Easy. “The four seasons. And I’m not talking about the hotel chain, but winter, spring, summer and fall.”
“Then that’s the one we’ll start with.”
Hope fizzed in her blood for the first time since taking over the inn. “How?”
“How else? We’ll barter with the locals.”
Barter. As in, offer overnight stays free of charge in exchange for goods and services? “That’s even more brilliant,” she admitted.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m an amazing person, and you can’t get enough of me. Stop fawning. You’re embarrassing us both.” Daniel gave her a little push toward the hallway. “Go take your shower. Let your assistant—”
“He-ceptionist.”
“—handle the details.”
* * *
DANIEL SPENT THE bulk of the morning on the phone. First he called Harlow Glass. Well, Harlow Ockley now. The woman created magic murals with her paintbrush.
He told her what he wanted—four different murals in a single room—and she said, “For Dottie Mathis? I’ll do anything. I’ll even buy the paints, and I’ll do the murals for free.”
The girl had certainly changed since high school. “First, her name is Dorothea. Second, how soon can you start?”
“How about tomorrow? Beck has been overprotective ever since we found out—”
“Even better,” he interjected, uninterested in swapping life stories. He had too much work to do. “Thanks.”
Her chuckle drifted over the line. “No small talk, huh? Got it. Have Dot—Dorothea call me so we can discuss her vision, okay?”
“Will do.” He hung up and called his supplier to order the parts he needed for the inn’s new security system. It would be his “I’m an ass, I’m sorry, but hopefully my actions speak louder than my words” gift to Thea. Romance at its finest. After listing everything he wanted mailed to the inn, he spent a little time in one of the unoccupied rooms, measuring walls and windows. Then he called Jessie Kay, who owned an online dress shop—Jessie Kay’s Closet. He gave her the specs and asked her to sew a king-size comforter and a set of curtains at no charge.
She threatened to charge double until she heard the pieces would be the crowning glory of the Strawberry Inn’s first theme room.
“If I can pick the theme of the second room,” she said, “I’ll sew two comforters and two sets of curtains at no charge.”
“Done.” He figured she’d want the second room to be themed Jessie Kay Rules the World. If Thea wasn’t on board, well, the two women could work something else out.
“Perfect. Send me links to the kind of material Dorothea wants, and I’ll get started on the comforter right away.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll bring you the material tonight.” After work, but before their date, he would drive Thea to the city. Fabric shopping wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but he couldn’t stop smiling as he imagined her surprise and delight. “And thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jessie Kay said. “I’m awesome. I know. And I already know how I’m going to theme my room. I’m calling it Daniel’s Downfall.”
Lord save me. He hung up on her.
During the next half hour, two people called about the reception job. So soon? He told both the woman and the man to call back in a week. And he didn’t feel guilty about it. He’d just started, and he needed more time to do his thing. Besides, Thea needed to save a little money.
Excited by the new developments, he jumped to his feet. He’d hunt her down, tell her all about the favors he’d done her. Maybe he’d catch her dancing…
Or maybe not. Word of his new job had already spread, and multiple people stopped by the inn to “check on” him.
Why you working here? You short on cash, boy?
Did your security business already fail? Bless your heart. I remember when Jed Goodfellow tried to open that fancy sour cream store. You ’member that? He called it yogurt, but I know sour cream when I taste it.
You rack up a big bill last time you stayed here? Them pay-to-view movies can be expensive. I reckon I should have asked to work the counter in exchange for that porno I accidentally ordered.
No one asked if he was sweet on Thea, at least, which he’d expected. And it pleased him that nobody asked, of course it pleased him, but it also troubled him. Could no one picture them together?
Unwilling to answer any questions, he diverted everyone’s attention to Princess. She was a cute little thing with both back legs wrapped in bandages. Not that she cared for the attention; she growled at every newcomer.
All the while, Daniel remained on alert for Thea. He couldn’t not watch her whenever she appeared; every fiber of his being was attuned to every fiber of hers. Damn, she was gorgeous. She’d piled her dark curls on the crown of her head, and praise be to God above, she’d once again forgone makeup. His favorite freckles were on display.
She wore a pair of purple scrubs, and even with her Barbie doll features—those big eyes and plump lips—she looked about as innocent as a Sunday-school teacher.
He knew the decadent curves hidden underneath her clothes, a carnal secret he shared with no other man in town.
His gaze lingered on her delicate hands. She’d added red polka dots to her nail polish. Hopeful and angry.
Angry at him? Or Holly?
Either way, thoughts of war had no chance to intrude. The memory of Thea standing in his room, exquisitely naked, remained front and center in his mind all day, threatening to fry every brain cell he possessed. Well, fry his brain cells more.
The lack of workable circuits might explain his rush to protect her from a hundred pounds of goth fury, as if she were about to be murdered with an ice pick. But he’d simply reacted. The woman who’d blushed as she propositioned him deserved hugs, not slugs.
He was petting Princess when Thea peeked her head around the corner.
“Um, about our…” She licked her lips, obviously nervous, and glanced behind her to ensure no one stood nearby. “Evening together,” she concluded in a whisper. “Since we don’t want anyone to know about us, you’ll have to meet me at the Scratching Post.”
He swallowed a laugh, knowing she wouldn’t understand his amusement.
Didn’t think he’d make a move in a crowd? Challenge accepted.
“Fine. I planned to take you into the city to pick fabric for the theme room. If you’ll send me links to what you like, I’ll pick it up myself. Then I’ll meet you at the bar. What time?”
“Nine?”
“You want me to decide? Are you ceding control to me already?”
“Already? Try never.” She scowled at him, a little kitten pretending to be a tiger. “Meet me at nine.” A firm statement this go-round.
He experienced a familiar rush of excitement, exactly what he’d lived for since leaving the military. But underneath the excitement? A hint of impatience and a dash of irritation. He wanted this bundle of delicious contradictions now.
“I’ll be there,” he said with a nod. Nothing would keep him away.
The bell above the front door tinkled, and Dr. Vandercamp strode inside the lobby. Princess didn’t growl at him, but she didn’t rush over to greet him, either. That’s my girl.
“I’m headed back to the office,” Vandercamp said, “and thought I’d check on our pup.”
The word our raised Daniel’s hackles.
Thea took a step forward, wringing her hands, the scent of her fogging his head. “Brett? Brett Vandercamp?”
The doctor looked her up and down and brightened. “Dottie. Hi.”
“Her name is Dorothea,” Daniel snapped.
She ignored him. “How are you, Brett? I’d heard you moved back to town to take over your dad’s veterinary hospital.”
“I’m well, and you heard correctly.
How about you? What have you been up to?”
She played with a loose tendril of hair, the curl coiling around her finger. Her color was high—because of douche-nozzle Vandercamp?
“I’m even better now that you’re here,” Thea said with a tremulous smile. “You look good.”
“So do you. Very good.”
What. The. Hell. Were they flirting?
“I didn’t realize you two were friends,” Daniel grated.
“I tutored Brett,” Thea said, her gaze remaining on the vet. “Thanks to me, he made an A in history.”
Vandercamp rested an elbow on the counter, leaning toward her as if he had every right to invade her personal space. “I haven’t seen you around, had no idea you’d grown even prettier.”
“Really? You think so?” She blushed the loveliest shade of rose. “I mean, of course I’ve grown prettier. Thank you for noticing.”
When Daniel had complimented her, she’d called him a liar.
Annoyed, he inserted himself between the pair. “Are you here about the dog or trolling for a date?”
“Why not both?” Far from intimidated, Vandercamp picked up and examined Princess. He changed her bandages and said, “What do you say, Dot—Dorothea? Want to go out sometime?”
Her breath caught in her throat, as if she couldn’t believe something so wonderful was happening to her.
Say no. She had better say—
“Yes. I’d like that.”
Daniel gripped the edge of the counter with so much force he feared he would crack the wood. As Thea exchanged numbers with Vandercamp, he focused on his breathing. In, out. In…out.
When the vet left at long last—good riddance!—Daniel glared at the flustered Thea. “You’re dating me.”
His little kitten showed her claws, hissing, “I’m dating you under duress. We are not exclusive, Mr. Room Wrecker. If we were, then and only then could you warn me away from Brett.”
I will not punch a wall. She was the only woman he wanted, and he expected to be the only man she wanted. “What would you like me to wear for our date?” The words shot from him, as sharp as daggers.
Her gaze slid over his white button up and dark slacks. His Sunday best, as his momma used to say. “Wear a T-shirt and jeans. No, sweatpants.” She waved a finger over him. “And make sure both are baggy.”
The motion startled Princess, who snarled at her. To his surprise, Thea stuck out her tongue at the dog. A second later, she covered her mouth with her hand, those shamrock eyes wide. Then she giggled. Soon the giggle bloomed into an all-out laugh. The amusement lit her entire face, making his chest ache.
She’s mine, and I won’t share. But she’s right. If our relationship is to remain a secret, I can’t warn Vandercamp away.
He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
A boom of thunder rattled the building, and Princess quieted. She began to tremble. He pressed her against his chest. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, explosions and gunfire raging all around him, he and his buds had to lie down and press together in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike…or for death to strike them. Feeling another’s heartbeat had been their only tether to life.
“Finally! We’re getting some action.” Thea messed with her phone. “There’s a ninety-five percent chance of hail.” She skipped to the door to…record the storm?
“You like hail?”
“Don’t be silly. Only crazy people like hail,” she said—while grinning. “Maybe a freak snowstorm will blow in and a tornado will hit. We could have a snowquakenado blizzard. Do you know how awesome that would be?”
“Only crazy people like hail, but sane people wish for a snowquakenado blizzard?” The incongruity of her statement somehow eased the tension inside him. “Sweetheart, I’m getting mixed signals from you.” In more ways than one.
Another giggle, and hell! He wished she had stayed quiet; the sound of her good humor only enchanted him more. “If everything goes as predicted, the sun will show up in about an hour and the storm will move on.” She opened the door and stepped outside, saying over her shoulder, “You’ll be safe here, so there’s no reason to worry.”
Who was this girl? “I’m not worried.”
She’d wanted to be a meteorologist but had dropped out of school after getting married. He wondered why.
He wondered about every detail of her life, and it disconcerted him. Curiosity had never before factored into his romantic pursuits, but the more he learned about Thea, the less he realized he actually knew.
Daniel carried Princess to the front door and peered out the glass, watching as Thea spoke into her phone, wind whipping around her, rain soaking her hair and plastering her scrubs to her skin. Her nipples were hard.
A sense of possession riveted him in place, invaded his blood, his bones.
Secret or not, she’s mine. No other man will have her.
He walked away before he gave in to the temptation to join her outside. He could wait for their date to make his move. Barely.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHAT THE HECK was going on?
Yesterday Dorothea had woken up with no way to create her first theme room and zero dates. Now she had a theme room in the works and three dates. Three! Daniel, Brett the vet and John, Holly’s teacher.
John had texted her about an hour ago. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the parent-teacher conference. Or sister-teacher conference LOL :) It would be an honor to take you to dinner on Sunday. Any interest?
She responded with, Dinner would be lovely.
A totally suave answer, breezy rather than flabbergasted. Meanwhile she’d had a panic attack on the inside. He likes me, and he can’t stop thinking about me. He’s clearly insane! No, no. He’s smart, and he has good taste. I’ve got a good heart, remember? And I have prospects. But I just agreed to go on a date with him, which means I just agreed to talk to him with food stuck in my teeth, because that is totally going to happen!
Brett had called about twenty minutes after John texted. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve got going with Daniel Porter—”
“Nothing,” she’d assured him in a rush, ignoring the twist of…something dark in her gut.
“Good. How about dinner on Sunday?”
For the first time in her life she’d gotten to say, “I just made plans with someone else.” What were the rules for dating multiple people? Was she supposed to tell Brett who she’d made plans with? “How about dinner on Saturday?”
“Great,” he’d said. “I’ll text you Saturday morning with details.”
At that point, she’d almost canceled on Daniel. Two men? Alert the presses, she was a wanted woman. Three men? She was a glutton.
In the end, she’d let things stand. A deal was a deal. Three dates with Daniel meant three weeks of free labor. Only a fool would pass up such a delicious—uh, advantageous opportunity.
She spent the next half hour on the phone with Harlow, planning the murals and exchanging ideas, and her excitement skyrocketed. The four seasons theme room would be better than she’d ever dreamed. And so would her love life!
Tonight would be a dress rehearsal for the other, more important, dates.
She’d go all-out and scale back as needed.
With that in mind, she donned her most feminine outfit: a white baby doll dress with lace straps and a lace trim that ended just above her knees. Her once-treasured wedding “gown,” special only for sentimental reasons. It had been the best she could afford the day she and Jazz eloped. For her feet, she selected ballerina slippers with ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves.
Both items were completely nonsensical, maybe even out of fashion, okay, definitely out of fashion, but so what? She’d never been a trendsetter.
I am who I am, and Brett a
nd John like me anyway. What an amazing day!
She considered painting her nails with the glittery white polish Daniel had given her. Problem was, he would consider it a sign she wanted to sleep with him. She did, but she wouldn’t. Then she toyed with the idea of painting her nails solid yellow, Daniel’s favorite color. But again, he would consider it a sign. She selected a pale gold to represent her nervousness. What? Gold could pass as orange. Just because the color resembled Daniel’s eyes, well, that meant nothing.
Her cell phone buzzed, Holly’s face appearing on the screen, and she hurried to answer.
“I’m going to the city with friends,” her sister said in lieu of a greeting. Laughter rang out in the background.
“What are—” Dorothea began.
Click.
“—you guys going to do in the city?” she finished lamely.
She sighed and stuffed her cell in the pocket of her dress. At least her sister had deigned to call and tell her. But still, the rift between them had widened, no doubt about it, and Dorothea hadn’t yet come up with a plan to build a bridge.
Not going to worry about it. Not tonight.
As she’d proved, time was the difference between despair and glee, zero dates and three…the death of a relationship and the start of a new one.
* * *
WITH HER HEAD HIGH, Dorothea strolled into the Scratching Post. Her heart raced, and perspiration dampened her palms. Through a thick veil of smoke, she saw a sizable crowd congregated at the bar. Wednesday wasn’t really a let’s-party night, but Ryanne was on duty, hustling to fill drink orders, and the guys couldn’t get enough of her.
Dorothea noticed a man she’d met but had never truly conversed with—Brock Hudson. He was heavily tattooed and pierced in several places, his dark hair shaved military short, the shadow of a beard darkening his jaw. A woman perched on either side of his lap, making him the picture of debauchery. Though he smiled at one, then the other, he seemed more aware of his surroundings than his companions.
It was a trait Daniel shared.
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