Falling Inn Love: A Pumpkins and Proposals Novel (The Harvest Ranch Romance Series Book 3)

by Amberlee Day

  Honk!

  The blast was a long one, and probably sounded angry to whoever was in the car behind him. Freddie pushed Pumpkin back as quickly as he could manage.

  Brenda Lee was suddenly crooning baby talk at seeing her dog for the first time in a week. “Aw, there’s my Pumpkin! I’ve missed you, baby. Has Freddie been taking good care of you?”

  “Now, Brenda Lee. Tell me what it is you know about who—”

  An insistent tap on Freddie’s window told him that he was likely about to meet the person who’d been honking at him. Ready to dispense of the intruder quickly, he rolled down his window and put his head out.

  “Now, listen,” Freddie began, but he stopped when he saw the angry, middle-aged policewoman scowling at him. “Oh.”

  “If you don’t move your vehicle off this loading zone immediately ...”

  “Sorry, officer,” Freddie said, but he was already pulling away from the curb, narrowly avoiding a collision as he sped into the driving lane. If he didn’t get his questions answered soon, he’d blow a gasket.

  “Be careful,” Brenda Lee said as if she and Pumpkin had nothing to do with almost getting him a ticket.

  “Now,” Freddie said, drawing in a slow breath as he concentrated on driving. Patience, and he’d learn what he needed to know. “Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”

  ***

  Kate drooped over the front desk reservation book—another upgrade her parents needed, moving into the computer age instead of keeping their records in the same green spiral-bound notebooks they’d used her whole life. It wasn’t the reservations that interested her, though, but the news stories on her phone.

  Author spends week tracking down addict husband

  Lost Vegas weekend for author Brenda Lee Mitford

  Family values author hits Vegas with gambling husband

  And the worst of the bunch, accompanied by a photo of Kate being dragged off the parade float by Pumpkin: Who’s the mystery woman posing as Mitford during author’s Vegas fling? That one was particularly nasty. And, adding salt to the wound, it was a terrible photo of Kate.

  “This is truly the worst disaster I’ve ever caused,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “And I don’t even know how I did it.”

  The revolving door moving caught her attention, as did a muffled whine. She looked up in time to see a woman pushing through the entryway, a wide smile on her face. Outside, Freddie stood with Pumpkin, watching the woman before turning toward the alley. Kate’s heart turned over and landed in her stomach.

  “Isn’t this adorable?” the woman gushed in a Southern accent. “I love the array of ceramic jack-o’-lanterns on that shelf, such fun faces. But really, isn’t this a bit toned down from your website? I expected kitsch and cheese!”

  Kate blinked. “Can I help you?”

  “No, no, I already have my room key. I just wanted to come through that beautiful door and experience the place myself. I’ve been imagining the Cornucopia for quite a while.” She said Cornucopia with exaggerated, staccato syllables, as if she were just inventing the word as she spoke it.

  Realization dawned on Kate, and she took in the woman’s height and build. The thin, reddish-blond hair and simple slacks and blouse didn’t give anything away, but yes, Freddie was right. Brenda Lee might have been older than Kate, but their frames were similar. All except the bust, of course. Kate pulled her shoulders back to improve her own. “You must be Brenda Lee. Welcome to Harvest Ranch.”

  The author’s gaze settled on Kate, wide and intelligent as they quickly sized her up. “Since I presently look nothing like my alter ego, I assume yours is the head that’s been wearing my wigs this week.”

  Straightforward and lacking appreciation—but then, she must already know about the leaked information. She probably blamed Kate too. “That’s me.”

  Brenda Lee nodded. “A good move on your part. Your inn will benefit from the publicity, I have no doubt.”

  Wow, very direct. What was next, a threat to call her lawyer? Pin Kate down for this assumed story leak? But maybe Kate was reading too much into it too fast.

  Brenda Lee cast her gaze around the room one more time before heading toward the rear doors. “Time to see if the cabins meet expectation,” she said, and she was gone. Kate stood up so she could see when Freddie and Pumpkin joined her, and the three of them walked slowly through the courtyard on their way to cabin eight, Brenda Lee pointing and gesticulating with expressive hands at the inn’s features.

  “Hoo boy,” Kate breathed. “The queen has arrived, and I’m not only not needed, I’m the despised peasant.”

  Which wouldn’t have hurt so bad if it was just Brenda Lee. Knowing that Freddie felt that way too was more than she could bear to think about.

  While guests had come and gone through the day, Kate wasn’t sure what to think when two men and a woman came through the revolving door, all professionally dressed and all frowning at what they saw like they were ready to redecorate the lobby themselves.

  The woman, wearing a navy suit and high heels, folded her arms. “Yes, we’d have to start from scratch for certain, but we know that going into it.”

  “True,” said one of the men. The other watched them. He only nodded, and he looked like whatever they said, he’d be ready to agree with them. All three made Kate’s nerves frazzle.

  “Can I help you?”

  The yes-man walked quickly over to the desk, already extending a business card. He had a weak smile and his eyebrows drooped like he was in the doghouse. “Flip Larson, Flip Larson Realty. I spoke to the owners a few weeks ago about showing around some potential buyers?”

  The hair prickled on the back of Kate’s neck, and she wanted to give back the card. “And they said you could?”

  The man’s apologetic smile broadened almost like a cartoon character’s, and Kate drew back. “They asked me to. Are they here? Bill and Sharon?”

  Kate gulped down her nausea. This was the last thing she needed today. “No, I’m their daughter. Acting manager. Go ahead and look around, though I’m not a hundred percent sure they’re actually planning on selling.” If she had her way, that is. She just needed to keep up her small projects to spruce the place up so she could convince them when they got back.

  As Flip Larson and the “potential buyers,” aka vultures, looked around the lobby and poked their noses into the breakfast room, Kate debated whether to work on the awning or finish the lobby painting. Or maybe start planning updates on the cabin interiors? The options were still swirling around in her head like a carousel when McGee came pushing through the door.

  “Hey, Kate. Any news on that author? I’m supposed to be interviewing her soon.”

  Kate tossed a nervous McGee into the spinning in her head. Why was he nervous? “She’s here somewhere, McGee. Whatever Freddie said for your interview, I’m sure he’ll keep to his word.”

  McGee leaned over the top of the desk, inspecting the contents. He reached for the registry, but Kate snapped it closed. “Did he say that? Because he did promise me an exclusive.”

  “I can’t think of a reason he’d change his mind.”

  “No, yeah. I can’t either.” McGee nodded and turned away from her for a second, checking out Flip and friends as they left out the rear door. “Who are the suits?”

  Kate sniffed. She didn’t really want to talk about it. “Shouldn’t you be at this morning’s parade? Second one of the season, only ...” She looked at the big calendar on the office door. “Five Saturdays this month, so only three more parades this Harvest Festival. Shouldn’t you be there?”

  “I covered the last one, got Felicia to take pictures for this one. Are you sure Freddie didn’t say anything about my interview? I just want to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind.”

  Kate ignored the spinning in her head for a minute and focused on McGee. “Why would he change his mind, McGee? You’re acting paranoid, like he might have reason to ...” Possibilities popped up from the
muddle in her head. Was McGee responsible for leaking Brenda Lee’s story to the press? Did he start this mess? “You’re acting like you might have ...”

  McGee narrowed his eyes. “What do you know, Kate?”

  “What do I know? The question is, what do you know? And whatever it is, did you do something about it?”

  McGee started nodding his head, first short nods and then with more determination. He looked a little nutty. Reaching into a messenger bag strapped across his chest, he suddenly pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it at Kate’s chest. She stumbled back half a step but clutched it there, still watching McGee to see what else he was going to do.

  “Look at it.” McGee was rattled.

  Slowly, she pulled the page back so she could see it. Right away, she realized it was thicker than paper, and as she turned it over, she could see it was a picture. Wrinkled because of his rough treatment of it, but she could see the image clear as day. It was a picture of Brenda Lee—no, Kate as Brenda Lee—kissing Freddie by the barbecue two nights ago. “Oh, McGee.”

  “I know.” He nodded again with vigor. “I know.”

  This was it, then. He must have recognized that Kate had been dressed as Brenda Lee, done some digging and found out that the real author was chasing her gambling addict husband around Las Vegas, and leaked the story to the national press newswires. And McGee was her friend—kind of—so it was still like she was somehow involved in all this, like it was her fault, especially if Freddie thought they were in on it together. Maybe he thought they were talking about it at the dance last night ... no, laughing about it at the dance last night. He could have thought that.

  Wait, none of that made sense. The online articles hadn’t used this picture, and neither McGee nor the Harvest Ranch Times were mentioned in the stories she’d read that morning. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hold on. Tell me what this means.”

  McGee looked aghast that she didn’t understand. “Don’t you see?”

  “I thought I did, but now I’m thinking not.”

  “Brenda Lee Mitford is married.”

  “That’s true.” Did he think Brenda Lee was cheating on her husband with Freddie?

  He tapped the picture. “Don’t you see? They don’t want anyone to know, but Freddie is her husband.”

  Thoughts swirled in her head, faster now than a carousel, more like a flushing toilet bowl. “Sorry, what?”

  McGee took her free hand in both of his. What the actual heck ... “I know how you feel about him, Kate. You like him, maybe even have a crush on him. But he’ll never be yours. This is proof that he’s led you on.”

  That was what McGee thought this was? Relief seeped through her chest. Apparently, the press leak hadn’t come from him, anyway. Still, Kate stared at the photo, remembering that moment and that kiss. There in the courtyard she loved so much, next to the cornucopia fountain, she’d looked up at Freddie through those thick false eyelashes, fallen deeply into his sexy, kind, dark eyes, and he’d kissed her. She’d do anything to go back to that moment, even put on Brenda Lee’s wig and makeup again. “So, what are you planning on doing with this knowledge?”

  McGee flicked his hands in the air. “Nothing. It’s yours.”

  “What?” Kate gave him a questioning look, encouraging him to change his mind if he was fibbing. “You’re saying that McGee the intrepid reporter, the ambitious journalist and occasional morning editor, is giving up a story?”

  “I won’t do those kinds of stories, Kate, not ones that could hurt someone, especially one of my friends. Just last night, all of Harvest Ranch saw you canoodling with Freddie Prescott on the dance floor.”

  Kate bit her lip. “I wouldn’t say canoodling, exactly. And were people really watching? I mean, it was pretty packed in there.”

  “People saw, Kate. You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s not your fault he’s married and didn’t tell you.”

  Hm, a dilemma. Should she set him straight? Be the tricked and fallen woman, or tell McGee the truth? She couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Thanks, McGee. You’re a good friend for letting me know. And if you aren’t going to be using this picture, can I keep it?”

  He put his hands in his pockets, chest out. “It’s yours.”

  “Thank you, McGee. Truly.”

  “No problem. Besides, that’s not the kind of reporter I want to be, spreading gossip. When I print a story, I want people to stand up and notice for better reasons than that.”

  “You’re a good guy, McGee.”

  She remembered thinking that about Freddie, too, just a few days ago. A good guy, someone who liked her for herself. They had worked on this Brenda Lee Mitford charade together, and she’d come to think of him as someone she could trust. Turned out Freddie wasn’t any different from Steven, or any other guy she’d chosen for herself. He accused her of going behind his back, alerting the press. Eventually, he’d have to find out it wasn’t her who had done it, but what then? The way he looked at her, how quickly he’d suspected her ... Even when he knew the truth, this thing that had begun to bud between her and Freddie had been submarined, even if this time it wasn’t her doing it.

  Chapter 16

  With Brenda Lee settled in her cabin, surrounded by her wigs and makeup and Pumpkin, getting ready for her afternoon events and interview with McGee, Freddie wandered out into the courtyard. He’d spent the morning making phone calls and creating a strategic campaign to battle her publicity problems. Plans were in motion to spin things to their advantage, use the disaster to strengthen the brand. For the first time since the Vegas story hit the internet, he had time to think about something else.

  Or someone else. Kate had been in the back of his mind all morning, and it made him uneasy. He imagined she sat next to him while he made calls, weighed his chances at getting Brenda Lee through this. He imagined Kate’s brown eyes that smiled even as they turned downward at the corners, and the way her lips moved when she spoke and he couldn’t stop watching. Her quick, low-key sense of humor that always had more depth than he expected. The utter surprise she’d been in his life this past week. Was it really only a week since they’d met? Nine days. It felt like he’d always known her, or known he’d meet her someday. And now he’d made ugly accusations and pushed her away. How could he begin to apologize for this?

  He paced back and forth between the garden pots and fountain, wandered aimlessly between the cabins. He almost ventured in the lobby through the back door to see if she was at the desk, try to talk to her, but at the last second he veered left and headed to the alley. Why would she want to see him? It wasn’t like she’d throw something at him, but she’d look at him with sad, hurt eyes, and he wasn’t ready to face that. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

  In the alley, he wasn’t paying attention, and that same tree branch smacked him square in the middle of his forehead. “Ow!”

  He tossed some choice words at the branch, and when he’d exhausted those, he stopped and really looked at the tree for the first time. It grew on the other side of the narrow alley, a thick tree and possibly as old as the inn. Its branches spread out in all directions, reaching out to touch the building and extend over its roof. Golden-bronze leaves filled the branches and littered the ground. Not maple, he was certain, nor oak. Hickory, maybe? And from the heavy nuts weighting down the branches, any day now it would be a bumpy land mine on the ground to trip you up, as well as that treacherous low branch. Someone should trim this up.

  He smiled. If he mentioned it, Kate would put it in her Project Cornucopia notebook.

  And there was that door on the side of the building again. He’d noticed it from a distance that day at the fairgrounds, but until now he hadn’t looked at it close up. It was one of those doors that opened by halves, as if at one time something had been sold from there. Now it was all painted the same peach color as the rest of the building. He chuckled, imagining warm pumpkin cookies and hot apple cider sales from there, with some early owner of the Cornucopia smiling over the half
door, someone Swiss. Or maybe it would be Kate.

  Kate.

  Freddie kicked at the leaves on the ground and headed for the revolving doors. No more pacing around. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to see her.

  Swoosh. Strange to hear the sound without Pumpkin nearby to whine at it. He blinked, adjusting to the indoor light after the bright autumn sunshine. When he could see properly, Kate’s face peered at him over the desk like prey spying its hunter. Guilt hit his gut. “Hi, Kate.”

  “Hi,” she said. Cautiously friendly, like she hoped he wouldn’t say anything else mean but didn’t expect him not to. How could he fix this? “Decided to come in through the front doors this time?”

  “Uh ...” He realized she’d probably seen him out the rear glass doors, pacing through the grounds and almost coming in before veering around to the front. Why hadn’t he realized she’d be able to see him? Dumb. “Yeah, without pulling Pumpkin around on her leash, I can use the front door now.”

  She tapped at her forehead. “Looks like the tree got you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the sore spot. “I guess it made a mark.”

  An awkward silence spread over the empty lobby. He was relieved when Kate broke it. “I saw Brenda Lee when she arrived.”

  “Yes, she’s here.”

  “She looks very normal without her getup. And we are the same size, as you said.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” He hadn’t meant any reference to their bust sizes, but Kate rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest reminded him. Heat flushed up his neck. He steered the conversation to a safer place. “She’s really as normal as anybody, problems and all.”

  “What happened with the big story blowing up? You don’t look as upset as earlier.” A meaningful look passed between them. He knew she wouldn’t have meant it, but to Freddie it felt like a slap in the face. He’d been a jerk shooting off accusations, and Kate had gotten in his crosshairs.