Chapter Two
The innkeeper was one hot piece.
Who would’ve thought?
Cole slicked back his hair, dabbed on some cologne, and checked himself in the mirror. He’d planned on going out tonight, seeing what Blue Lake had to offer in the women department, but now…he was going to stay right where he was.
Convenient.
Did Rita scope this place out before booking it? She probably thought she could keep him out of the bars and questionable pictures off the Internet by reserving somewhere with a hot host.
As the tour moved along, she was getting better and better at her job. He’d have to give her a raise.
Making his way downstairs, Cole scoped out the place where he’d be spending the next few days. The walls were painted cigar-brown with wood accents and long, draping curtains. In the living room, a large stone hearth was surrounded by leather chairs and couches, lending to the cozy cabin feel. Down the stairs and to the left, a hallway branched off—to the four bedrooms she mentioned, he supposed—and to the right, an entryway led to a large dining room. Five tables and chairs provided ample space for guests to dine; it was probably hopping in the summer.
As he made his way through the dining room, the smell of garlic and pepper struck him hard. His stomach growled.
“What’s that smell?” he said, striding into the kitchen.
Rachael jumped and spun from the sink. “Umm…steak and eggs.”
“Did I scare you again?”
“You took me off guard, that’s all.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Guests usually wait in the dining room for me to serve them.”
He pointed to a small table near the front window. “Can’t we eat here?”
She stared, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “I don’t dine with guests.”
“Why the hell not?”
“When people go on vacation, they don’t particularly want to eat with the wait staff.”
“I get that,” he said, laughing. “But I don’t like eating alone, and since I’m the only person here, I think this table will work.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re used to getting everything you want, aren’t you?”
He winked. “You nailed it.”
What he wouldn’t give to nail her. Right against the counter, on the table and floor. Untie that apron and let it fall. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander from her silky gold hair, to her full breasts, to the dip in her waist.
As a smile turned her lips upward, she turned back to the grill and started flipping. Oh, she felt the attraction, too. Only she didn’t want to let him know it.
“How was the drive up?” she said, her voice tight.
“Sucked hard.”
He slid into the chair near the window and peered out. The glass was fogged, but the condensation raining down allowed him to see the cobblestone street and wood-planked sidewalks. Three iron posts stuck out of the gutter…in case he wanted to tie up his horse. Looked like the town hadn’t changed much since the early 1800’s. “Our SUV blew a tire. No one knew how to fix it. Know what it’s like to slide on your back through the mud on the side of a busy highway?”
She tossed a fat steak on the plate next to the grill. “You changed the tire?”
“Don’t believe me?”
“You don’t strike me as the tire-changing type.” She set the plate in front of him. “But what do I know?”
“I suppose I should be thankful the flat wasn’t on the tour bus. We’d probably still be stuck out there.”
He dug in immediately. The meat was juicy and tender, seasoned perfectly. And the eggs—she hadn’t asked how he liked them, but they were scrambled with cheese and peppers. The food was hearty, warming him from the inside out. He’d been on a chicken, fish and vegetable diet for the last three months; maybe that’s why the food tasted like sin on a plate.
“Delicious,” he mumbled between bites.
“Thanks,” she grinned, and her entire face lit up. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got Pepsi, water, beer.”
“Beer would be great.”
She popped the top and slid it over, and then made a second plate. “Anything else I can get you?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, then. Enjoy.”
As she strode past him into the dining room, Cole continued to shove his face…until he realized she wasn’t coming back. He took his plate and beer and walked into the dining room.
Empty.
He found her in the living room sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fire, her plate in her lap.
“What are you doing?” he said, sitting in the chair across from her.
“I don’t know what they call it in Hollywood…” She took a dainty bite without looking at him. “…but around these parts, we call it eating.”
“I asked you to sit with me in the kitchen.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did, I said…” He replayed the words in his head. He’d said he didn’t want to eat alone, that the table would be fine. Damn it. “…mind if I sit out here with you?”
She shook her head, keeping those light brown eyes focused on her plate.
“Who else works here?” he asked, as the fire crackled with warmth.
“Just me.”
“You run this place by yourself?”
“Don’t believe me?” she mocked.
“Touché.” He clinked his beer against the side of her plate and then took a long swig. “How long have you lived in Blue Lake?”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “My entire life. I was raised not far from here. My parents owned the inn before me, and my grandparents before them.”
“Family business. Nice.” He finished off his plate and then set it on the table next to him. “Nobody in my family could sing. At least not that I knew of, but it’s too late to ask anyone about it now.”
She put down her fork and stared to say something, but stopped herself short.
“So what should I call you?” he asked, leaning back in the chair. “Mrs. McCoy?”
The corner of her lip turned into a smile. “Rachael is fine.”
She didn’t answer his question. Not really.
“Are you married, Rachael?”
“No.” She sawed off a large bite of meat.
“Surprising.”
She glared, chewing slowly.
“Ever been?”
“Not that I recall.” She pursed her lips. “You?”
A deep laugh bubbled out of him. “I’m about the farthest from married that I could get. But if I found the right woman, I wouldn’t be opposed to settling down. At some point I’m going to tire of living on the road, and wouldn’t mind having a wife and a few children to welcome me home.”
Wasn’t a total lie. He did want to settle down someday, just not anytime soon. He was in the middle of building a career, of becoming a legend. At least that’s what his manager and recording label kept telling him. As long as he kept singing the songs they wanted him to sing, he was rocking down the right road.
“Is that right?” she said, setting her plate at her feet. “I bet you could see yourself in a place like this. Snow falling outside the window. Feet kicked up in front of the fire. Dinner hot on the stove. A woman curled up beside you as you strum your newest song on the guitar.”
His chest warmed at the picture she’d painted in his head. That sounded like heaven. Absolute perfection.
She scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned in close. She smelled like a mouth-watering blend of steak and peppercorn, smothered over something softer. Was it vanilla? She was downright edible.
“I have you tell you Mr. Turner, that you’re not the first man to walk into the inn and have that vision. You ain’t the first, and you won’t be the last. You’re a guest for the next few days, and I’m here to take care of whatever you need. But if you think you’re going to sit there and sweet talk me, acting like I don’t know what kind of player you are, you’re sorely mistaken.” She stood, and stacked the plates. “I’ve read the magazines and I know all about the women you leave in your wake. I don’t plan on being one of them. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
As she stormed out of the room, Cole went rigid, muscle to bone.
Ooh, the blood lurched through his veins now. No woman had ever stood up to him that way before. They were usually falling all over themselves, smiling ear to ear, leaning on his shoulder and playfully bumping him in the arm. He’d never been turned down. Never been denied when he’d wanted something.
This woman had fire, shutting down his advances before he’d had a chance to really lay on the charm.
Little did she know, there was nothing he loved more than a challenge.