County’s only veterinarian was retiring. “What does that have to do with me getting a puppy?”

  “He’s selling his practice to his granddaughter. She just moved back to Prescott last month.”

  “Alana?” I remembered her from school but she was a couple years younger than Michael, who was two years younger than me. I hadn’t seen her since before I’d graduated and gone off to college.

  “Yeah, Alana. She’s back in Prescott. Anyway, she was getting lunch at the deli today, and Dad and I happened to be in line behind her and overheard that she had these puppies dropped off at the clinic. Some breeder was looking to sell a few in town.”

  “Mommy!” Coby yelled, still yanking on my arm.

  “One more second.” I hoisted him up on my hip, hoping that holding him would buy Michael and I a few more minutes to talk. “Keep going,” I ordered Michael.

  “I had a big crush on her in high school but she had a boyfriend. I was telling Dad about her at lunch and he said I should stop by the clinic. Welcome her back to town and ask her out. Dad thought that if I took Coby and told her I was buying my nephew a puppy, she’d definitely say yes to a date.”

  “So you bought me a dog because you were trying to impress a girl?”

  He looked at me like my question was ridiculous. “Well, yeah. She’s not just a girl. She’s the girl.”

  I stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. Michael had never, ever expressed that strong of an interest in a woman before. He must really be crushing on Alana Kelly if he was desperate enough to take Dad’s dating advice.

  I sighed and turned to Coby. “Pickle is the doggie’s name?”

  “I picked it!”

  He was so proud of himself that it made staying mad at Michael difficult. “That’s a great name, buddy. Good job.”

  Leaning in, I kissed Coby’s chubby cheek. His tiny hands came up to my face and squeezed my lips together, something he thought was hilarious. He started giggling and I tickled his side, sending
him into a fit of flailing laughter. He was getting so big, I couldn’t carry him for long and definitely not when he was squirming, so I set him back on his feet.

  “All right.” I let him pull me forward again. “Let’s go see this dog.”

  “Yay! Pickle!” His shout sounded more like “Picko” than “Pickle.” Coby had excellent enunciation for an almost-four-year-old, but we were still working on our l and th sounds.

  Michael stepped around us and led the way to the back of the SUV. Then he opened the hatch, lifted out a metal dog crate and set it on the ground. Coby’s arms were flapping everywhere as he waited for Michael to open the crate.

  Inside was the most adorable beagle puppy I’d ever seen. All four of his feet had white socks. The white tip of his tail wagged with abandon as he bounced around the newspaper-lined crate. His coat was glossy and clean, black on his back and brown around his face. But it was Pickle’s sweet brown eyes and floppy ears that were my undoing.

  Damn it. I had a puppy.

  “He’s licking me!” Coby giggled, sticking his little fingers through the metal grid so Pickle could attack them.

  “I bought a collar and leash,” Michael said as he pulled out big plastic sacks from the Yukon. “There’s food, chew toys in here and some rawhide sticks. I already prepaid for his next five vet visits, plus one for him to get neutered when it’s time. When he’s out of dog food, just let me know and I’ll buy more.”

  “I can afford a dog,” I told him, watching Coby, who was completely entranced by the puppy. “I just wasn’t planning on getting one until Coby was older.”

  Michael’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry. I know I should have told you, but I got caught up in seeing Alana again.”

  “And you knew I wouldn’t say no.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “I can take Pickle if it’s too much.”

  “No, look how happy Coby is. That dog isn’t going anywhere.” My son was now jabbering to his new pet. I tore my eyes away from Coby and looked up at my brother. “You really like this girl, huh?”

  He nodded, his eyes softening with adoration. “A lot.”

  Alana was one lucky woman to have caught my brother’s eye. He’d treat her like royalty if she let him.