The Bitterroot Inn

by Devney Perry

  That asshole. Well, he had that right.

  “It’s not a fun story.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time for you. If you want to tell me tonight, I’d like to know. If you want some time, I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

  I examined my wineglass as I considered my options. I could wait and tell Hunter about Everett when we knew each other better. Or I could tell him now. He’d been in Prescott nearly a month, and the more we were seen together at the café or around town, the more people would talk, the more risk I’d face that someone would feel the need to inform him of my past.

  And I didn’t want him to hear this story from anyone but me.

  “All right. I’ll give you the abbreviated version.” I sat up straight, tucking my legs underneath me and making room so Hunter could sit even closer.

  “Coby’s father’s name was Everett Carlson. He and I worked together at the hospital when I was a nurse. We started dating, and at first, everything was great. Then it wasn’t. We broke up, and then I found out I was pregnant. He asked me to get an abortion because he had no interest in being a father, but I refused.”

  Hunter’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth.

  “He decided to kidnap me because I wouldn’t get an abortion. He broke into my house and came after me in a rage. I tried to fight back, but he knocked me out.”

  Terrifying as it had been to have a crazed lunatic bust through my door and chase me around my living room, it hadn’t done near the emotional damage as what had happened in the hospital. Still, when I’d had the chance to move out of that place and into the inn’s loft, I’d jumped at the chance.

  “He kidnapped my friend Gigi too and took us both to the hospital. We learned that night he was a drug dealer and all-around psychopath.”

  Hunter’s hands were fisted on his thighs and his teeth were grinding.

  “Easy there. You’re going to chip a tooth.” My attempt to lighten the mood worked.

  Hunter’s jaw relaxed a bit as he sighed. “Okay, keep going.”

  “When I woke up, he tried to force-feed me a bunch of pills. Gigi fought him off, and since he’d forgotten to tie me up when I was unconscious, I was able to find a scalpel on one of the storage racks. It was still in its sterile wrapper but those things are really sharp. I rammed it into his neck and then we ran away. When the cops got there, Everett had already bled out.” I’d hit him right in the carotid.

  The silence of the next few moments was unbearable. Hunter was fuming, I could feel the heat waves radiating off his panting chest, but he didn’t speak. I wanted so badly for him to stay but I wouldn’t blame him if he left. My baggage could fill an aircraft carrier. I wouldn’t hold it against him if he wanted to find a woman who only traveled light.

  “Maisy.” My name was full of pain and pity. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. I’ve replayed that night a million times. I don’t think there was anything else I could have done, but still, I wish it had ended differently.”

  Hunter placed his hand on my knee. “You did what you had to do.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t make the fears go away.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What fears?”

  “I fear the day Coby asks me about his father,” I whispered. “What am I going to tell him? The truth? That I killed his father because the alternative was a forced overdose that would probably have killed us both?” I shook my head. “I can’t tell him the truth, but I’ll have to. This town is too small to keep secrets.”

  “When the time comes, you’ll know what to say,” Hunter said gently.

  “I hope you’re right.” Since I was on a roll with my confession, I kept going. “Do you want to know what scares me even more? That people will talk about Everett and somehow Coby will bear the burdens of a man he never knew. And I won’t be enough to shield him from everything. I won’t be a good enough mother.”

  My throat closed and tears pricked my eyes. No one—not Gigi, not my brothers, not my mom—knew how terrified I was of making huge mistakes in Coby’s life. No one knew how scared I was that Coby would suffer because I’d chosen a criminal for his biological father.

  But Hunter got it all.

  Now he knew exactly what he was getting if he chose to stay.

  Taking the wine from my hand, Hunter set it aside and scooted closer. With one arm around my shoulders, he pulled me into his side. “You can’t think like that, baby. If you can’t see how wonderful of a mother you are to that little boy, I’ll tell you every day. You are enough.”

  I leaned back, blinking the threat of tears away. “You called me ‘baby,’ ” I blurted.

  In the whole string of shining sentences that Hunter had just delivered, that one word stuck out as the brightest.

  He grinned and pulled me tighter into his side. “Yes, I did.”

  “I liked it,” I whispered.

  He leaned down to smell my hair. “Good to know.”

  I untucked my legs and settled my head into his shoulder. With his hand gently tracing circles on my arm, his smell and warmth surrounding me completely, I drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, I woke up alone. Still in my dress, I sat up and found a sticky note on my nightstand.

  You are enough.

  I will take him from you.

  My eyes popped open, but otherwise, I didn’t move. I lay stiffly, staring at the nightstand as my heart pounded and Everett’s threat echoed in my mind. The clarity of his voice terrified me more than his words. It was like he’d been standing right above me, bending to speak in my ear, instead of just an imaginary figment of a dream.

  I stayed still for minutes trying to block out his voice, and when the shock of the nightmare slowly passed, I flipped off my covers and sat up on the edge of my bed. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths and listened to the silence in the room.

  Everett is dead.

  I killed him and he will never, ever take my son.

  It was just a dream.

  When my heart rate was back to normal, I stood up and rubbed my hands over my face. “Well . . . that was new,” I muttered to my dark room. Between my flashes when I was awake and Everett’s voice now visiting my sleep, I really was losing my mind.

  Reaching for my phone, I unplugged it and checked the time: 1:46 a.m.

  There was no way I’d get back to sleep, not after that dream, which meant I was going to be exhausted tomorrow.

  I opened the locked screen and saw that I had two new Facebook notifications and one missed call alert three hours ago from Unknown. I frowned and cleared the red dot on my phone app.

  I’d been getting Unknown’s phone calls at least once a day ever since the first call, and I’d become an expert at declining calls before they rang more than once.

  Whatever. This flipping reporter could call all she wanted because I wasn’t giving in.

  Plugging my phone back in, I went to my closet for a sweater to pull over my tank top and sleep shorts. Then I went to the kitchen, flicking on lights as I went to make a pot of coffee. With a steaming mug in hand, I stood in the living room and assessed my loft.

  Sleepless nights meant remodeling, but with my motel projects done, I could finally start on my own home. The ideas I’d been sketching and dreaming about for years were going to come to life.

  And Coby’s room was up first.

  Mom and Dad had requested a grandson sleepover after Mom’s Wednesday-night dinner so Coby was at their house tonight. It had been two weeks since Beau and Sabrina’s wedding and now that the craziness was over, they wanted some quality time with Coby. Pickle was there too so he could start his puppy training with Dad first thing in the morning.

  With the loft to myself and some hustle, I could have Coby’s room tarped and the ceiling painted before I needed to get to work. Then tomorrow, I could juggle my schedule a bit to paint the walls while he was at daycare.

  He was g
oing to be so excited. I couldn’t wait to see Coby’s face when he came home to blue walls, and just thinking about his smile gave me one.

  Coby’s room was going to have an antique car theme. Because Dad loved antique cars, he’d turned Coby on to them too. My son wanted nothing more than to be like his gramps and the two of them had been collecting old license plates lately. I’d been stashing them in my closet to hang on the walls as decorations. Those, along with the bunk bed Beau was going to build Coby, would make this place my son’s little sanctuary. He’d have steps in lieu of a ladder to his bed and a play space underneath the bed with shelves for his books and toys.

  It was going to be awesome, and the prospect of diving in gave me a second wind. Who needed sleep? Not this girl. She was going to paint.

  Slugging back more coffee, I set down my cup and went downstairs to my office for supplies. Since Hunter was staying in the housekeeper’s room, my office had now become my renovation supply closet.

  With drop cloths, rollers and ceiling paint in hand, I carted it all upstairs. Then I came back down for my ladder. Coby’s bed and dresser got pushed to the middle of the room. His toy baskets and beanbag chair got tossed on top of the pile. Then I covered the heap in plastic.

  I went back to the kitchen and swallowed a few big gulps of my cold coffee before propping open the outside door and opening all the windows. Stripping off my sweater, I went back to Coby’s room and filled my paint tray. I set the ladder up as close to the middle of the room as I could manage and climbed up. Balancing the paint tray in one hand and my coated roller in the other, I let the back and forth motion soothe my stresses away.

  Painting had become my favorite coping mechanism.

  I’d thrown myself so completely into fixing up this building it had allowed me to bury my troubles. How was I going to deal with the flashes, strange dreams and sleepless nights when my renovation projects were done? Once the loft was remodeled, I’d be out of wall space to recolor.

  I needed to find a new distraction.

  Maybe I’d take up reading. All my friends were avid readers—Sabrina was even an author—but I’d never had a passion for the pastime. The idea was appealing though. I could escape Everett by disappearing into a book.

  I’d be willing to give it a shot, but thankfully right now, I still had my painting.

  I coated my roller again and stepped up another rung on the ladder so I could stretch and hit the space above Coby’s tarped bed. I was extended to the near-tipping point when a deep voice filled the room.

  “What are you doing?” Hunter boomed.

  “Ahh!” I screamed as my muscles jerked violently. The sudden movement caused my ladder to rock onto two legs and tip to the side, sending me flailing backward with my paint tray and roller still in hand. But before I could crash onto the floor, Hunter caught me at the waist.

  He also caught my paint.

  My tray flew up, tilting in slow motion as it turned over and coated us both in sticky white.

  “Fuck,” Hunter cursed as he steadied me.

  My heart still racing, I spun around and pointed the roller toward his face, sending paint splatters everywhere. “You scared me! Again! What are you even doing here?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m up here making sure you’re okay. I heard a bunch of noise from my room. Remember? The one right down there?” He pointed to the floor. “Then I came up here and found your door wide open. What the hell? Anyone could have come in here. You keep that shit locked at night, Maisy. I don’t give a fuck if you’re painting. The door stays closed!”

  “Oh, no you don’t! You don’t get to be mad at me. This is all on you.” I used my roller to wildly showcase the disaster that was our mess. “Quit. Scaring. Me!”

  We glared at each other while our chests puffed up and down. Slowly, the scowl on Hunter’s handsome face turned up into a grin. The white of his teeth matched the paint all over his chest. I was still glaring up at him when he looked down at his ruined shirt, shook his head, then roared with laughter.

  Hunter’s unfettered laugh in his smooth tenor voice sent tingles rippling across my skin. His Adam’s apple was more pronounced when he laughed. And sexy. Damn sexy. I was just as obsessed with getting my tongue on that bump as ever.

  I couldn’t hold my glare with his gorgeous smile so close. Giggles bubbled in my chest, and within seconds, I was laughing hysterically too. The sound of our combined laughter filled my loft, echoing off the walls in Coby’s tiny room.

  I was laughing so hard, the roller slipped out of my hand and crashed onto my bare toes, only making me laugh harder. For the first time in months, I laughed like I didn’t have a worry in the world, just like Coby did when I tickled him.

  I laughed like a happy woman.

  A happy woman covered in paint.

  Finally getting myself under control, I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Is it your life’s goal to scare me to death?”

  “No.” He used his thumb to wipe a paint drop off my cheek. “My life’s goal is to keep that smile on your face.”

  I opened my mouth but closed it before speaking.

  Heavens above.

  He hadn’t even kissed me yet but I was totally falling for this man. I was falling for the way he made me feel precious. For how he saw the best in me, especially when I didn’t see it myself. For how beautiful I felt when he was around, even in bed hair and wrinkled old pajamas and paint.

  “You’re blushing, Blondie,” he whispered and stepped closer.

  My breath hitched and the flush in my cheeks got hotter. My chin tipped up so I could keep a hold of his eyes. The brown was darker tonight, not their normal caramel, but more like milk chocolate. Even in the dim light, I could see the flecks of cinnamon near their centers.

  “How determined are you to finish this painting tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t, um . . . huh?”

  His hand came up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I really want to kiss you but it’s going to take a while. If you’re set on painting, then we’ll do that instead.”

  I swallowed hard. “Kiss.”

  The second the word left my mouth, his came crashing down. The soft heat from his lips melted mine open so his tongue could sweep inside. Hunter’s arms wrapped around my back, pulling me tight and the paint on our clothes glued us together. Fisting the material of his T-shirt on his back, I held on as he plundered my mouth.

  His tongue worked so smoothly against mine, stroking and exploring, that when he nipped my bottom lip, I gasped. Hunter grinned against my lips, then did it again, this time sending a pulse right to my center. We kissed for what felt like hours, standing locked together, until the paint on my fingers started to crack. When we finally broke apart, my lips were wonderfully swollen and I was desperate to fill my lungs with air.

  “Hunter,” I moaned on an inhale as his kisses trailed across my cheek and over to my ear.

  “What do you want, Maisy?” His question was hoarse and rough, the vibration just making the ache in my core even stronger.

  “You. I want you.” I dropped his shirt in my hands and trailed my palms down to his firm ass, giving it a hard squeeze.

  He growled in my ear, pressing his erection against my hip, then bit the sensitive spot behind the hinge of my jaw. The sting made the throbbing between my legs nearly unbearable.

  My hands left his ass and came to the hem of my sticky tank. I leaned back to yank it up my torso but Hunter’s hands came down on mine. “Let me.”

  I dropped the sticky cotton and let him take the hem. With one fast tug, I was naked from the waist up. My nipples were already pebbled from our kiss, but the cool air drifting in from the windows made them prickle. Hunter’s large hands cupped both of my breasts, squeezing the soft, small curves as he dragged his thumbs across my nipples.

  “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

  I obeyed, shuddering as he kept at my breasts. With every squeeze, every tug, every roll, the throbbing
at my core intensified until I was dizzy. When one of his hands ran down my stomach and into the waistband of my shorts, I knew he’d find me wet.

  His fingers slipped between my folds, circling my entrance and bringing the wetness up to my clit. When he gave my bud two flicks, I nearly collapsed. Hunter’s other arm abandoned my breast and banded around my back, holding me up as his long and talented middle finger continued dipping in and out.

  My head fell back, my neck limp, when his mouth closed over my nipple. “Hunter,” I gasped. His teeth nipped, then sucked hard and my pussy clenched once around his finger. I felt his smile on my skin before he slid two fingers inside and hooked them to hit the right spot.

  “Oh my god.” My legs gave out completely and his mouth broke away from my nipple so he could stand tall and keep me from falling into the paint-covered plastic.

  “I’ve got you, baby.”

  I forced my eyes open and found my feet. “Bed. Let’s go to my bed.”

  He nodded, and when his fingers slipped out of me, I squeaked. A grin spread over Hunter’s face before he took a step back. Reaching behind his neck, he yanked his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  At the sight of his bare chest, my mouth fell open.

  Clothes did not do his body justice. Not even close. His broad shoulders were wrapped in sinewy muscle. His abs and narrow hipbones formed that perfect V. His washboard stomach was so defined I could run my paint roller over the top and miss all the grooves that separated the squares.

  “Your feet are soaked,” he said.

  “What?” I blinked, breaking eye contact with Hunter’s chest to look down. White paint was pooling between my toes from the roller I’d dropped on them earlier.

  Before I could bend down to wipe them off, Hunter dropped to his knees. Using his own gray T-shirt, he carefully cleaned my feet. When they were no longer coated, just lightly smeared with white, he looked up.

  I was a goner.

  Those eyes. That soft and loving look behind his dark lashes. I was totally flipping gone for this man.