Her Unexpected Detour (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  “Yes, thank you. You were right—I feel a million times better.”

  “Wonderful. Then why don’t you come downstairs and get a little something to eat now?”

  Kayla glanced up and down the hall. Could she really walk out there, wearing only a robe? That’s when she looked down, and realized she had yet to put on the robe. With a grimace, she shifted her towel-covered torso so that more of it was hidden by the door.

  “Um, thanks, Ruby. But I’m not really that hungry.”

  “Nonsense. After all the shivering you did, we need to get some food in your belly. Wouldn’t want you fainting from low blood sugar, now would we?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Good. I’ve got some snacks set out in the dining room for you. Come down when you’re ready.”

  Ruby shuffled away without another look back, and Kayla knew the battle had been lost. Why hadn’t she just asked Ruby to bring her the food? Because that would have been rude, she thought, and would have made her look like some helpless, needy little girl. Of which she was neither.

  She shut the door and crossed the room to trade her towel for the robe. Robe? A tent was more like it. The darned thing was so big she had to roll up both sleeves just to find her hands. Kayla wrapped it around her as best she could and checked her reflection in the mirror. She looked…hideous.

  Doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. She wasn’t there to impress anyone. Especially not the hunky handyman.

  Now if only she could make herself believe that.

  Finally.

  Brent loved his grandmother, but when it came to getting work done, she was the politest disruption alive. Not that he could really blame her. Ruby was a social being—she thrived on interacting with others. Which made the off-season a particularly difficult time for her. And him, when his cousin wasn’t here to keep her company.

  Where the hell is Miles, anyway? he wondered as he hurried inside with the last of the paint supplies. Damn idiot better not have slid into a ditch, too. Because if that was the case, he could just walk his ass back to the inn—Brent was already an hour behind in his work. And just because the rain had delayed their painting of the barn didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of rooms inside that still needed a few coats of paint.

  Which was probably why his cousin was nowhere to be found.

  Brent headed for the stairs but stopped at their base to allow his descending grandmother to pass.

  “Hungry, dear?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Going to waste away.” She patted his belly as she passed.

  Not likely, he thought with a grin, remembering the veritable feast o’ grease he’d consumed earlier at EAT.

  “If you change your mind,” she said without stopping, “there are snacks in the dining room. Kayla will be down shortly.”

  Christ. Leave it to Ruby to take any opportunity she got to try and play matchmaker. Because that’s exactly what this offering of a snack was. He eyed the staircase.

  The coast was still clear.

  With a new sense of urgency, he made his way up the stairs with both arms full of paint supplies. When he reached the oversized landing, which also served as a sitting area, he paused. Looked and listened.

  Still no sign of her. Relief washed over Brent. A few more steps and he’d be past her room. Once he made it to the Blueberry Suite, he could close the door and lose himself in his work. If he were lucky, the tow truck would be here and long gone with her before he finished.

  And that would be the only way he’d get lucky today. Judging by her skittish behavior in the car, no way would Kayla let him get close to her again. Which was for the best, he told himself. Repeatedly.

  Two steps past the landing, the bag of rollers and brushes he’d wedged under one arm decided to go Kamikaze. With a curse, he stooped to set down his paint cans, then scrambled to retrieve the AWOL items.

  One roller cover. Two. Damn, where was the third? He scanned the landing, then crouched down to check under the nearest furniture.

  “Looking for something?”

  Brent’s head jerked up at the sound and slammed into the edge of an end table. He bit back a stream of profanity and waited for the stars to disappear from his vision. As they did, he froze.

  He’d been right to want to hurry past Kayla’s room. She stood before him now, barefoot and nearly irresistible in a white, oversized bathrobe. Adorable and tantalizing all at the same time. How was that even possible?

  “Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze back to the floor. “Rogue paint roller. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

  “You mean this?”

  He shouldn’t have looked. Should have kept his eyes fixed on the floor before him. But, hey, he was male and had a pulse. So his traitorous gaze flashed to her as she bent down to grasp the roller cover at her feet. The top of her robe gaped at the movement, providing him another accidental peek at her cleavage, still rosy pink from her shower.

  She gripped the base of the tube, stood, and brought it to him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  He collected the rest of his supplies and headed for the hall without another word. The less interaction he had with Kayla, the less tempted he’d be to get to know her. He’d given up long ago on dating or allowing himself to care about anyone outside their family, and now was definitely not the time to go changing that. The tow truck would be here soon enough, and then she’d be gone.

  Because that’s what the women in his life always did.

  They left.

  Chapter Five

  Kayla hit the bottom step of the front staircase and kept right on going. She didn’t look back, didn’t pause to catch one more glimpse of Brent. What was it about him that seemed to turn her on and tick her off at the same time?

  Okay, so maybe it’d been a while since she’d been with anyone besides Big Red. As in months and months. But vibrators never told you to shush when the game came back on, or complained when you threw away their favorite two-year-old fantasy football magazine.

  Men.

  Kayla padded into the dining room in her bare feet and looked around for Ruby. The white-haired hostess was nowhere to be seen, but a small feast had been set out on a table along one wall of the room. Deli meats and cheeses, artisan bread, diced fruit, and small pastries had her stomach suddenly growling.

  Ruby stepped out from the kitchen and spied her. “Feeling better, dear?”

  “Yes, thank you. I feel like a whole new me.” She tugged at the top of her robe. “Will feel even better once I’m back in my own clothes, though.”

  “Poo!” Ruby said, walking around Kayla. She set down a notebook and pen, then picked up a plate from the stack beside the mini feast and handed it to her. “No one here is going to judge you by what you’re wearing. So you just get some food in that skinny little body of yours and relax a while. Happy and comfortable, that’s how my guests should feel.”

  Kayla took the plate and smiled. “Well, okay then.”

  She made herself a ham and cheese sandwich, scooped up a small bowl of fruit, then headed to a table near the windows with both. Ruby poured her a glass of ice water and followed along.

  “Would you like me to brew a fresh pot of coffee?” She set the water down by Kayla’s place setting. “I’d be happy to.”

  “No,” Kayla said. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

  “All right. But if you change your mind, let me know.”

  With that, Ruby collected her things and disappeared behind the kitchen door once more. That left the dining room silent, save for the plink, plink, plink of freezing rain still falling. Kayla allowed herself to get lost in the wintery scene outside as she ate. Being there, in the middle of nowhere at an inn blanketed by ice, gave her an odd sense of peace. It was as though she were untouchable to all her troubles back home, even if just for a little while.

  And, boy, did she have troubles back home. The memory of her horrid m
orning returned, bringing with it dark thoughts about Wayne Advertising. How could Joe have stooped so low? And why hadn’t her boss given her a chance to explain? But the bigger question she faced now was whether or not her dream career was salvageable.

  “All finished?”

  Kayla turned from the window and offered her hostess a smile. “Yes. Thank you, Ruby. That was just perfect.”

  “Wonderful! Did my grandson ever make it down to join you?” Ruby craned her neck toward the lobby.

  “No. Was…he supposed to?”

  “That boy never listens,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “He’d starve himself to death if I didn’t keep reminding him to eat. Work, work, work, that’s all he ever does.”

  Kayla grimaced. She could relate.

  “And he works here, for you?”

  Ruby settled into a chair at Kayla’s table. “Yes. Well, before this spring it was just when I needed him for special projects. He had his own business then. But our groundskeeper resigned a few weeks ago, and Brent insisted he could do the job himself. Such a good boy.”

  “That was very sweet of him. He must really love his grandmother.” She gave Ruby a wink.

  “Nothing to be ashamed of,” Ruby said and winked back.

  Kayla had been fond of Ruby since the moment they met. The spunky senior had been nothing but kind to her, treating her from the beginning like one of the fold. It made Kayla miss her own long-deceased grandparents even more. And her mother, who would have adored Ruby, too.

  Careful to keep her emotions in check, Kayla glanced around the large dining area. What might it look like, full of summertime guests? Would there be families with babies and toddlers, middle-aged couples on weekend getaways, or retirees traveling town to town as they saw fit? She cast a curious look at Ruby.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What’s it like, running a place like this?”

  “Like every day is an adventure,” Ruby answered, her voice reverent and a twinkle in her eyes. “New guests and old, each here for different reasons, different durations. And all with their own stories, their own personalities. People come from all over the country to stay here, you know. Why, we’ve even had a few families from Europe seek us out.”

  “Europe?”

  Ruby nodded. “Just England and Germany so far. They had friends from the States who’d stayed here and recommended the Checkerberry. You can imagine how tickled I was when I heard that.”

  She paused, her gaze on the entryway. After a moment, she sighed and looked back to Kayla. The sparkle in her eyes had faded.

  “Unfortunately, people just haven’t been coming here as often the past few years. Before, we’d have every suite booked and a growing waiting list before opening day. Now, we’re lucky to fill half our rooms on non-holiday weeks.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about us, dear,” Ruby said, reaching out to pat her hand. “Every inn has its highs and lows, and we’ve survived both. Unfortunately, not everyone on my staff is as confident as me.”

  “Why aren’t people coming back, do you think?”

  Ruby shrugged. “My guess is it’s a combination of things. Bad economy. Price of gas keeps rising. Lowered expectations. People see all these cookie-cutter hotels right off the highway where they can sleep cheap, so they go there and settle for rooms with minimal amenities and window views of the hotel next door.

  “Inundated by commercials and billboards, so many travelers have forgotten it doesn’t have to be that way. Out here, they have gorgeous views from every window. Cozy seats by the fire inside, or on a lounge chair outside. No crowds, no noisy traffic. Just peace and quiet.”

  “Well, I’d pick your inn over some stuffy hotel any day, if I were on vacation,” Kayla said.

  She looked around the dining room once more, with its high ceilings and ornate parquet floor, and felt an unexpected compulsion to help Ruby fill it to bursting once more. But what could she possibly do? Kayla knew nothing about running a hotel. Heck, she didn’t even have her computer on her—it was still in the backseat of her car.

  Her car.

  Kayla’s gaze shifted to a large clock hanging on a wall across the way. What she really should be doing was finding a way to turn the tables on that SOB Joe and get her suspension lifted, not out trying to rescue little old ladies and their aging bed-and-breakfasts. If she wanted to pay her rent this month, anyway. Now where was that tow truck?

  “Well, thank you, dear. Perhaps you can come back for a visit sometime soon.” Ruby rose to her feet. “Why don’t I go and check on those clothes of yours, hmm? Your ride should be along any time now.”

  “Thank you.” Kayla stood as well, and picked up her plate, fork, and glass. “Where would you like these?”

  “You can just leave them there, dear.”

  “Please,” she said, stepping forward. “I’ve put you out enough as it is. Let me help clean up.”

  The ghost of a grin tugged at the soft wrinkles around her hostess’s lips. “If you insist. Just set the dishes in the kitchen next to the sink. The trays with food still on them can go on the island in the middle of the kitchen. I’ll wrap those up. They’ll be gone soon enough, once my grandsons sniff them out.”

  “Sniff what out?”

  Both women turned their heads toward the new voice. A warmer, jovial tenor than that of the grouchy handyman. The newcomer standing in their midst looked nothing like Brent, either. This man was tall and lean with stylish light brown hair and chocolate eyes. His face was smooth and slightly tanned, his smile wide and welcoming.

  “Miles, dear, you’re just in time to help,” said Ruby.

  “Oh?” His gaze met Kayla’s, then dipped briefly to her robe and back. “Well, you know how I love to help. Any way I can.”

  Kayla swallowed hard. Heaven help her. If this was yet another grandson, Ruby needed to change the name of this place from Checkerberry Inn to Temptation Inn.

  Brent finished rolling primer in the Blueberry Suite, then stepped back and dragged a hand across his damp forehead. He’d worked up one hell of a sweat trying to make up for lost time. And to keep Kayla off his mind.

  But now that he’d stopped to take a break, all that white on the walls had him thinking about a certain terrycloth robe and the shower-fresh skin beneath it. Nope, don’t go there, he told himself. Not gonna happen. With a frustrated sigh, he set down his roller and headed into the suite’s bathroom to wash up.

  Only the room had been stripped bare. No soap, no towels, no nothing.

  Of course not, you idiot—you cleared all of that out yesterday. Prepping to paint, remember?

  Brent muttered a few choice words about his predicament, then turned and made his way downstairs. He’d worked up an appetite. Might as well take a short break and grab a bite to eat.

  Hungry. Yep, that was his story, and he was sticking to it. Had nothing to do with checking to see if their robe-wearing stranded motorist had left yet or not. Or that he hoped she had, nearly as much as he hoped she hadn’t.

  As Brent headed downstairs and through the lobby, muffled laughter greeted his ears, the sound high and musical. He couldn’t help but smile, envisioning Ruby in her element, entertaining and mothering. But his smile faded as the sound of a third voice chimed in.

  A voice that belonged to his playboy cousin.

  Brent shoved the kitchen’s swinging door open. Three faces turned toward him in surprise, their expressions frozen in place.

  “What’s this? A party, and no one invited me?” His gaze settled on Kayla, who quickly looked away.

  “Oh, so now you’re the partying type?” Miles said from beside her. “Shall I send out a press release?”

  “Miles,” Ruby chided, then turned toward Brent. “How’s your painting going, dear?”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Would have gotten more done if worthless over there had helped like he’d promised.”

  “Now,
cousin. Is that how we talk to our guests?” Miles draped an arm around Kayla’s robed shoulders.

  Brent found neither the humor nor the gesture amusing, and anger began to boil up inside him. Which was ridiculous, of course. She didn’t belong to him. Didn’t belong to any of them. In fact, they’d all be better off when she was long gone.

  “I wasn’t talking to her, I was talking to you. And she’s not our guest. More like a visitor. A temporary visitor.”

  The words came out sounding harsher than he’d intended, and Kayla’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. For once he wished he could be more like Miles: easygoing and a natural with the opposite sex. Then maybe he wouldn’t keep coming off sounding like a total dick.

  “Well, as long as she’s here,” Ruby said, her voice taking on the calm, detached tone which always preluded a later lecture, “you will treat her with courtesy and respect.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Brent muttered, then made his way across the room to the utility sink.

  The old sink and the washer and dryer next to it always reminded him of his grandfather. John Masterson had been a good man and a hard worker. He’d always put his family’s needs before his own and rarely let his temper get the best of him. All qualities that Brent worked hard to emulate. Some days, that was an easier task than others.

  Still, he couldn’t help but think if his grandfather were here now, he would have told Miles to stop flirting and get to work. The thought brought Brent a small amount of comfort. Damn, he missed the old codger. Missed his folks even more. Would probably miss Miles, too, if he ever stopped threatening to leave town and actually did it.

  He shot a quick glance back in his cousin’s direction. Miles’s arm was still draped over Kayla’s shoulders.

  Nah, probably not.

  He tried to tune out the others as he scrubbed away the paint splatter from his forearms. Yet another reason he hated painting. Too bad old Jackson had quit on them. Painting never seemed to bother him…

  The inn’s phone sprang to life, and the banter behind him quieted.

  “Checkerberry Inn, how may we help you?” Ruby asked. “Ah, yes, she’s here. One moment, please.”