by Dixie Davis
Doug gave her hand a squeeze. “Guess you dodged a bullet. We both did.”
She couldn’t miss the catch of emotion in his voice. As glad as she was that she could be there for him, to comfort him from a place of experience, Lori wished she could take this from him.
Once the shock wore off, he was going to hurt even worse than she was from running around tonight.
Lori slid an arm around her son. “Anyway, I know this isn’t easy for you — it’s not easy for anybody — but I’ve been there. I know how you feel.”
Doug nodded slowly, pressing both hands against his chest. Lori doubted it was heartburn — more like heartache. Reality was setting in. “I still don’t understand,” he murmured.
“You may never.” Lori stood and pulled on his hands, and Doug obliged her by getting to his feet. Lori wrapped her arms around his waist and just held on. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, holding back the tears. “It wasn’t meant to be. If you want to break things off, I mean.”
Doug groaned. “If? There’s an ‘if’ you don’t want to marry a murderous sociopath?”
“Okay,” Lori said with a grin. “Point taken. I didn’t want to marry one, either, and obviously he didn’t care about me in any real way. That really hurt for a while. Hurt my heart, my self-confidence. But then one day I woke up and realized I’d stopped hurting a long time ago.” She ignored the jab to her heart. Even though they hadn’t officially dated, Mitch had been much harder to get over than her whirlwind pseudoromance with Joey.
Right now, she needed to be here for her son. Of course she still had a place in his life. Of course she could still help him. Even after he did find the right woman — who wasn’t a murderer — and got married, even if they lived in her parents’ basement, even if they were on the other side of the world. She would always be Doug’s mom, and she’d always be there for him.
Lori leaned her head against his arm. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
“Promise promise?” Now the tears were creeping into his voice in earnest, as he fully turned back into her six-year-old devil/angel son for a moment. He’d asked the same question all the time that summer.
And again the summer Glenn died.
And now.
“Promise promise,” Lori whispered.
Doug slid his arm around her back and gave her a squeeze, both of them sniffling. Then he kissed the top of her head. When did her baby get so tall?
“You should get some rest,” she suggested. “I have an empty room upstairs tonight. Might be good for a . . . change of scenery. I’ll bring your stuff up.”
Doug thought about that a minute. “Thanks. That’s a good idea.”
Lori gave him one more hug and sent him off with keys to the Wilsons’ empty room. She retrieved his suitcase from his room and his toiletries from her bathroom and dropped them off with a final hug good night.
Somewhere through the reeling haze, Lori had heard guests filtering in after the festival. It was after eleven now, so she assumed they were all in. If not, they had their keys. Lori locked up, making the rounds to turn off most of the lights. She always kept the porch light on and a lamp on the sideboard lit so people wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark if they came in late or needed something from their cars or the Quik’n Easy in the middle of the night.
Just as she finished her last check, a knock came at the door. Had she locked a guest out? Lori headed back to the door and checked the peephole.
Mitch Griffin stood on her front porch. His hair had gotten a little longer, showing a little more curl. In the summer, he abandoned his wardrobe of plaid flannel for T-shirts that fit his broad shoulders almost too well.
Should she answer? Before she could even begin the list of reasons why this was a terrible idea and she’d just get her heart broken all over again, she was already turning the knob. But when she met his eyes, she couldn’t find the words to begin the conversation.
He showed up here. She could let him start.
This was good news, wasn’t it?
“Hi,” Mitch said.
Well, it was a start. “Hi.”
“Listen, I know I was a complete jerk —”
“Yep.”
Mitch pressed his lips together and looked away. “You had to agree, but did you have to do it so quickly?”
Lori allowed a small laugh.
“Did you get the flowers?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the vase on the coffee table. “You sent those?”
He nodded, shifting his feet on her front porch. Behind him, the sound of the river carried. “Letting you go was so hard for me, and I still think about you every day.”
She could say the same, but she wouldn’t. This was his choice.
Mitch met her eyes again. “I made a huge mistake. If there’s anyway we could go back to how things were —”
Her heart soared — but it was still cracked. There was no undoing what he’d done, and it seemed unfair for her love life to turn around while her son’s fell apart. “We can’t go back to how things were.”
His gaze fell, but he nodded. “I understand.”
“But,” Lori rushed to say before he turned away, “we might be able to start over.”
Mitch smiled and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Mitch Griffin.”
“I’m Lori. Are you here about the leaky toilet?”
He laughed. “I can be if you need me to be.”
“I have really missed having a handyman on call.”
Mitch’s expression immediately shifted from happy to horrified. “I didn’t mean just being your handyman —”
Lori took his hand again. “I’m teasing.”
He blew out a breath in relief, then squeezed her hand. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Lori tried not to brace herself for bad news, but she had to. There was no way this was good.
Mitch opened his mouth but hesitated. “You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought that, even before —” He waved a hand at her fun outfit and her silver-blonde curls, which she’d changed so dramatically from her flat, fading dishwater color a couple months ago. “But now everyone can see you the way I’ve seen you.”
Lori looked down to hide her grin and her blush. “Thank you,” she managed. “Does this mean we’re not ‘in limbo’ anymore?”
Mitch stepped closer. “I hope this isn’t too forward,” he said, “but I would really love to kiss you. If that answers your question.”
She couldn’t help a gasp — but a pleased gasp. She let a teasing smile twist her lips. “I suppose that would be all right.”
Mitch beamed back. “Sounds better than ‘all right’ to me.” And then he leaned down and kissed her.
Thank you so much for reading Inn Dire Straits! I’m excited to share this cozy mystery with you. I have lots more planned for Lori and the rest of Dusky Cove, so I hope you can join me for all their adventures!
Do you know the best way to thank an author when you enjoy a book? We do love getting notes from happy readers, but even more helpful is leaving a review online on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews also help writers get advertising spots and spread the word about a book — and they can even help people decide to buy it!
Until my next book comes out, I’d like to invite you to join my mailing group! I’ve got lots of fun bonuses there, from recipes from this book to a tourist’s guide to Dusky Cove. Join me here: http://dixieddavisauthor.com/newsletter/
Thanks again for reading, and I hope to see you in Dusky Cove again soon!
Love,
Coming soon from Dixie Davis
Out now in the Dusky Cove B&B Cozy Mystery Series!
Inn Over Her Head
Inn Trouble
Inn Vain
Coming Soon!
Inn Danger
Like all my books, this book was only possible with help from many sources. Topping the list, of course, would be my supportive family, and especially my husband and my children
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As always, many thanks go to my beta readers, Diana, Ingrid, and Stacey, whose feedback always helps me make my books better. A special round of thanks goes to author Britney M. Mills for last-minute feedback that was very helpful!
Once again, I’m grateful to God for giving me this gift, a passion for writing, and reminding me not to hide it under a bushel.
And I’m grateful to you, reader, for joining me again in Dusky Cove!
Dixie Davis was born and raised in North Carolina. (Unfortunately, not in Dusky Cove — it’s a fictional town.)
Her mom got her hooked on cozy mysteries from a young age. Lillian Jackson Braun’s classic Cat Who... series are some of her favorites.
Dixie has been writing since she was a teenager. She makes her home with her husband and children in the Rocky Mountains now, so writing about Dusky Cove is one of her favorite ways to connect with a little taste of home.
Dixie loves to hear from readers! You can reach her at [email protected].
