A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2)

by Jennifer Probst

  Holy crap. This was a bleachable moment.

  Shuddering, he went back downstairs and made the food delivery order, grabbing one of the credit cards on file to pay. Then he called Crystal’s and booked the reservation for seven p.m., figuring he’d tell the Rileys later. When it was safe.

  “Oh, hi. Can I talk to Ophelia?”

  He bit back a sigh and smiled at the Porcinis—a younger, hip couple addicted to winter activities in the Hudson Valley. They were regular customers, and he knew Ophelia treated them like royalty from the detailed notes stored on her computer. “I’m sorry, Ophelia is sick. My name is Kyle. I’ll be happy to help you with anything you need until she’s better.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s not the flu.” The fit, attractive brunette frowned with worry along with her husband. “I’m so sorry, we don’t want to bother you.”

  “Not a bother. What can I do?”

  The husband—Ted—spoke up. “Ophelia set us up with a snowmobiling tour tomorrow. She said she’d pack us a special lunch for the day—I already told her to put it on our bill—but we’d like to go up early to the mountain to catch the sunrise. We wondered if we could have breakfast served a bit earlier than usual.”

  A bad feeling came over him. “How early?”

  “Five a.m. But if that’s an issue, we can skip it. We don’t want to stress her out if she’s sick.”

  Holy hell, how many personal requests did Ophelia take care of on a regular basis? No wonder she had so many repeat customers.

  She made everyone feel special, no matter who they were or what made them happy. Not many people had the type of gifts it takes to run a successful bed-and-breakfast.

  He needed to keep her high standards of service while she was out sick, so he manned up and swore he’d make it work. “No problem. I can have your breakfast ready early, and a lunch packed to go.”

  Ted shook his hand. “Thanks so much. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

  He watched the couple disappear, wincing at the still-too-loud men cheering in the main room. He realized it was going to be a long night.

  A very long night.

  He got back to work.

  On Sunday morning, Kyle looked at the kitchen. It looked like there had been an explosion in there. Pots and pans lined the sink, the dishwasher was already packed, and there were stacks of Tupperware half-filled with leftovers that needed to be sorted. Dirty silverware littered the counters. In the formal dining room, food was stuck on the carpets and empty cups were all over. Muddy footprints trekked through the hallways.

  Fuck, he was exhausted.

  He refilled his coffee and tried to rally. The guests were out for the day, so he just had to clean the kitchen. And the bedrooms. And the bathrooms. Aubrey planned to come back tomorrow.

  He just had to get through today. Maybe he’d even have time to take a quick nap.

  He’d slept in the chair in Ophelia’s room, and they’d both had a rough night. She’d gotten up a few times to be sick but finally fell into a deep sleep. He hoped the bad stuff was behind her. Of course, he’d been up before dawn to take care of the special breakfast and lunch he’d promised Ted. By the time that was done, some of the guys had drifted downstairs, sniffing around for food and coffee, and it was game on.

  It’d only been twenty-four hours, but he felt like he’d been working a week.

  This job was no joke. There was no way he’d be getting any writing done this weekend.

  He glanced at the clock. Time to give Ophelia the next round of meds. He heated up the kettle and fixed a cup of tea, another glass of water with lemon, and some dry toast. Rummaging through the cabinets, he found a tray and loaded it all up.

  Easing into Ophelia’s bedroom, he set the tray on the bureau, tiptoed to the bed, and leaned over.

  “Holy shit!” She jerked up in surprise.

  He jolted back, almost falling on his ass.

  Hair a mess of tangles sticking up around her head, skin still damp and flushed from the fever, a dirty T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, she blinked wildly like a night creature awakened by a predator. “You scared me,” she croaked out.

  “I think you scared me more.”

  She groaned and flopped back on the pillow. “Sorry, I was having some type of crazy dream. I got stuck in the Willy Wonka factory, and they were putting me through the taffy machine.”

  His lips twitched. “At least it’s better than the one you used to have.”

  A pained laugh escaped. “The one where I’m a female Ben Stiller in Zoolander and the only way to save the world is to walk the runway like a badass, but I trip and fall and rip my skirt and everyone sees me half-naked? Still have that one, too.”

  “Always wondered why you never wore underwear on the runway.”

  “I was a slut.”

  He laughed. “Every time you got stressed you’d wake up screaming from that dream.”

  “I’d rather be in a taffy machine than naked in front of a judging crowd.” Her smile was quickly wiped out by a fit of coughing.

  He moved toward the bed and laid a hand on her forehead. “Still warm. We should get you into some dry clothes. These are damp.”

  “Forget it. I know it’s just a plan to seduce me.”

  His lips twitched in a smile. “Baby, as much as I want to see you naked again, you’re too sick for even me to get excited. I’ll help get you into clean pj’s, and then you can try and eat some toast.”

  “I already told you not to call me that, and I can do it myself. I have to get back to work anyway.” She pointed to the bottom drawer. “Can you just grab me some sweats and a T-shirt?”

  He pulled out a cozy fleece set and watched her ease to the side of the bed, brows knit with determination. He tamped back a frustrated sigh. She was never one to surrender gracefully. The woman would fight with spit and sass till her dying breath.

  She slowly stood up, took a few steps, and floundered.

  “That’s it.” He swept her up into his arms, carried her to the bathroom, and set her gently back on her feet. “Turn around. I promise I won’t look.”

  The pallor of her skin and the glassiness of her eyes softened her mulish expression. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  She fell into another coughing fit, and he gently moved her so her back faced him. With quick, methodical motions, he lifted her shirt over her head and replaced it within seconds. Before she had time to protest, he’d already tugged her sweats over her hips, leaning down to gently untangle the fabric from her legs and replace them with the new pair. He made sure to keep his gaze firmly averted from the tiny scrap of black lace that covered her. Soon, she was fully dressed.

  He turned her back around. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right? Let’s get you back to bed.”

  He carried her back and propped her up on a few pillows. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and brought the mug of tea to her lips. She took a sip, closing her eyes with pleasure. “Thank you. That’s good.”

  “Welcome. Listen, you need to rest again today. You can’t work with a fever.”

  “How bad is it out there?” she asked, biting down on her lip. “Are the skiers a lot to handle? Is Aubrey coming back?”

  “The skiers are fine—nice guys. Aubrey’s coming tomorrow morning.”

  Her eyes widened with panic. “Oh my God, I have to clean ten rooms! I forgot she couldn’t make it today.”

  “I’ll do it. Here, drink more and take a few bites. Let’s see if this stays down.”

  She moaned through the motions of eating and drinking her tea. “This is a nightmare—do you know how to prep a room properly?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Clean it up and make the bed.”

  “Yes, but make sure everything is organized, and the bathroom is spotless, and the toilet paper and tissues are refilled. Use that vanilla-coconut scented spray if it’s a bit funky, and make sure you vacuum.”

  “Got it. Take more meds so you can get some sleep.�
�

  She swallowed her pill and coughed. Kyle could tell she had no energy. She lay limply back, barely able to keep her eyes open. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never meant for you to get stuck with all this.”

  He stroked her hair back from her forehead and dabbed some lingering crumbs from her lips with the napkin. “I could never be stuck with you,” he said quietly. “I like taking care of you.”

  “Don’t be nice to me,” she murmured. Her head lolled drunkenly as exhaustion overtook her.

  He pulled the covers up to her chin and edged the extra pillow to the side so she’d be more comfortable to sleep.

  “Why?”

  Her soft voice drifted to his ears in a caress. “Because I can’t fall for you again.”

  Then she closed her eyes and slept.

  Kyle stared at her for a long time, his heart squeezing in agony. God, he’d never wanted to hurt her. He wanted a second chance to heal her pain and prove she could trust him. It would be a long road ahead, but being able to help her this weekend was a first step.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and headed back to work.

  Five hours later, he collapsed on the couch. His muscles ached from bending over and scrubbing toilets, and the damn vacuum cleaner had gotten jammed up, so that took him over an hour to fix. The skiers were a bunch of slobs, and cleaning up their crap was a nightmare.

  But the inn was finally tidy and polished. The beds were all made. The kitchen was spotless. He’d booked a few reservations, updated the schedule, and baked some cookies for the afternoon snack.

  Thank God the evening would be clear.

  The guys would probably stay late at the lodge for dinner and drinks, and he’d confirmed the Rileys’ and Porcinis’ dinner reservations in town.

  Maybe he could sneak in an hour or two of writing before checking back on Ophelia. Or hell, maybe he should nap.

  He’d just set his computer up and opened his document when the front door flung open. Ten guys stomped in with their equipment and muddy boots, laughing and talking loudly.

  No.

  No, no, no . . .

  “Hey, dude! The mountain is shit—a bunch of ice. We spent all afternoon partying at the bar. We just want to hang the rest of the night.”

  “Let’s put on the game and chill. Should we order pizza?”

  “Nah, how about Mexican? Kyle, my man, can you help set us up?”

  “What’s that smell? Damn, are those cookies?”

  “I love cookies! Can we have them now, with some coffee? This place is the bomb!”

  All ten guys stared at him like puppy dogs, eager for the fun to begin.

  Son of a bitch. How had Ophelia and her mother made this job look so damn easy?

  Kyle stifled a groan and shut his laptop. He forced his lips into a happy innkeeper smile. “Sure. No problem. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Chapter Six

  Ophelia sat on the edge of her bed and moaned.

  What had she done?

  Opened her door to the enemy and allowed him full reign. After boldly claiming he’d never be welcome to stay, she had let Kyle take over the inn, tuck her in, give her meds, and wipe her brow. He’d slept in the chair the last two nights, refusing to leave in case she needed something, just like a caring husband.

  Ex-husband, she reminded herself. What a mess. Why couldn’t he have been a jerk?

  She’d expected him to be judgmental about her decision to take over her mother’s inn. God knows, for years he’d told her staying in their small town was a trap. He’d spun dreams of Hollywood fame and glory as the only route to true freedom.

  But not once had he said anything derogatory. Obviously, he cared about doing a good job, which was way more than she ever expected.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She looked up. He wore dark-wash jeans and a Tommy Hilfiger red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His golden hair was tousled. The scruff hugging his mouth and jaw was a bit rough and piratelike, giving him a sexy, dangerous look.

  His deep-green eyes met her gaze and pulled her in; his lush lashes only added to the shocking intensity of contrasting color. He leaned against the doorframe, the denim stretching tight over his powerful thighs, arms crossed over his broad chest. He simmered with masculine energy and a delicious potency that made her glad she was sitting down. Her body zinged to life after a long starvation period. She tried to beat it back into complacency and cleared her throat.

  “Much better.”

  He strode in with a panther’s grace and rested the back of his palm on her cheek. “Fever broke,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled appearance. “Still holding down the tea and toast?”

  “Yes. I think I’m past the worst of it. I took a shower, and I’m ready to get back to work. I can’t believe it’s Monday. I missed the whole weekend.”

  His golden brows slammed together. “Don’t push too hard. I’ve already handled breakfast, checked out the Rileys and Porcinis, and confirmed what time Aubrey is coming to prep rooms. It looks like your next guests arrive tomorrow, so you should be able to have a light day.”

  She blinked, trying to gather her composure. “You did all that already?”

  “Yes, and I’ve got a new appreciation for your job. I had no idea guests could be so demanding.”

  His rough admission softened her resolve to be distant. “Still no issues with the skiers?”

  “Like guys at a frat house on vacation. Good guys, though—just needed to keep on top of them. They almost broke that antique lamp thing in the dining room. Guess they thought it was a good idea to test their strength by body-slamming one another. Or maybe it was just the beer.”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotten a lot of practice at being a den mother plus hostess plus substitute mom.”

  She moved to the edge of the bed, but he suddenly kneeled in front of her.

  “I don’t want you to overdo it. You don’t handle being sick well,” he said.

  A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Hey, I’m nothing compared to you. Remember the ‘man cold’ incident?”

  He winced. “It wasn’t just a cold. It was the swine flu. I could have died.”

  Her smile widened. “You stayed in bed for three days and never had a fever or a sniffle.”

  “Your memory is selective. I threw up.”

  A giggle burst from her throat. “You gagged twice and proclaimed yourself deathly ill. You made me give you a bell!”

  He looked affronted. “It was the only way I could be sure you knew if I needed something.”

  “Oh, I knew all right. You rang that damn thing a million times, asking for water, the remote, an extra pillow, fluffier blankets, tissues—”

  “Worked fine until you broke it,” he grumbled.

  “You mean when I threw it against the wall and declared your sick days over? Best decision I ever made.”

  “Some caretaker you were.”

  They grinned at each other. He reached out and touched her cheek, but this time it wasn’t to test her temperature. “God, I’ve missed your smile.”

  Her breath strangled in her chest. She tried to rally her defenses and stiffened, pulling back.

  His hand dropped, and he stood back up.

  Why did he look so regretful and pained? He had no right. No right to make her feel such things after she’d locked them tightly away and thrown away the key.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze and say the words. “Well, thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “Thank you for letting me.”

  She eased to her feet, relieved her legs held well. “I’m sure you have a lot of writing to catch up on, and you probably haven’t slept well. I’ll text Ethan and let him know you’re on your way back and—”

  “Ophelia, let me stay.”

  She froze. The soft words wrapped around her like a cocoon, squeezing away her resistance.

  He stepped in front of her, hands raised in surr
ender. “I know you don’t want me here, but I’m asking again. I promise you can set the rules, and I’ll respect your privacy.” A touch of misery wound through his voice. “I feel bad about Hei Hei hating me, and Mia seeing me naked, and not being able to work. If I can just get one room, I’ll write my script and stay out of your hair. I swear.”

  Dammit.

  Ethan’s and Mia’s pleas from last week mingled with Kyle’s in her mind. She closed her eyes, trying to think.

  How could she keep saying no? Even though Ethan was at fault for lying, she couldn’t let them go on like this. Plus, he’d taken care of her.

  The memory hit hard: him tucking her in, feeding her toast, smoothing her brow, changing her clothes. He’d treated her with a tenderness and care that couldn’t be faked.

  God knows, it brought up an array of emotions she didn’t want to explore. Plus, he’d taken care of the inn with respect and proficiency—giving up his own time to write. Three months. One room.

  She could structure a daily agenda to make sure she stayed away from him, especially if he was writing all the time. He tended to immerse himself in a project and disappear. If that still held true, the weeks could fly by painlessly. He’d spend time with Ethan, and she had guests to be her buffer in case her body did something stupid like get all melty and hot for some good old-fashioned, ex-lover sex.

  Three months. One room. Then he’d be officially out of her life.

  She prayed she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  “Fine. You can stay.”

  “Thank you.”

  His sweet smile made her breath hitch. She’d always loved his smile. With his dimple, burnished hair tumbling over his forehead, and vivid green eyes, he reminded her of a fallen angel. Too bad she knew he was really the devil.

  She reminded herself she had to stay strong or he’d find a secret tunnel and slink under the solid wall she’d built around her heart. “But there are rules. If you break them, you’re out of here.”

  “Got it. I’m listening.”

  “Do you want to go grab your stuff first, before you get settled?”

  He shot her a sheepish grin. “Ethan already dropped my luggage off. I’d texted to let him know you were better, and he packed up my shit. He must have figured you were going to let me move in. Guess he was a bit overeager.”