by Ciara Knight
“No, don’t do that. We don’t want to have to rescue you, Carissa.” Several beeps sounded in the background. “Got to run. Wait for Charlie.”
Carissa clutched Drew’s coat to her chest, catching a whiff of fresh clean manly aroma with a hint of expensive aftershave on the collar. She shuffled up the front steps, snagged his bag and the boxes, and went inside to deliver the bad news but found Drew covered in soot, coughing and spitting. A dark cloud of ash exploded in the air around him. Mrs. Graysman was going to have a coronary when she saw her area rug covered in black. “What are you doing?”
He wiped his eyes with his dark sleeve, only smearing more dirt over his face, making him look like a Burglar Santa Claus. “She’s alive.” The ball of black he held high and proud in front of him looked like a piece of charcoal.
Mew. Mew. Okay, a meowing piece of charcoal, but that little sound melted her fear and warmed her heart. Of course, Drew’s white teeth and eyes shining from behind the darkness were wide, as if he’d saved the town from flooding. If he only knew the trouble he’d be in when Mrs. Graysman saw this, not to mention the tree outside. She didn’t have the heart to tell him, not when she knew how much he hated to be unkempt. And boy, he was unkempt at the moment.
Drew snuggled the little thing under his chin, making it look like he had an old coal mining beard. The large-framed, militant man who strived for perfection had never looked so good. The way he cuddled the tiny creature in his hands and analyzed its face and paws made him resemble the hunk-holding-a-baby poster. The one that made all women swoon. Not Carissa. She never got it.
Until now.
Chapter Nine
Gritty, itchy dust clung to Drew’s teeth, eyelashes, skin, clothes, everything. He hated it, but he hated seeing the poor little kitten suffer more. People were unpredictable and emotionally messy, but animals were solid. You knew what they needed and wanted in life. “Can you get some water and a towel? This baby isn’t going to like this, but we need to clean her up to make sure she doesn’t have any lacerations.”
Carissa stood there staring at him as if she’d seen a soot-covered ghost. “Ah, yeah, sure. Kitchen. There. Follow me.” She walked with a blank stare through a swinging door holding his coat to her chest.
He kicked off his shoes in an attempt not to put prints through the beautiful old home. Sounds above stirred, but no one came down to see what was going on. No one to help. “Maybe we should take her to the vet.” He entered the large, cabinet-lined kitchen with marble countertops and found Carissa standing next to a stainless-steel farm sink. His coat rested on the back of a dining chair and the boxes on the island.
“There’s a vet, but she’s probably out doing her farm runs. I can leave her a message to come check out the kitten after she returns to town.” Carissa stepped away from the sink and dialed her phone. “Hey, cancel the fire department call.”
He held the squirming kitten over the sink and brushed as much soot off its fur as possible.
“Yep, cat is out.” She opened a drawer and removed a few dishtowels and set them on the counter. “No, I didn’t play hero. It was Drew Lancaster. He saved the cat.”
The poor little thing squirmed and screamed but didn’t appear to be cut or harmed in anyway, only dirty and tiny. “Sorry, little one. You aren’t going to like this.” He checked the water temperature and then shoved the stopper into the sink.
“Can you radio Dr. Mauldin and let her know to stop by to check the animal out when she returns to town? Okay, great. I better go help bathe the cat. That’s right…bathe.” She snickered and then hung up the phone.
“Here, let me hold it while you wash your face. You can use one of those towels.” She slid her fingers over his and gently retrieved the little fur puff. It was cozy and warm in the kitchen, and he had to admit it was calming to be in a place where you didn’t hear yelling through walls and honks on the street, not to mention the music they played downstairs. Maybe Lori was right and the quaint inn would be a better place to sleep than the couch at their makeshift office.
Carissa smelled nice, a mix of sweet yet spicy hometown goodness.
He found relief from the obnoxious black dust on his face with warm water and some soap. Still, only the cat would fit in the sink, not him. “I think I need more than a shower. You say there’s a fire department here? They might have to hose me off.”
She quirked her head to one side. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor. You wear it well.”
Was that a compliment? Wow, maybe he was on to something. Lori would be happy. He decided he better just keep his mouth shut, though. If he opened it again, he might ruin the moment and damage any progress he’d unintentionally made.
Carissa held the kitten like a newborn baby, leaving black marks on her sweater. For the first time, he didn’t mind the mess. It looked good on her, holding the little cuddly creature. She’d been a defensive, walls up, at a distance kind of person until this moment.
He finished cleaning his face and hands and then retrieved the kitten, holding it up to look eye to eye with it. “What are we going to call you?”
“Midnight,” she suggested but didn’t sound convinced.
He dipped the squirming kitten into the water, and darkness pooled in the water. After a few rubs and dunks, cries and hisses, they realized it wasn’t a black cat at all. “I think we should call her something else, huh?”
“Yeah, no doubt.” Carissa covered the kitten’s eyes and poured some more water over her.
“She looks like a little rat right now, but we don’t want to call her that.” He used a drop of dish soap and finished the job and then held the kitten up to Carissa’s awaiting opened towel. He wrapped the towel around its little body and rubbed it dry. When he removed the towel, it looked like a puffy cotton ball.
“Wow, that makes a difference.” Carissa scratched the kitten’s head. “You’re a little cutie, huh?”
“She sure is.” He realized he said that while looking at Carissa, and she noticed. They were standing close, so close he noticed a wayward yellow speck in her eyes, but it didn’t look out of place. It was more of a highlight mark to the blue.
“Snowball. How about Snowball?”
“Cute, and she looks like one,” he agreed but not sure it fit the squirming little thing perfectly.
“What’s going on?” a woman’s voice screeched from the living room. He recognized it as Mrs. Graysman, the owner of the inn. He’d only seen the woman the two times he’d been in the inn long enough to take a shower and to work with Lori in the parlor for an hour last night.
Drew unplugged the sink and cuddled the kitten to his chest. “I’ll go face the music. Can you clean this sink and floor?”
Carissa wiped her hands and shot him the first soft I-don’t-want-you-to-be-run-out-of-town look since his arrival. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. If there’s one thing I am a stickler about, it’s taking responsibility for one’s actions. Wish me luck.”
“You’ll need more than luck.” Carissa patted the kitten’s head. “You better put on your cutest little smile to help out your hero. Mrs. Graysman is a sucker for all things small and sweet.”
“I’ll lead with Snowball, then.” He took a deep breath and headed for the door.
“You realize if you name it, you keep it. Town law.” She squatted with towel in hand so he couldn’t see her face since the center island blocked his view. No way of knowing if she was pulling his unsouthernly chain or not. He’d deal with that later, though. There was no room in his life for a pet, no matter how adorable. Commitment wasn’t his strongest skill.
Based on the moaning in the other room, he needed to do some damage control and quick. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door and entered the living area to find Mrs. Graysman with her tight curls and tight lips turning in the center of the room. “What happened?”
He bolted to her with his best smile that usually changed women’s attitudes toward him. “I
promise to clean this area, and the company will reimburse you for any damages.”
“Company? I don’t trust no fancy companies. Look at my rug!” She pointed to a size eleven male footprint. He glanced at his shoes only a foot away from his mark.
“I’m so sorry for the mess. This little kitten here was trapped in your fireplace. When I opened the flue to try to coax her out, all this soot erupted. The chimney must have needed cleaning for years.” He chuckled, but she wasn’t laughing. She glowered at him with an air of resentment. So much for his humor streak. “It covered me from head to toe. I took off my shoes so I wouldn’t track it any farther, but this little one needed attention quick.” He held up the little puff ball, and she eyed it, but her glower turned to a narrowed gaze, ready-to-attack expression.
“That darn cat has been hanging around my place all week. I told the council something needed to be done about the feral cats. They eat my plants in spring, cry all night, and leave poo on my front lawn. It’s probably got some sort of disease. I run an inn, not an animal rescue. Get that thing out of here.”
He glanced around the room, trying to find something to help his case, but he was at a loss. This could go viral on the small-town tree of shame. He was sure if Davey caught wind, he’d use this as ammo for his social execution. He needed to do something and quick. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll have a cleaning crew come out within the hour, and I’ll have a tree removal service haul away the branch.”
Her mouth opened. The eyes wide, shock-filled face told him he’d just signed his arrest warrant. “You broke my tree?” she screeched at a decimal he didn’t know was possible, and he knew his days in Sugar Maple were numbered.
Chapter Ten
Mrs. Graysman jolted Carissa into action. No matter how much she didn’t want to be the center of all this business for the town, she didn’t wish Mrs. Graysman’s wrath on anyone. Except maybe Judas Jackie.
She snagged the plate of scones and shoved open the door. “Mrs. Graysman, I’m so happy you’re here. Mr. Lancaster told me how he was going to talk to you about filming here at the inn, so I told him I would walk with him since I was delivering these. Isn’t it exciting? I mean, this place screams small-town charm, doesn’t it?”
Her angry snarl relaxed into a droopy grin. “He was?”
“I was?” For a bright businessman, he sure was slow.
“Of course, remember? You said you wanted to capture the heart of the town, and when you saw this place, you thought it was the perfect symbol of southern charm.”
“Yes, we were hoping to do a shoot here. As soon as Ms. Donahue finishes making her special treats for us to take test shots, we’ll be here. I’ll have Lori set up a time with you.”
“My inn? I thought it didn’t make the cut. Mayor Horton, who we all know has never forgiven me for the incident of 1968, blacklisted me from the project.”
“She’ll have to agree if she wants this to move forward, and whatever Drew Lancaster says he needs, she has to give him.” Carissa waved the plate of scones in front of her for added distraction.
“And I want this place,” he said with authority.
That was the Drew Lancaster she had met in the mayor’s office a few days ago.
Mrs. Graysman snagged a scone and took a bite. “Well, I like that Lori girl. She’s nice. You, I haven’t seen much of since you arrived. Rumor has it you slept in that old building Mayor Horton set your offices up in. What? My inn’s not good enough for you?”
“It’s too good. I mean, I can’t wait to enjoy it tonight. I’ve been working past hours, so I didn’t want to disturb you to unlock the front door to let me in. I guess Lori forgot to give me the key. Tonight, though, I look forward to staying here and getting a good night’s sleep.”
A couple entered, laughing. “Hurry. We don’t want to miss the scones again.”
The couple lit up at the sight of Carissa’s scones, which made her day a little brighter. But they halted at the sight of the soot and Mrs. Graysman. The lady rubbed her hands together. “Sorry to interrupt. We came back from our hike early so we could enjoy one of your scones again. They are divine.”
“Come in, come in. Yes, the scones are here. Please, excuse our mess. Our hero here saved this little kitten. Don’t worry. A cleaning crew is coming to get this all cleaned up. In the meantime, why don’t you sit in the dining room, and I’ll get some fresh, warm hot chocolate for you.” Mrs. Graysman snagged the plate out of Carissa’s hands and grumbled low enough so only Drew and Carissa could hear. “Get this taken care of now.”
The woman tugged her husband toward the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go get cleaned up and hurry back before they’re all gone.”
“Sure thing. We’re on it.” Carissa let out a long breath, but when she saw the mess, she didn’t feel the relief. “You said a cleaning crew. You have one in mind?”
“I was hoping you knew someone.” He held Snowball to his cheek and offered his own kitten eyes.
“Fine, I’ll make a call, but it’ll cost you.” Carissa retrieved her phone from her pocket and texted Stella, who had friends who cleaned houses. “Okay, good thing there are plenty of scones for Mrs. Graysman’s two guests. But I think I’ll make a peace offering dessert for them tonight for after dinner.”
She shoved the box he’d abandoned on the front porch into his chest. “We best get these delivered while they are still fresh if you want to get everyone on board and welcome this project to the town. Is the project already approved for the town by the mayor? Technically yes, but without the town behind it, things can be difficult.”
“But I still don’t understand how baked goods are going to win the town over so that I can get this filming underway.” He set the kitten down on the sofa to put his coat on. “I thought I’d just won over Mrs. Graysman.” With a pinched face, he buttoned up his coat and stood as if the sleeves were lined with nails. “Great. Now I have to get this cleaned, too.”
“You did, but there are more in this town than her who don’t trust you.”
“Do you trust me?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. In an odd way she did. The man was manipulative but predictable. He didn’t lie, but he did talk circles around people to get what he wanted. It was more of a gray area.
“Never mind. Just tell me once we deliver these bars that the town will be won over and we can get to work on the test shots.”
“It’s going to take more than one box of sweets.” She retrieved Snowball, who was hanging off the back of the sofa by her claws and thrust her at him.
He collapsed onto the cushion and put his head back on the wall. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You’re going to have to make time.” She scanned the room, trying to think of a way to make this man understand the town better.
The scent of pine trees still filled the air, even though the massive Christmas tree had been removed a few days ago. It had been beautiful and filled the room with cheer. She spotted the album on the coffee table and sat down on the couch next to him. “Here, look at this.”
Snowball climbed up his coat and around his neck to settle under his chin.
“It’s the Christmas album that’s left out all year. Mrs. Graysman takes photos and places them in here. It’s been done every year since the first Christmas that this home became an inn a hundred years ago.” She opened the front cover, and he scooted closer to see, his side touching her arm. “Wow, that looks old.”
“As I said, tradition. Something that’s important to the people of Sugar Maple, Tennessee. Here.” She flipped to the last page, where she could show him the goings on only a few weeks ago. “This is where the preschoolers made decorations for the tree, and here’s where the elders lit the tree—oh, and here’s where the mayor read The Little Drummer Boy to the guests of the inn.”
“They do the town celebrations in this inn for the holidays?” he asked.
“Well, no, not all of them. We do many events in the square. This is just one part of
this town’s Christmas, but each part is important to us.”
He nodded and flipped through some of the pages. “I see that Sugar Maple celebrates Christmas, but this is a new year. How am I interrupting anything now?”
Footsteps sounded overhead, reminding her they weren’t alone. “It doesn’t. I’m trying to explain that waltzing into a town family and interrupting things without even so much as a hello and a host or hostess gift is rude here in the south.”
The front door opened, sending a breeze into the warm parlor. Drew shot up as if standing at attention when he saw that it was Ms. Horton. She stopped in the entryway and gave Carissa an inquisitive eyebrow raise. “I heard about the catastrophe here, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
Busted. Carissa needed to do some damage control and quick. “He’s a town hero. Saved the cat, and he helped make a special treat for the elders. He’s going to personally deliver them, but I was running late and needed to drop these first.”
Ms. Horton removed her gloves. “I see. Mr. Lancaster, I hope you’re enjoying your stay here.”
“Yes, this town is…exceptional,” he said with a grit to his tone.
Carissa knew what he meant by that, and based on Ms. Horton’s twist of her lips, she knew too. The gig was up. Carissa would have to stop dancing around things and commit to this project, even if her heart wasn’t in it.
“Would you excuse us for a moment? I need to steal our girl for something in the dining room.”
“Of course.” Drew returned to the photo album without protest. “Actually, this is perfect. I’ll go clean up before we head out. Give me ten minutes.” He shot up the stairs, leaving Carissa to face Ms. Horton.
“Young lady, what game are you playing at?”
“The same one you are.” Carissa nudged the plate of scones toward Ms. Horton, hoping to distract her.
“What are you talking about?” Ms. Horton snagged a scone.
Carissa took advantage of Ms. Horton’s mouth being full and hit straight on with the facts. “Please. You stuck the production people’s offices in Mark’s former apartment above his family’s old store. Just to make a point that I should move on with my life.”
