Jenny watched as Tess stepped onto the curb across the street. Reading between the lines, it was clear the reviews about Whisper Falls and mysticism were on the money. Tess said as much as she left unsaid, but both were loud and clear. Jenny Mitchell wasn’t the only one in Whisper Falls with the gift of uncanny intuition.
Tess was right, as well. Uncomfortably so. She’d lost days and weeks just scrolling through pictures and video of her life before the accident. So much so it nearly paralyzed her in the past. Three words typed into a Google search changed that. Help me escape.
Jenny expected a link to the ten best psychiatrists in the city to pop up in her browser, or the lyrics to the “Piña Colada Song.” Anything but the website for Whisper Falls. The town’s mystical reputation caught her attention right away. That people found a profound sense of peace and purpose after visiting the falls sealed the deal.
Coming to Whisper Falls was more than a whim. She was drawn like a moth to flame, though she was still clueless as to why. Ironic, considering her personal freak-o-meter these days.
Jenny ignored the urge to race across the street to ask Tess outright, and turned to finish her unpacking. She stopped short with a start and a sharp breath. The tuxedo cat from her garden blinked, quietly staring at her from his perch on the counter.
“I think I need to get you a bell, though I should probably get you a collar first.” Embarrassed, she exhaled a quick laugh, and reached to scratch between the cat’s ears. “Tess says the town has no strays. What do you think that says about you and me, Kitto?”
The cat shook his head in a mini tornado, and Jenny grinned. “My sentiments exactly.”
The elegant feline sat on a pile of packing slips and invoices, while she bent for the rest of the handcrafted cards and notebooks.
“Where did you disappear to yesterday? I knew you came back, though.” She slid a side eye toward the cat. “The food I left on the porch was gone.” Jenny stopped what she was doing and looked at the cat. “Ugh, what if it wasn’t you that ate my leftovers?” She shuddered. “That’s all I need. Some rat pack looking to set up house. No offense to Mickey Mouse, but no thank you.”
The cat meowed, stretching like a witch’s familiar.
“Nah, my Spidey senses tell me it was you. I might have a blind spot when it comes to me, but my senses are pretty keen for everything else.” She leaned against the empty wooden display case.
“Do you know Tess? Charlie would have called her a downtown weirdo.” She laughed. “I kind of like her purple hair. I wouldn’t have had the courage before, but now?” She nodded. “Maybe I’ll get Tess to do something fun like that for me. Hell, the girl practically said I was the neighborhood cat lady, so why not shake things up? Silvery pink hair for the solstice. Kitchen Witch with a splash of Wood Witch. To match the feel of the shop.” She winked at the cat. “That would bring in the tourist traffic. I’ve always loved the idea of being witchy. Not that I’d dance naked under the moon or anything—” she toyed with the end of a card. “Not unless dream dude came to life and asked. I was ready and willing to give him a lap dance then and there in the woods, and would have, had I not fallen out of bed first.”
She put the cards down on the empty display. “I wish you were like Salem from the O.G. Sabrina the Teenage Witch. That way I could really talk to you, instead of talking to myself.”
She reached out to scratch under the cat’s chin, smiling as he lifted his head for more. “Tess is a good egg, to use her turn of phrase. She’s hooking me up with a handyman to look at repairs needed at the inn.”
Jen turned back to finish the cards. “Sam Gibson, I think. She can deny it all she wants, but Tess Everett has sex on the brain, and from my X-rated near-miss dream last night, I guess I do, too. She said I need a handyman to take me in hand, as well.
“Not Sam, though. I’ve already seen the two of them together.” She nodded absently. “It was as clear as the whiskers on your face, Kitto. Tess doesn’t know it yet, but she and Mr. Fix-It are about to hook up big time. Of course, I’ll know more once he comes over—”
The cat jumped off the counter, sending her paperwork and a carton of silver jewelry crashing to the shop floor. Earrings and bracelets scattered as the cat raced for the storeroom.
“Hey!” She ran for the storeroom doorway. “Kitto!” The shop’s back door was ajar, and Jenny’s brows knotted. She hadn’t been in the storeroom yet today.
“That better not have been a mouse,” she muttered before calling for the cat again. “Was it something I said?”
“I don’t know about that,” a masculine voice replied, “so why don’t we start with hello?”
Chapter Four
Jenny whirled on her heel at the reply, but her voice locked in her throat. The man standing just inside her front door was gorgeous. Tall, with broad shoulders and defined arms.
His tee-shirt clung, highlighting his pecks, but in a hard day’s work kind of way. Not like the metrosexual gym rats she saw everywhere in the city. It was his eyes that caught her most. Like a cross between bottle-glass green and a Jolly Rancher sour apple candy.
“Uhm, can I help you?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t actually squeak out loud the way it did in her ears.
Jenny moved to step over the paperwork and silver jewelry still on the floor, but her foot caught on a binder clip and she was going down. Hard.
The man darted out, catching her around the waist as she tried to right herself. “Easy there, killer, or you’ll break a leg in this fire trap.”
Holding onto his shoulder and his arm, Jenny steadied herself, getting her footing. He didn’t let go right away, making her step back from him.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah, my cat used the front counter as a launch pad chasing something out the back. Probably a mouse. I’ll have to add that to my list. Call the exterminator, along with the sign guy.”
Glancing up, she caught the amused smirk at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, did you want something? Unless you’re the fire marshal come to give me a citation for my mess, we’re not open yet.”
“Whoa!” He put a hand up, neutral. “I’m not the fire marshal, and I was just kidding about the mess. I can see you’re just setting up. Word around town is you bought the Willow Inn. I thought you might need a hand with the place. It’s been empty a long time.”
He held out his card, and she took it, giving it a quick scan. “Jack-of-all-Trades Handyman Services.”
“That’s me. Jackson Wilde. Jack to everyone except my family.”
Jenny looked up from the card, assessing him again. “Did you stop by on a whim or did someone tell you I needed a handyman?” The question was innocent enough, but after her conversation with Tess, she wasn’t completely sure what brought Jack to her door.
His expression said he caught the double meaning and was unsure how to reply, so she nipped that right in the bud. “I’m only asking because I already have another contractor coming to give me a quote. Tess Everett recommended him.”
“Sam Gibson,” Jack nodded. “He’s my business partner. We merged our companies about a month ago. Sam spread himself too thin taking on work at the new hospital wing going up at Silverton Memorial. It’s only twenty minutes from here as the crow flies, but it’s the kind of project that easily becomes all-consuming. My business takes me all over, so when he asked if I wanted to make Whisper Falls my home base, I said yes.”
Jenny watched the sexy way his mouth curved into an easy smile. “Basically you’re saying Sam isn’t available, but you are.”
“Pretty much.” His soft half-grin spread a little wider. “I took a chance, and decided to stop in, just in case. I’m not the only contractor around, but if you want someone who knows the ins and outs of Willow Inn, you can’t do better than me or Sam. We grew up in Whisper Falls, and my family owned the inn. Many moons ago.”
“You owned it,” she repeated, surprised. “As i
n ran it as a hotel?”
A full, gorgeous grin spread at that. “Not exactly. My family is huge. More of a clan. Lots of extended relatives coming and going. Still, we haven’t owned Willow Inn in nearly a century. Sad really. My ancestors were part of the original town charter back in 1786, though a settlement existed for a century beforehand.”
“What happened? Most people would fight to keep a legacy like that.”
Jack shrugged. “Easy to say, but harder to do, especially when money plays a part. The first World War happened, but there were other issues.”
“What could be worse than a world war?”
“Prejudice. Let’s just say Whisper Falls wasn’t as accepting a century or so ago. The waterfall isn’t the only thing that gave the town its name.”
“Whispers as in gossip.”
He nodded. “That’s all ancient history now, but I’m glad someone nice has the old place. What kinds of repairs are you looking to do? I hope not a complete remodel.”
“No.” She met his playful smile with one of her own. “First, I couldn’t afford a remodel. Second, I want to keep the charm of the place intact. Not only for myself, but for posterity, and the guests who’ll come to stay.”
Jack glanced at the shop door. “If now’s a bad time, I can come back another time, just let me—”
“No—” Jenny replied quickly, pocketing his business card. “Now’s good. Now’s very good.” She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the storeroom.
“Everything okay?”
“Uhm. Yeah…sorry. It’s my cat.” She laughed a little. “Well, not really my cat. We just hang out sometimes. I wasn’t sure if I should leave the back door open for him or not. He kind of comes and goes as he wants.”
Jack grinned, and if she thought his face couldn’t get any more handsome, she was wrong. “Yeah, cats are good company. I wouldn’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll stick around now that he knows you’re here to stay.”
“I’ve gotten attached to the little furball. I used to be a real dog person. Still am, but my late husband was a cat lover. He coaxed me onto the dark side.”
“Late husband,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Jenny.”
She nodded. “Thanks. It’s been almost three years now—” Jenny stopped mid-sentence. How did he know her name when she never formally introduced herself?
“It’s obvious the town filled you in better than I thought, but let’s make this official, shall we?” Holding out her hand, she smiled. “I’m Jennifer Mitchell. Jenny to my friends and neighbors.”
“Nice to meet you, Jenny Mitchell.” He took her hand, holding it gently but firm.
His palm was calloused, but smooth. He held her hand and her gaze a moment longer than he should. Jackson Wilde was breathtaking, and touching him, even for a second, made her wonder what his working hands would feel like on her body.
In that instant, the green in his eyes seemed to flash like the cougar in her dream. Ridiculous. Tess’s sex on the brain was contagious, and it was making her stupid.
“Uhm, let me close up, and then I’ll show you what I need done next door. We can go through the back door and head across the yard.”
“Do what you need to do,” he said, bending to pick up her paperwork and the individual packets of silver jewelry still on the floor. “Pretty stuff. You have good taste.”
She watched him squat to gather the rest. For such a muscular man, he moved with sinuous grace. He radiated raw sex appeal, but seemed unaware of its effect. Jackson was not the kind of handyman she expected. Not a plumbers’ crack in sight, though with his ass, who’d mind?
Ugh. Shaking herself out of whatever made her thoughts go south, she locked the front of the shop, and then waited by the storeroom door for him.
Jack followed her out the back, and she closed the service door, hoping she didn’t inadvertently lock the cat inside. They walked in awkward silence across the property, passing the courtyard and the stone memorial at the back corner.
“That’s lovely,” he said. “You don’t see that kind of workmanship these days.”
“Thank you. I wanted someplace quiet for a remembrance garden. Nothing ostentatious. Just meaningful to me and anyone else who may have loved and lost.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. The closest I’ve got is losing my parents. I’m so sorry, Jenny.”
She gave him a close-lipped smile. Her Spidey senses told her his sentiments were genuine, but at the same time she wished everyone would stop telling her they’re sorry.
“You’re a little sick of it all, huh.”
Her head jerked around, and she blinked at him. She hadn’t said a thing out loud. “No…I mean, yes—” she exhaled. “Oh, hell. I don’t know what I mean. It’s been almost three years, and the pain nearly crushed me every conceivable way, but I didn’t come here for people to feel sorry for me. I left the city for that very reason. I didn’t want to be the source of pity and gossip, but it seems there’s no escaping it, no matter where I go.”
“You can’t run from grief, Jen. It’s like a phantom limb. Eventually you stop noticing it, and then one day it’s gone. You won’t forget your family, like I’ll never forget my parents, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
“Am I a terrible person to say it doesn’t hurt so much now? Does that paint me as a cold-hearted bitch? Maybe I feel this way because I have gaps in my memory.” She shrugged. “That’s courtesy of the drunk driver that jumped the median and hit us.”
“My dad used to say work was the answer. Bury yourself in a project and you’ll feel better.”
Jenny watched his face. “You don’t believe that. I can tell.”
“Not one bit. People need to talk. They need to work through the stages of grief in their own time. Some people never get past the tragedies that befall them. Others are stronger. More resilient. It doesn’t mean they loved less.”
“Did you just say befall?” She smirked at him.
He snorted a quiet laugh. “I wax philosophical, and that’s your only takeaway?”
“Wax philosophical?”
“Can’t a contractor be well read and well spoken? I even knew the poem on your memorial before I saw it.”
They got to the back porch, and he followed her up the few steps. Jenny was glad he walked behind because the grin on her face would have embarrassed her to high heaven.
Unlocking the back door, she turned the handle only to find the door stuck. “Damn.” She shoved her shoulder into the wood. “We might have to go around to the front.”
“Allow me,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders to move her aside. Turning the knob counterclockwise, he leaned into a gentle push, and the door snicked open.
“How? I’ve been wrestling with that door for nearly two weeks.”
Jack shrugged. “It a contractor’s secret.” He pushed the back door open, and stepped aside for her to enter first.
“This solarium would be a complete draw if the windows weren’t so old and crusty. The draft that comes in under the door to the kitchen is wicked at night, and I can only imagine how bad it’ll be in February.”
Jack lifted his chin and inhaled. “It doesn’t smell moldy, though. That means it’s pretty dry.” Scanning the three walls of windows, he nodded. “The windows are old, but they’re not in bad shape. They could be scraped and repainted, and the edges weather-stripped. Not too big a deal.”
“I wish I could say the same about the kitchen, but I’ll save that for last.” Jenny opened the solarium’s French doors, opening into the inn’s oversized living room. “I love this room. The original crown molding and the masonry fireplace.”
“Even the wallpaper?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. “No. That’s got to go. In fact, I want the wallpaper gone from all the rooms. It’s ugly and peeling, and if I decide to keep the historic feel of the house, I’ll use period reproductions, but for accent walls.”
“Glad to hear that. I was
afraid you wanted a total gut-job.”
She angled her head, looking at him. “Too big a job for you?”
“Nope. Too much against the grain. I’d turn the work down on principle alone. Especially considering my family’s connection to the property.”
She didn’t comment, but her assessment of the handsome contractor just went up a notch. “There are eight bedrooms, including the proprietor’s suite. I’ve set myself up in there, but the other rooms aren’t too, too bad.”
Jenny motioned for him to follow her up the wide main staircase. “The hardwood floors need to be redone throughout the house, but as long as they’re clean and not a lawsuit waiting to happen, I’m okay with them being a little worn, for now.”
They went through the upstairs, room by room, until they got to the attic steps. The door leading to the third floor was nondescript, and it stuck as well.
“These were the original servant’s quarters, back in the day,” he said, opening the door the same way he had at the back. “The steps are really steep, so be careful.”
She followed him up the narrow wooden stairs, admiring his long legs and firm buttocks. “You seem to know the inside of this house well.”
“Sam and I used to visit when we were teenagers.” Jack stopped on the steps to glance over his shoulder at her. “Innocent stuff. We’d jimmy the back door, and then sneak in to… to…recreate.”
“Sounds more like criminal mischief.”
“That too, though I don’t think Sheriff Sloane will have much to say about it.”
“Meaning he was with you two delinquents.” She laughed. “So much for you and your contractor’s secret.”
He stepped onto the attic landing, and held a hand out for her. “You mean the back door?”
“Exactly.”
“Sam and I are contractors, and that back door is our secret, so yeah. Besides, he’s clan. Sloan, too.”
“Is everyone in this town related? Is Tess, too?”
“Considering she’s got the hots for my business partner, that would be creepy, so hard no.”
A Little Mistletoe and Magic: Ho Ho Howls Romance Holiday Edition Page 3
