by Stacy Finz
“What’s he saying?” He tugged her close so she could lean into him. Oddly, the intimacy of that gesture felt incredibly natural and she burrowed in deep.
“I haven’t been taking his calls, but he’s refusing to sign the papers.” Maddy closed her eyes and without realizing it she’d nestled her head against Rhys’s shoulder.
“I feel so stupid,” she continued. “I thought we had this amazing life together—that my husband wouldn’t even look at another woman, let alone cheat on me. My own parents have been married for nearly forty years. That’s what I thought it would be like for Dave and me. Now I wonder if I deluded myself into only seeing what I wanted to see. You ever feel that way?”
“I have,” he said, surprising her. “Not with someone I loved, but on the job all the time. I think it’s natural to want to believe the best in people. And when they let you down, you wind up blaming yourself for being gullible. But this is on him, Maddy, not you.”
“Poor Max. I wonder if he knew, or if he was as much in the dark as I was.”
Rhys shrugged. “So he died, huh?”
She nodded sadly. “From a blood clot in his brain. He was a wonderful man. I think part of the reason Dave’s been trying to work it out with me is to make up for his betrayal of Max. He really did love him.”
“Yeah, that’s some kind of love,” Rhys said, and Maddy was struck by how contemptuous he sounded.
“The fact is,” she said, “Gabby fits the Wellmont mold a million times more than I ever will.”
Rhys went back to holding her, and his arms felt warm and solid. His thighs hard and strong. The scent of his shampoo and aftershave—something woodsy like pine needles—made her want to bury her face in the crook of his neck.
He slowly rocked the glider with his right leg. “Maddy, I don’t know what the Wellmont mold is. What I do know is that you’re clever and you’re funny and you’re beautiful . . . Look what you’ve accomplished in the short time you’ve been here. Most people would’ve written off the Lumber Baron as a scrape. When you’re done with it it’ll be the pride of Nugget.
“From where I’m standing this Gabriella woman wasn’t your problem. If your husband couldn’t see what I see . . . Well, he doesn’t deserve you.”
She pressed her face against his shoulder and mumbled, “You might not say that if you’d ever seen Gabriella.”
He gently lifted her onto his lap, his soft lips just inches away from her ear. “I don’t need to. I’ve seen you.”
Maddy looked at him with such wonder in her eyes that it mesmerized him. He bent his head, gently brushing her lips with his. The kiss started innocently enough. But when she wrapped her arms around his neck, her full breasts pressing against his chest and her rear end pushing against his groin, he was lost. He sank his mouth over hers, pulling her firmly against him. His hands roamed over her back and shoulders and his tongue slid inside her mouth.
She opened for him, tentatively at first, but then he felt her breath catch. “Ohhh,” she whimpered, and he could feel himself growing so hard that he was straining against his fly.
He cradled her head and took the kiss deeper, maybe even a little rough. But the sweet taste of her made him crazy. Hungry. She pushed against his erection, clinging to him, filling him with heat and yearning. Rhys cupped her ass, pulling her tighter so she could feel the full length of him.
“We should stop,” she said, but kept kissing him.
“Let’s go inside the trailer,” he whispered, a little breathless.
“Bad idea,” she groaned against his mouth.
“Ah sugar, let me make you forget about Dave.” It was a bullshit line, but she felt so damn good. God, he wanted her.
“Oh, Rhys, we need to stop.” But he could feel her resolve weakening and was pretty sure that if he carried her into the fifth wheel he’d get her clothes off in no time flat.
It took everything he had, but Rhys slowly released her. He lifted her off his lap. “You okay?”
She nodded.
He waited for her to find her equilibrium. Feeling slightly unbalanced himself, he said, “I better get going.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Maddy grabbed her purse off the porch and took off for the stairs like someone had set her on fire.
“Hey, hang on a second.” Rhys caught up to her. God, he’d acted like a horny high school kid. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of your situation. That was a jerk move. I’m sorry, Maddy.”
He turned to walk away when she called, “Rhys?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Maddy was still light-headed when she arrived at the inn. No one had ever kissed her like Rhys had.
No one. Ever.
Colin waved to her from the new veranda, shaking her out of her stupor. The crew, following the adage of making hay while the sun shined, worked on the exterior of the house. On the days it snowed, they would move the whole team inside to focus on her innkeeper’s quarters. Still, there were a few guys in the bathrooms, working on toilets, sinks, and tubs.
Maddy poked her head into the powder room on the main floor. Since the demolition, the place had undergone a dramatic change. Other than the equipment, lumber, and tools that now cluttered the property, the garbage had been toted away, the graffiti sanded off the doors, and the horrific fencing removed.
The decking on the porch and its railings had been repaired and looked sturdy enough to hold a platoon. Maddy envisioned overhead fans, wicker furniture, and giant potted ferns—a place where guests could enjoy a cold glass of lemonade on a warm day and watch the town go by.
She looked at her watch. In a few minutes she had an appointment with a representative from a linen distributor. Somehow, Nate had sweet-talked the guy into driving all the way from the Bay Area to Nugget so he could meet her on-site with samples.
While she waited, the constant drum of hammering lulled her back into thinking about that kiss. And Rhys. And what it would’ve been like if she had met him first. Before Dave. The two men were so different—suave Dave and rough Rhys. But there was also a gentleness and a kindness in Rhys.
She wondered whether he’d ever been married and found it odd that she’d never thought to ask. A guy that good-looking wouldn’t stay single for long.
Dave took good care of himself, worked out five days a week with a personal trainer. But he had nothing on Rhys, who could crush him like a tin can.
Ah, Dave. She’d thought he’d hung the moon, bowling her over with his lavish attention. She’d been barely twenty-five and managing the reservation desk at the Wellmont. He’d pop by on his way up to the corporate offices to flirt, bringing her silly souvenirs—Fisherman’s Wharf snow globes, cable car Christmas ornaments, Alcatraz visors—from the gift shop. She’d been incredibly flattered and a little starstruck. Ultimately she bonded with him over the one thing they had in common—the hotel business. But after the first miscarriage, he’d convinced her to put off coming back to the Wellmont indefinitely.
“The hours are long, Mad. I don’t want to be one of those couples racing around, always trying to get ahead. I want us to spend time together. Quality time,” he’d told her. “Plus, I want us to try as soon as we can to get pregnant again.”
Looking back on it now, he seemed almost desperate, making her wonder if after she’d failed to keep him away from Gabriella, Dave thought a baby might help him find his conscience.
Ironically, it had been the times they spent with Max and Gabby that had been the best. Max, a gregarious winemaker, would pop a cork on one of his famous Napa Cabernet Sauvignons, pour her a glass, and they’d spend the next hour pretending to be wine critics.
Max would swirl his goblet, stick his nose into the bowl, and take a big whiff. “I’m getting hints of horseshit. How ’bout you?”
Maddy, who knew nothing about wine, would swirl, sniff, and sip and in her most pompous voice say, “No, I believe that’s bat guano with a horseshit finish.”
They’d go on like tha
t until they were sloshed, rolling on the floor laughing.
Max had been the only Wellmont who’d ever made her feel part of the family. It still plagued her whether he knew about Dave and Gabby—about their weekend trysts when the four of them were together at Max’s vineyard. Or had Max been as clueless as she had?
Maddy checked her watch again. Not surprising the linen guy was late. People often miscalculated how long it took to get to Nugget from the city.
“It’s looking good.” Pam strolled over, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she stared up at the gable Colin painstakingly tacked to the roof peak.
“As long as this weather holds we’ll make the deadline,” Maddy said.
“When’s that?”
“Summer.” When she saw Pam’s eyes grow wide, she said, “Ambitious, I know. But that’s Nate. He wants this Victorian lady earning her keep. We’re keeping crews on seven days a week.”
Pam cringed. “I didn’t want to tell you this until I knew how serious it was. But word on the street is there’s a petition circulating to shut you down.”
“What?” Maddy knew people here weren’t happy with the noise and mess from the construction, but this news knocked her for a loop. “On what grounds?”
“Apparently, Sandy and Cal Addison have a bug up their butt that the Lumber Baron is going to tax Nugget’s antiquated sewage system. They’re trying to get your lodging permits pulled and want to bring it before the city council at the next meeting.”
Dumbfounded, Maddy asked, “Can they do that . . . pull permits that they’ve already issued? I mean, if the city thought it had a sewage problem it shouldn’t have agreed to let us put in a twenty-room hotel. We never would’ve bought the place without the lodging permit. This is crazy. What kind of city does something like this?
“Jeez,” Maddy continued. “I should’ve paid better attention when those Addisons hinted at something like this at the Halloween festival. But Nate wrote them off as nut jobs. You know how much money we’ve already poured into this place?”
“I’m so sorry, Maddy,” Pam said. “I didn’t want to tell you, but unfortunately they do have political juice around here. They sponsor a lot of city-run programs and the council members kowtow to them. Two years ago they granted Buzz Henderson a commercial ordinance to sell Christmas trees on his property right off the highway. The Addisons bitched and moaned that it was causing traffic backups, and, sure enough, the city rescinded the ordinance. And quite frankly, this town has always been resistant to change. I thought there would be a war over the Sierra Heights development.
“Look.” Pam squeezed Maddy’s hand. “This whole ploy may backfire on them. But in the meantime, I’d talk to Bud Coleman over at the Nugget Wastewater Treatment Plant and find out what the city’s sewage capacity is and where it’s at right now.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Maddy said and headed for her car, shouting to Colin to stall the linen rep until she got back.
“What?” Pam called.
“I’m going over to the Beary Quaint and talk some sense into those people.”
“I wouldn’t do that, if—”
The sound of Maddy’s engine drowned out the rest of whatever Pam had to say. The motor lodge was only about ten minutes on Highway 70 from downtown Nugget. On her way, she texted her brother, then pulled into the Beary Quaint parking lot.
Eww, Nate wasn’t kidding. There were chain-saw bears everywhere—the entrance, the yard, the walkways. Creepy. Like the bear version of a Chucky doll.
It was a shame, really. If they hadn’t tchotchked up the place, it wouldn’t be half bad. The eighteen motel rooms were designed to resemble mini log cabins. The office—a chalet. Kitschy, but cute.
Just a few yards off the highway flashed a neon sign of a bear sleeping in a sleigh bed. “Vacancies,” it read.
“We’re booked solid,” Maddy mimicked.
The sign was vintage 1920s and was worth a good amount of money. It was the first thing she planned to smash, if the Addisons didn’t see reason.
Maddy didn’t bother to wait for Nate to text back, since she knew what he’d say anyway. “Call our lawyer.”
But why get billed hours when they could work this out like sensible business people, she thought as she marched up to the Beary Quaint’s entrance.
Maddy spied Sandy behind the glass doors and caught her eye. See, Maddy thought to herself, patting down her hair, the woman is coming outside to have a rational conversation. Two hoteliers hashing it out like adults.
Wait a minute, was Sandy dead-bolting the door?
“Sandy,” Maddy called through the glass. “Could we please talk.”
No answer.
Maddy pulled the knob and banged on the window. “Oh, for God’s sake, I just want to talk to you.”
“Get off my property, or I’ll call the cops,” Sandy’s muffled voice came through the door.
“Seriously, Sandy? Is this how you want to play this? At least send Cal out if you’re so afraid of me.”
“I’m not going to tell you again,” Sandy yelled. “Get off my property!”
“Fine,” Maddy shouted, pretending to head for her car. When she got to the corner of the building she raced around the office, searching for the back door before Sandy could dead-bolt it.
Too late.
“Sandy, come on.” Maddy pounded on the slider.
Sandy made a big show of picking up the phone and dialing. Very well. Maddy would just wait her out. She walked back to the front of the motel and sat on a bear-carved bench.
“You can’t stay inside forever,” she muttered, swinging her legs, studying the intricacy of the burl wood’s design.
Ten minutes later, Rhys pulled up in his police truck. Crazy Town had actually called the fuzz, Maddy couldn’t freakin’ believe it.
“Hey.” He did his chin bob thing as he sauntered down the walkway in his mirrored aviators. It was a good look for him.
“Hey,” she said back.
“Let’s go.”
“What, you’re arresting me? On what grounds?”
“I’m not arresting you. But this is private property and the owner wants you vacated.”
“Well, what if I want to book a room?”
The corner of his mouth curved up ever so slightly. “Come on, sugar, let’s go.”
“I don’t want to go. I want that yellow-bellied coward of a woman to come out here and talk to me. And I want you to stop calling me sugar.”
“What you really don’t want,” he said tightly, “is Sandy Addison getting a restraining order against you, telling everyone and his brother that you tried to attack her. It doesn’t look professional, you know what I mean? So get in the car and drive away. Come on, I’ll follow you out.”
“Attack her . . . I barely even talked to the woman. I can’t believe you’re taking her side.” Maddy stood up and wiped the back of her pants.
“What are you, ten?” He lowered his voice. “I’m trying to mitigate the damage you’ve done here. Now get your goddamn ass in the car.”
“Fine.”
She’d managed to drive two miles before he lit her up, forcing her to pull into a circular turnout on the side of the road. He got out of his truck and motioned for her to unlock her passenger door, then slid in.
“What did I do now?”
“Stop with the drama, would you? What you did back there was unbelievably stupid.”
“All I did was go over there to reason with her. You don’t even know what’s going on.”
“The Addisons are trying to petition the city to revoke your permits on the grounds that Nugget’s waste system can’t handle the extra sewage.”
She glared at him. “How long have you known?”
“I found out twenty minutes ago when you decided to make your house call.”
“Rhys,” she said. “They’re trying to put the Lumber Baron out of business. Every dime I have is invested in that inn.”
He all but rolled
his eyes.
“Oh, you think because my soon-to-be ex is wealthy that means I’m Mrs. Money Bags? Well, you don’t know a damn thing about it. Now get out of my car, I need to meet the linen rep.” She was on the verge of losing it and she wanted to do it in private.
“Maddy, you can win this thing. You just have to go about it the right way. Your first move should be calling a very good lawyer—”
“Oh, my God, why didn’t I think of that?”
He threw up his arms. “Whatever, Maddy. Try to stay out of trouble.” He slammed her car door shut, got into his truck, and drove away.
She just sat there with the weight of her inn’s future on her shoulders, wondering what it would’ve been like if he’d kissed her again.
Chapter 11
The following days turned much colder and the snow began to pile up faster than the plows could clear it. Rhys paced in front of the plate-glass window of the police station.
They said when temperatures dipped like this, people stayed home—made babies. Then why, he wondered, did crime rates soar during extreme weather? He still wasn’t any closer to catching the people who’d stowed their chemicals and equipment in Maddy’s basement.
Rhys continued to wear a hole in the floor. Back and forth in front of that plate-glass window.
“You’re a worrywart, Chief,” Connie teased as she made a fresh pot of coffee. “Those warm Houston winters made you soft.”
No. It was just too damn quiet. “You ever hear of the calm before the storm?”
Jake came in, jangling the bell over the front door, and brushed the snow off his jacket. “Holy hell, it’s cold out there.” He rubbed his hands together.
“Coffee’s on,” Connie told him. “And Tater brought over some sweet rolls this morning.”
Jake held up a Bun Boy bag wet from either grease or weather, Rhys couldn’t tell. “Got some chili and fries. But coffee never sounded better.” He went over to the machine and poured himself a mug.
“Wife number two called,” Connie said. “Janny needs a new clutch.”
“Janny can take the bus,” Jake mumbled. When Rhys and Connie exchanged amused glances, he added, “Who needs a car at college? She lives in a sorority house five minutes off campus, for Christ’s sake.”
