When he caught her looking, she turned away, pretending an interest in Asheville’s sights. But after a moment, she didn’t have to pretend.
Elle had grown up in a suburb of Raleigh, then moved to Chapel Hill for college and stayed there after graduating, but this wasn’t her first time in Asheville. Her parents had taken the family on summer vacations to the mountains where it was cooler. It had been years since she'd been back, and now she wondered why she hadn't visited sooner.
Asheville might be a city, but it was quieter than Raleigh and much, much smaller. More intimate. There were trees and green spaces tucked into corners and along streets. People nodded as they passed on the sidewalks. Shop windows were lit and the windows dressed to impress.
On their way to the restaurant, Elle avoided conversation by studying the storefronts. They passed a cupcake shop (Elle made a silent promise to return after the wedding), a closed café, and a bookstore that made her wish she was alone with hours to spend getting lost in the stacks.
They arrived at the restaurant, a pizza place with tall windows facing the street and a bright glow. Inside, it was crowded and smelled of melted cheese and tomato sauce. If there were a heaven, Elle was quite certain it would smell exactly the same.
The restaurant attracted the kind of clientele that would make her mother wrinkle her nose. Men wore flannel shirts like Justin's, and women dressed down in jeans. Elle fit right in with her denim cutoffs and loose tank top (although her bedraggled appearance drew some curious glances). Tables were crowded together and covered with plastic tablecloths, and a live bluegrass band composed of men with bushy beards and flannel shirts took up a corner at the front of the restaurant. People raised their voices to be heard over the music, and the entire place hummed with life.
Justin checked with the hostess and they headed to the bar, taking two stools. It was the kind of place where they served food at the bar, and Elle was grateful. Even in the noisy, boisterous atmosphere, a table seemed too intimate.
She decided to make the most of the moment.
“Let me buy you dinner,” she said. “We can share a pizza.”
He gave her a look. “That’s nice of you.”
“I can be nice,” she said.
He didn’t look as though he believed her, so she ignored him and studied her menu.
“The special with arugula and goat cheese looks good,” she said, almost forgetting who she was with—because goat cheese could do that to a woman.
“Yeah, I’m getting pizza, not a salad,” Justin said. “Meat lovers for me.”
She sighed. “Fine. Let’s get half and half. How about a medium pizza.”
He grunted.
“Oh, what now?”
“A medium is fine. As long as you’re not eating any of it.”
She threw up her hands. “Whatever. Let’s just order before I eat the menu.”
They ordered, and after their drinks arrived, Justin tipped his pint glass to her wine glass.
"To strangers," he said. He watched her, as though trying to gauge her mood.
She clinked her glass to his. "To strangers."
They shared a smile. His smile was a simple thing, a crinkle, a tug at the corner of his lips, but for some reason, it made her warm from her head to her toes.
She was sitting in a place where no one knew her, with a man who was—she had to admit—easy on the eyes, and she was about to stuff her face with food that smelled like heaven and cheese. Things were looking up.
For a moment, Elle let herself relax.
A shrill voice made her jump. "Elle!"
She spun on her stool, preparing for the worst, and saw one of her sister's friends weaving her way to the bar. Before the woman could reach them, Elle scooted her stool further from Justin. She turned, but not before catching his expression, which looked surprisingly similar to disappointment.
"Elle! Oh. My. God. I haven't seen you in ages! Bless your heart, you look just the same as you did in high school. But why are you so wet? I hate to say it, but you look a mess!” Becky Lee twisted her face into a dramatic expression of surprise and horror, then asked, “How are you?" in a high, sugary-sweet, talk-to-crazy-people voice that made Elle want to throw things. But not her pizza. Or wine. Because she needed those.
"Becky Lee, hello," Elle said as Becky Lee wrapped her arms around Elle for a sharp hug.
Becky Lee was one of Lucy's oldest friends, although Elle wasn’t sure if her sister had ever actually liked Becky Lee. In fact, she could remember Lucy asking Caroline to please stop inviting Becky Lee to things without her permission after Becky Lee made another girl cry at one of Lucy’s birthday parties.
But Caroline wouldn’t hear of it; Becky Lee was good people. Her mother belonged to all the societies Caroline belonged to, and they’d been fast friends for years. So Becky Lee stayed. Even though she was the female version of one of those spiders who ate their mates—in addition to anyone else who pissed them off.
Tonight Becky Lee wore pearls over a wrapped floral print dress, a dress that likely cost more than Elle's entire wardrobe. To say she stuck out like a fox in the pigpen would be putting it mildly.
"Your mother would die to know you were here," Becky Lee said, raising her voice to be heard. "Did y'all just get in for the wedding?"
"I did, yes. I came in early to do a little sightseeing."
"Ooh, with your date? You poor thing," she said, shaking her head. She didn't lower her voice but leaned in as though she were being circumspect. "I heard about your difficulty in catching a man."
Next to her, Justin coughed.
"But good on you for letting your momma set you up. You sweet thing. And with such a catch, too. Now I know she must be so pleased he's coming with you to the wedding. Where is he?" Becky Lee craned her neck around, trying to spot a gentleman amidst the riff-raff.
Elle glanced quickly to Justin, who must have recovered from whatever had caught in his throat—his ego, perhaps?—and had moved to silent laughter.
Jerk.
"He's in the bathroom right now," she lied. "But you'll meet him soon."
Becky Lee played at pouting. "Shoot. I was hoping I'd get to meet him." She checked her watch, a shiny Cartier.
"Well, I have to run. I was only here to drop off information about a little charity fundraiser I'm organizing. This place might look like ... well, you know. It's not polite to say. But you'd never guess how much money the owner gives to charity." She glanced at Justin, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "Watch yourself, though, sugar. Unsavory types hang out here if you know what I mean. Keep an eye on your pocketbook, okay?" She gave a delicate shudder. "Well, talk soon. I'll see you for the wedding festivities!"
Becky Lee hugged Elle again before hurrying away, stepping around tables as though they were cowpats.
Elle turned back to the bar. She studied her drink.
"Go ahead," she said.
"Go ahead with what?" Justin asked, all innocence.
"Say it."
"Hey now," Justin said. "I might be an unsavory type. Are you sure you want to talk to me?"
She glanced at him. He leaned over the bar, his forearms—and those tattoos—on full display.
"I guess I deserve that."
He lifted his eyebrows.
Elle tidied her napkin. "I just didn't want her to get the wrong idea."
"That's harsh," he said, chuckling.
"Yes, well, you don't know my family."
"She was family?"
She shook her head. "Just a friend, but she knows my family."
"Yeah, I get it. Like I said, you're a snob."
Elle huffed. "Can you stop saying that? Becky Lee would tell my sister if she saw me with someone like, well, you, then my mother would find out, and then she'd know I ditched Cater, and then—"
"What? What's the worst thing that would happen?"
"She'd disown me."
He scoffed. "Yeah. Right."
"You don't know my mother."
<
br /> "Okay. Sure. Maybe your mother is Darth Vader and Vlad the Impaler rolled in one. Great. All I know is that it's pathetic to see a grown woman who cares so much about what other people think."
Elle turned back to her wine glass, trying to hide how much his words stung. "Because you're such an expert at being a grown up?"
"I don’t—“ Justin shook his head. "You know what? Not worth it."
"No, what? Don’t hold back now. You’re on a roll.”
He took a sip of his beer. "Doesn't matter."
She huffed again and took a sip of wine, silently fuming. The man was obnoxious. Infuriating. She didn't have to put up with him.
Except ... she kind of did. Elle had put down a deposit on her rooms at Oak Bramble. Money she couldn't afford to lose. More, she wasn't certain she'd even be able to find another inn with availability on such short notice. Or another ride.
You can do this. Just ignore the annoying man with his annoying man opinions. And DO NOT think about how sexy he is—but speaking of ... does he practice leaning on a bar? Do guys do that? Because he is looking fiiiiine. No! Stay focused.
The pizza arrived. Saving her in more ways than one.
Elle inhaled the scent of rich, hot tomato sauce and gooey cheese. The smell alone made her want to make peace. No one should be unhappy while eating pizza.
"Can we have a truce?" she asked. "I get that you think I'm a snob—"
"And you think I'm an unsavory character,” he interrupted. "Oh, and a tattooed country boy. Isn't that right?"
She took a deep breath. "We have our differences, but I do appreciate that you stopped for dinner. I’m paying, remember?”
"Oh, you're definitely gonna pay."
There was a note in a voice. One that wasn't meant for polite company. He seemed to catch it just as she did, and turned back to his beer like it held all the answers in the universe.
Something twisted in her belly. She wanted it to be dislike. Or even annoyance. But could it be ... anticipation?
Elle pushed away the thought as quickly as it came.
Elle woke when Justin pulled off the country highway and onto a long gravel drive. She hadn't meant to sleep, but the long day and big dinner had left her feeling drained. Outside the car window was a deep darkness unbroken by street lamps. Trees crowded the road, arching over like a trellis. There was a flicker in the distance, growing in brightness and size as they neared. She made out a large wooden sign with Oak Bramble Inn written on it in big, curving script tucked into the trees alongside the road.
They bumped down the road a bit farther. Then Elle saw the inn.
It rose from the darkness like a ship in the night. Small globe lights were tucked along the drive and at the base of the house, making her think of midsummer parties and evenings spent dancing in the moonlight. Beyond the house, she could see glimpses of a network of globe lights leading to smaller houses. She'd seen photos when she'd made her reservation, but there hadn't been photos of the inn at night. Also, now that she was here she had a feeling the images she had seen wouldn't do the real thing justice.
"The main house is up front," Justin said, catching her looking. "Those are guest cottages in the back."
He pulled into a parking area and turned off the truck. Elle pushed open her door and stood, taking in the house, the crisp mountain air, and the feeling that something amazing was about to happen. Justin went around the back of the truck, pausing to grab her bag out of the bed.
"Say it," Justin said as he handed over the bag. "You like it."
Elle shook her head, but she was smiling. She hadn't known the man for more than a day, and already she hated it when he was right.
"It's beautiful, okay? What do I need to do to get my room?"
He chuckled, then lifted a brow.
"Stop that," she said, blushing under his gaze.
"Stop what?"
"I know what you're thinking."
Justin started walking up the drive. "You have no idea."
They walked to the main house, with Elle dragging her rolling bag behind her. It looked like a craftsman, but it was large enough to have a number of windows with small patios. Window boxes exploded with flowers, and she promised herself to make the time to enjoy the view in daylight to get the full experience.
The interior of the house was decorated with colorful art and white walls, not the cozy-chic grandmother style she expected. It was as though an artist had picked pieces both for beauty and comfort. A long receiving desk scrubbed to a golden sheen stood beneath the main staircase.
Justin rang the bell.
"Just a minute!" a voice called from the back of the house.
A moment later a tall woman with curling gray hair and a bright shawl wrapped around her bustled out. Her eyes were bright and danced when she saw them.
"Justin!" she said in surprise. "What took you so long? I expected you at least an hour ago."
He stepped close and they hugged. "We stopped in town for dinner."
She tutted but seemed appeased by the hug. Was it just Elle, or had her eyebrows gone up when Justin said, "we"?
"How's Evan?"
Justin shook his head. “He’s fine, Mom. Sends his love. Look, I brought the guest."
“Welcome,” Jess said to Elle, smiling.
Elle stepped forward. "It's lovely to meet you, ma'am.”
"Oh, just call me Jess," she said. She paused, then added, “The reservation is for two. Aren't we missing someone?"
Justin crossed his arms, looking amused at Elle's discomfort.
"He ... well, the other guest won’t be able to make it," she said. “It’s just me.”
Jess cut a glance to Justin, then back to Elle. "What a shame,” she said. “Well. Best make the most of it! We had you in two singles, anyhow. So there's nothing to fuss over."
"Two singles?" Justin said.
Elle speared him with a glance.
Jess didn't hold back. She smacked him on the arm. "Her sleeping arrangements are none of your beeswax! For that, you're helping me with the croissants this week."
Justin grumbled.
Elle apologized for the change of plans.
Jess waved a hand in the air, "Don't you worry," she said. "We have you in the main house, just upstairs. How about I show you to your room?"
Elle smiled back. "That sounds perfect."
Chapter 8
Elle woke to birds chirping, the sun shining, and the smell of blooming flowers in warm sunlight. The room Jess had fixed for her was snug and cozy. Colorful quilts covered the bed and the walls were hung with small galleries of bright paintings and charmingly rusted antiques. A white wicker chaise and vanity made the room full without being too crowded, and the small bathroom boasted a porcelain tub and a view of the back gardens.
After taking one glance at the room, she'd been charmed. One minute beneath the covers and she was out. Elle had slept soundly until sunrise, and even the memory of the previous day couldn't dampen her spirits.
She pushed aside the thought of Carter as she tossed back her blankets. She didn't need to worry about him. Certainly not before coffee and something with copious amounts of sugar. There would be plenty of time to figure out how to break it to her mother that she'd broken up with Carter.
Heaven help me.
She cleaned up in the small bathroom and dressed for breakfast, then took a few minutes to use her phone to photograph the room’s décor. Elle loved interior design and spent more time than she’d admit to redecorating her apartment (and Isabelle’s when her friend would let her). She made a mental note to share the bathroom photos with Isabelle later—her friend would love the clawfoot tub, but would hate it if Elle called before noon.
After showing Elle the room the night before, Jess had mentioned that breakfast would be served seven to nine and that the best pastries would go quickly. Elle figured she could explore the grounds in daylight and still have plenty of time to get a pastry.
But before she could leave her r
oom, her phone buzzed.
Elle answered with a rushed hello.
"Where are you? Are you okay? Did you kill him?" a familiar voice asked. In the background, Elle could hear two small voices shrieking about something.
"Hello Theo," Elle said. "Are those the cutest boys in the world I hear?"
"Yes," Theo said, sounding amused, but exasperated. "They're fighting over an action toy from their dad. When will the man learn to send two?"
Theo was separated from her husband. It was a topic Elle and Isabelle stepped around with care. Theo's husband was in the military and had been stationed overseas, and things had changed when he returned. According to Theo, they'd agreed to separate. End of story. She made it sound pat and dry, but Elle wasn't so certain her friend had taken it as well as she wanted them to think.
“And don't change the subject," Theo said. “We were talking about you. Not my kids.”
Elle plopped onto the bed. She smoothed a hand over the comforter. "You're keeping me from fresh-baked croissants, you know."
"Who picked up her phone?"
Elle laughed. "Good point."
She filled Theo in on her flight and the breakup.
"I'm sorry, Elle. I can't say I ever liked Carter—“
"You might have mentioned that once or twice," Elle said dryly.
"But I know how much you wanted him to be the one,” Theo said, her voice sincere. “And I'm sorry it didn't work out. Are you doing okay?"
"You know," Elle said, considering. "I think I am. I was spitting mad—you should have heard the things I said—but now I'm mostly just annoyed. I have to figure out what to say to my family ... It's such a mess."
Theo made a thoughtful noise. She didn't push, though. "So what happened after you broke up with him?"
Elle thought of Justin picking her up at the airport and smiled. He was just like his rust bucket truck. All grit and brawn, rough edges and—
"Elle? Where'd you go?"
"I'm here."
“And where is here?”
"I had a reservation, remember?" she said.
"At Oak Bramble. So you didn't cancel? My mom had a fit when I told her you weren’t staying with us. But we’re booked solid.“
Love At First Ink: A Woodbine Valley Romance (Tate Family Book 1) Page 6
