A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2)

by Jennifer Probst

  Seemed like Devon had already staked her claim.

  The other guests—young marrieds, a thirty-something couple who loved to ski but hated staying at the large resident lodges—had just finished up and were headed back to Windham’s slopes for the day. Devon dragged her chair as close as possible next to Kyle and engaged him in lively conversation, stopping intermittently to touch his arm or rest a palm on his knee as she pretended to laugh. Seemed she was a makeup expert who was well known on YouTube and had written some pieces for Glamour. She had the nerve to ask if she could interview him for a feature on how to rock the scruffy look with style.

  Ophelia couldn’t tell if she was more pained or amused by the whole exchange.

  “How about I bring home dinner after the festival tonight?” Devon suggested, as if it were a brilliant idea that had just occurred to her. “That way you can work all day and give yourself a break later on.”

  A frown furrowed his brow. “Aren’t you going out with your friend?” He forked up another piece of bacon, seemingly in a happy fugue state from the giant breakfast Ophelia had served.

  Devon nibbled on a piece of toast and tried not to look miserable at the thought of carbs entering her pure body.

  “Oh no. She has plans. I’ll be all alone and would really love the company. How does sushi sound?”

  “More coffee?” Ophelia cut in.

  “Yes, please. This is an unbelievable spread, Ophelia. Isn’t she amazing?” he asked Devon.

  “Oh yeah. She is.” Devon shoved the piece of toast in her mouth and chewed. “So good. I hate women who turn down food just because they think they’re fat.”

  “Right? I agree,” he said, totally clueless.

  “We have so much in common. I’ll come to your room at seven p.m.”

  He shook his head. “What? Oh. No, sorry. I can’t do dinner tonight.”

  “Of course you can! You need some downtime. Refill the well, right?”

  “I have plans. I’m dining with a . . . friend.”

  “Oh, okay. Maybe we can catch a drink beforehand.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure. I better get to work.” He got up, carrying his plates and heading toward the kitchen. “Have a great time at the festival.”

  Ophelia clamped down a grin when she saw the furious expression on Devon’s face. She followed him to the kitchen, where he stood in front of the sink. He grabbed the sponge.

  “You don’t have to clean up,” she said. “I got it.”

  “No, you’ve done enough this morning. Let me.”

  With his tight ass cupped in jeans and a soapy sponge in his hand doing dishes, the scene was total porn. Her knees grew a bit weak. “Thanks. Who are you having dinner with tonight?” she asked.

  “No one. Just not her.”

  Pleasure shot through her. “Not interested, huh?”

  He gave her a stunned look. “Are you kidding me? Definitely not my type.”

  “Oh yeah? What is your type?”

  He gave a low laugh, moving the sponge in perfect circles. “Not someone with perfectly manicured fingernails. I like a woman who knows how to get dirty and messy.”

  Laughter bubbled inside. She glanced at her own hands, which hadn’t seen polish in years. “Hmm, interesting. What else?”

  “Let’s see . . . a woman who doesn’t agree with everything I say. That gets old. I prefer a challenge.”

  “Does a woman who calls you a controlling asshole count as a challenge?”

  “Definitely. That just turns me on.”

  She cocked her hip and pursed her lips. “You are definitely an odd man. Anything else?”

  “I do have a fetish not many can satisfy.”

  “Hmm. Fetish, huh? I hope it’s not feet. That’s just wrong.”

  “Nope. Freckles. I love freckles scattered across pale skin. They’re like a Picasso painting I can’t stop staring at.”

  Pleasure flushed her cheeks. “More like paint-by-number, but I won’t judge.”

  “Then there’s sex.”

  She stilled. Her heart beat madly in her chest. “Sex?”

  “I have certain needs that many would find difficult to satisfy.”

  An image floated past her vision. His body pressed over hers, his tongue diving deep into her mouth with a tender fierceness that shook her to the core. He’d always had an insatiable appetite in the bedroom. Their sex life had never been an issue—it had, in fact, kept the fragments of their relationship together longer than she imagined possible.

  “Kinky stuff?” she asked.

  “More like particular. I need a woman who’s able to handle me.”

  Her gaze dropped. “Cocky much?”

  “I need the scent of lavender and honey in my nostrils, and the sweet taste of her essence sticky on my lips. I need to look into blistering blue eyes and know I belong to her.”

  Her vision misted over. She swayed on her feet. He turned off the sink, dried his hands with slow, deliberate motions, and faced her. “I need to slide into her sweet body and be welcomed home. Touch her body and make her moan. I need a woman strong enough to let me fall apart in her arms, then put me back together. Do you understand, Ophelia?”

  She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her entire body was on fire, nerves on edge, ready to explode. His raw words stroked her ears—and between her legs.

  “Ophelia? Do you understand?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  “Good. Then you know why I’m not interested in Devon.” He gave her a naughty wink and spun on his heel. “Gotta get to work on that saggy middle. Catch you later.”

  He left her flushed, off-kilter, and practically throbbing with need.

  Bastard.

  Damn, she was crazy about him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I need your help.”

  Harper barged through the door, her features set in familiar determination. Ophelia stared at her sister—and at the dog she held in her arms. The once-black shepherd had flecks of gray in his coat, face, and whiskers. His fur was streaked with mud. There was an ugly patch of dried skin toward his rear. His brown eyes rose briefly to meet hers, then quickly dropped.

  It was too late, though. She’d already glimpsed the weariness. This dog had seen hard times and was starting to check out.

  Ophelia reached out and petted his head with soothing strokes, heart squeezing with sympathy. “Where’d you find him?”

  “In the woods. He was half-starved, probably dumped. I took him to the vet. Thankfully there’s nothing wrong with him other than dehydration and his paw. I already have ointment for his dry patches.”

  “What’s wrong with the paw?”

  “An old injury that never healed. He limps, but the vet said it’s nothing she’d fix at his age. I need to get him a bath, some decent food, and a warm place to sleep.”

  “Are you bringing him over to Ethan’s? I have some spare blankets and bowls. What else do you need?”

  “I need you to keep him here.”

  Ophelia stepped back and put her hands up. “What? You know the rules! I can’t take any animals at the inn. Too many guests have allergies.”

  Desperation slowly replaced the determination on her sister’s face. “You have to help me out for a little while. I tried to take him to my place, but he began thrashing and howling and totally freaked when he saw my other dogs. Then I tried Ethan’s house, but he was terrified of Hei Hei and Wheezy. I don’t know what happened, but he needs to be in a place with no other animals.”

  “What about the vet? Sarah takes them in when we have trouble.”

  “Sarah’s booked up because of the winter. The other kennel I work with is also overcrowded. I made a bunch of calls, and all of them were dead ends. He needs our help, Ophelia.”

  She groaned and shook her head. “I can’t! I don’t even have a decent room to keep him in. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

  “So we’ll just let him go back into the woods?” Harper threw out, anger threading her voice. �
�It’s just a stray mutt, right? Who cares?”

  She didn’t rise to the bait, knowing this was a sensitive spot with her sister. Every animal meant something special to her, and she swore never to let one suffer if it crossed her path. A great philosophy, but a bit hard to put into practice. Every spare inch of their farm already held homeless animals.

  “I care,” she said softly. “I’m just saying I can’t because of the business I run. There’s some guests here who are a bit demanding right now. As much as I’d like to, I can’t kick them out.”

  Harper sagged in defeat. She pressed a kiss to the dog’s head as if apologizing. “I’m all out of options. Is there anyone you can think of who doesn’t have any pets and can take in a stray, at least until I’m able to line up something else?”

  The answer came in a blinding flash.

  Oh no—could she? Would he flip out? Then again, if she insisted and brought over all the supplies, how could he say no? It’d only be temporary, a few days at most.

  “Actually, I think I do,” she said slowly. “But it can only be for a week maximum.”

  “That’s all I need! I’ll find him a more permanent place—I just need more time.”

  Ophelia sighed. “Can you get him in my car?”

  “Yes. Where are you taking him?”

  She grabbed her coat and shot her sister a look. “Don’t ask. Just be grateful I care as much as I do.”

  “I owe you, big-time!”

  Ophelia grabbed some old blankets, rummaged in the cabinets for some bowls, and headed to the car. The poor lab was in the back seat, curled up next to Harper. Her sister was staring at her cell phone screen with obvious tension.

  “What’s the matter?” Ophelia asked.

  “I’m so sorry—what a crap day. One of my rescues is having an issue. I have to get to the barns.”

  “Go. I can handle this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Go.”

  Harper eased the dog on top of one of the blankets, making a cozy nest for him on the floor. “Thanks.”

  After Harper climbed out, Ophelia began to drive, making sure she kept talking in a low, calming voice. “The ride is only a few minutes down the road,” she told him. “I’m taking a risk, but at least you’ll have shelter and food. The quality of the company I can’t promise you will be great.”

  Finally, she got to Patrick’s house. She picked up the poor dog, who was shaking, and knocked on the door.

  When he opened it, he glanced at her with surprise. “Did you bring more food?” The hopeful glint in his eyes faded when he spotted the dog in her arms. “What the hell is that?” he boomed out, making the poor dog cringe.

  She frowned. “Lower your voice. I need you to do me a favor.”

  His eyes widened, and he backed up, shaking his head. “I’m not taking in a dog. I can barely take care of myself. Have you gone crazy, girl?”

  “Probably,” she muttered. She kicked the door closed with her heel and walked inside the house. “Look, it’s just for a few days. We found him in the woods, half-starved. He’s been to the vet so we know he’s not sick or contagious. He hates other animals, though, so Ethan can’t take him and Harper can’t take him. The vet’s place is full and, basically, if you don’t take him, he’s going to die out there in the cold.”

  He glowered at her, then spit out a few vicious curses. “No.”

  “You don’t need any more crap on your soul, Patrick,” she warned. “Didn’t AA talk about amends?”

  “To people I hurt—not stray dogs!”

  “Think of it as an analogy. Or a simile . . . I’m not sure.”

  Patrick studied the dog. “It’s old as dirt. Probably will die soon anyway.”

  “You’re old as dirt and you’re still here. How would you feel if someone said that to you?”

  He just grunted, looking stubborn.

  “Look, by helping this stray dog, you’re gaining someone’s forgiveness.”

  “Whose?” he growled, glaring at her.

  “Mine. Okay, me. I’ll forgive you. Clean slate. Just take the dog.”

  More cursing. He started to pace. “I have nothing here. What if he shits?”

  “He probably will, but I’ll head into town right now and get you the supplies you need. I already have blankets and bowls. Will you do this for me?”

  “Fuck.”

  “Thank you!” She placed the dog on the couch and hurriedly backed up. “Just be nice to him. I’ll be back soon with the supplies.”

  “Three days!”

  “Five.”

  “Fuck.”

  She shot him a brilliant smile. “I’ll be right back.” Then she took off like Danica Patrick on the racetrack before he could change his mind.

  A few hours later, she climbed out of the shower, exhausted. It had taken forever to get the dog set up at Patrick’s and convince him it would be okay. Then Margo and Devon came home early from the festival with a whole bunch of requests before retiring to their rooms to get dressed to go out for the night. The ski couple had also returned, wanting to chill in the main room by the fireplace and order takeout. She’d taken care of business, spent some time doing bills since it was the end of the month, and had finally been able to crash. Kyle was over at Ethan’s after putting in a full day’s work—he probably needed to blow off some steam.

  Clad in her comfy yoga pants and oversize flannel shirt, she dried her hair until it was damp, then twisted it into a topknot. She slipped her feet into pink fuzzy slippers and went into the kitchen to pull together a mishmash of leftovers for dinner.

  She had a hot date with the television and some yummy carbs.

  Singing low, she made herself some cheese and crackers, poured herself some white wine, and settled in with one of her favorite classic movies, Moonstruck.

  She must’ve fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes the movie was over and it was almost eleven p.m. Yawning, she got up and stretched, then took her plate and empty glass into the kitchen.

  The main lights were out, and the place was quiet.

  Hmm, maybe the girls had come back early?

  She’d left the porch and foyer lights on. She wondered if Kyle was home, too. Biting her lip, she fought the impulse to go upstairs and knock on his door, casually ask him how Ethan and Mia were—even though they lived on the same property and she saw them practically every day.

  Dear God, it was time to admit it.

  She wanted a booty call.

  Shaking her head, she went to the front door to check the locks when she heard a door bang upstairs. Moving to the stairs, she strained her ears.

  Had he just come in?

  Didn’t matter. She couldn’t stage a seduction dressed in her current outfit. She snorted and started walking back to her room, but she heard the faint creak of the steps. She turned her head to look back and see who was coming down when Kyle suddenly flew around the corner, grabbed her hand, and dragged her inside the bedroom.

  “What the . . . ?”

  “Save me,” he muttered, quietly closing the door tight. He leaned his back against the hard wood, his face etched in the lines of male wariness. “She’s scary as hell. Don’t let her get near me.”

  Recognition shot through her. “Are you talking about Devon?”

  “Hell yeah. She knocked on my door, but I was trying to get some work done so I didn’t answer. Then she started whispering things that made me uncomfortable, begging me to let her in. It was like a bad vampire movie. I had to make a run for it. What if she picked the lock?”

  She bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. “Oh my God. I cannot believe she tried knocking on your door.”

  “I know. I even told her I was married!”

  Ophelia blew out an annoyed breath. “I should say something to her. This is ridiculous.”

  “No!” His arm shot out to block her. “She’ll be gone tomorrow. You don’t need her torturing you for the next few hours. I’ll just sleep in here. So you can keep
me safe.”

  “Hmm. You think that’s a good idea?”

  His eyes roved over her disheveled state, hungrily taking in the thrust of her breasts and the curve of her ass. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if she was in sweats with her hair in a topknot and no makeup on her face. Suddenly, the way those forest-green eyes lit up like fire made her feel like a goddess.

  “Definitely.”

  Desire flared deep and hot in her belly. “What about your work?”

  He rubbed his head as if considering something. “You know, I’ve been having some trouble writing these love scenes. Maybe some inspiration is in order.”

  Amusement danced through her. “Sure you don’t want Devon to inspire you?” she teased. “Her hands were all over you this morning at breakfast.”

  He pushed away from the door and placed his hands on his hips. The soft cotton fabric of his T-shirt stretched over those drool-worthy muscles. His hair was mussed. His jaw stubbled. His gray sweats had a hole in the knee. His male hotness made her knees wobble. “I told you she wasn’t the woman I wanted.” He paused, his gaze fastened on her mouth. “Were you jealous?”

  “Did you want me to be?” she threw back at him.

  A smile touched his lips. “Maybe a little. You’re completely hot when you’re pissed and possessive.”

  Sexual tension flared and pulsed between them. Her nipples strained against the cotton of her shirt. Already, her thighs were trembling with pure need. She thought about Devon sliding her hands over her husband’s thigh, and the light of lust she’d seen in her eyes. On cue, a rush of possessiveness flooded Ophelia.

  “I didn’t like her hands on you,” she confessed.

  “Why?”

  The challenge hung between them. She waited for him to close the distance and take control. Reassure her. Kiss her. Touch her.

  But he wasn’t budging. He rocked back on his heels, waiting for her answer, like they had all the time in the world.

  Frustration nipped. “Because I didn’t like it,” she repeated.

  His voice was a deep rumble of sound. “Gotta tell me why. I can’t always be the one chasing you and taking.”

  She sucked in her breath. Those eyes burned like a forest fire. His relaxed stance hid a fine-tuned tension that stiffened his muscles and carved out the lines of his face. He reminded her of a predator gone still, waiting patiently to jump on his prey until he was sure it was time.