Inn the Doghouse

by Heather Horrocks

  She wrapped her arms around herself again. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Or we can keep driving by, stalker-like,” I suggested helpfully.

  “I’m tempted,” Liz said with a shaky laugh. “But take me home. You’re right. He’s never upset the next day. I’ll apologize tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunday, November 13

  RETURNING HOME AFTER CHURCH, I followed Liz and Zach into the Inn. We had half our rooms rented this weekend, and guests were outside, as well as scattered throughout the common areas: the exercise room, the Mayor’s Parlor, and the arboretum.

  “I’ll fix us some dinner,” I quietly told Liz and Zach, because I didn’t intend to provide anything for the guests other than some cookies, milk, and fruit. I headed toward the main floor kitchen.

  Liz waved and took Zach’s hand. “We’re going to the dungeon to change out of our church clothes.”

  I rolled my eyes and said, for the hundredth time, “It’s not a dungeon.”

  Zach called over his shoulder, “Mom, can I finish making the skeleton?” He meant the decoration I purchased a few weeks ago, which he just found again this morning.

  “Sure, baby.”

  I pushed through the saloon doors—surprised to find someone standing there! I jumped, my heart racing, before I realized it was David.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked, stretching out a hand to steady me before I stumbled into the counter behind me.

  “Yes,” I gasped, my hand to my heart, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Because you are not included in my will.”

  “No? That’s strange. Usually, women write me in within a couple of weeks. You must have extraordinary powers of resistance.” He smiled. “And don’t worry. If you did have a heart attack after going to church, I’m sure you’d go straight to heaven. How was church, anyway?”

  “Uplifting. You should try it sometime instead of breaking and entering to cook unsuspecting people delicious dinners.” I lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you ever go home anymore? To your home? Not mine, I mean.”

  “Nah.” He grinned. “Your kitchen’s way cooler than mine.”

  “Spoken like a true, trained chef, I suppose.”

  “This place is incredible. And it belongs to a woman who barely knows what a colander is.” He tsked loudly and shook his head. “That is a real shame.”

  David was teaching me how to prepare some delicious meals. The quality of my breakfasts had already picked up, and I was learning some dinner tricks, too. I still needed to hire a cook for the dinners, though. There were too many other tasks to add cooking for that many people twice a day. I’d be lucky to get everything else done. “You are aware that you’re putting in lots more hours than I can afford to pay you for.”

  “Helping you out pro bono is my way of getting into heaven.”

  I laughed. “It will probably work. Your meals are definitely heavenly.”

  He nodded smugly. “I know. Thanks.”

  I laughed again. “What I like most about you is your incredible humility.”

  “When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.” He cracked a grin.

  “Thanks for the cooking lessons. For some strange reason, bed-and-breakfast guests expect good food.”

  “Glad I could help you get beyond your obsession with eggs. You were like Forrest Gump. Scrambled egg. Omelets. Egg gumbo.”

  “You have a recipe for egg gumbo?” I teased.

  He grew serious as he studied my dress.

  “What?” I looked down, wondering if I’d spilled something on it already.

  “You look really nice today, Ms. Butler.”

  “Why, thank you,” I said self-consciously, a blush heating my cheeks. “You do, too.”

  “What? These old rags?” he teased as he motioned to his jeans and apron that again today demanded Kiss the Cook.

  “You’re wearing the same one,” I teased back.

  He held it up to read the words, as a slow grin appeared. “It’s my lucky apron.”

  He took a step closer and his voice grew husky. “In fact, I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.”

  My eyes widened as he stopped just inches away. I looked up into his warm eyes. My mouth went dry as I realized we were in the same positions we were in two weeks ago when we nearly kissed before getting interrupted. “Lucky?” I managed to get out.

  “Very,” he whispered.

  I held my breath as he leaned in even closer.

  When the saloon doors to the kitchen slammed open, we both jumped.

  Déjà freaking vu. My heart slamming in my chest, I turned as Zach ran into the room. “Hey, Mom. David. Look what I just did.”

  David caught my gaze and smile crinkles appeared by his eyes. He whispered to me, “Your son has incredible timing.” He grinned, shrugged, and turned back to Zach. “Hey, buddy. What have you got there?”

  “A skeleton.”

  Would we ever get to actually kiss? I started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny, Mom?”

  I waved a hand and leaned over, suddenly unable to stop laughing.

  David said, “Sometimes your mother is just weird. I think she’ll get over it.”

  “I hope so,” Zach said seriously. “Because she looks really funny like that.”

  And that, of course, resulted in me sliding down the cupboard door until my rear end touched the floor.

  Zach came close to me and leaned over, holding up the hanging skeleton. “Can you see?”

  I chuckled. “Yes. I can see.”

  Satisfied, Zach said, “Don’t you think it’s spooky cool?”

  I said, “Spooky cool. Definitely.”

  A kiss from David was even spookier. Spooky only in the sense that it scared me to think about going there.

  “I think she needs help getting up,” Zach said.

  David came over, and leaned down. He held out a hand.

  I took it and let him haul me to my feet. For an instant, I pressed against him before leaping back. He held my hand a moment longer than necessary.

  “Mom, try not to be so weird, okay?” Zach said.

  David nodded solemnly. “Seriously.”

  I shook my head. “Since you fixed dinner, I’d like to invite you to Sunday dinner.”

  “Very gracious of you,” David said. “I accept. Graciously.”

  “And now I need to go change.”

  “Into something more comfortable, I hope.” David smiled.

  With a wave, I sailed out of the kitchen.

  I absolutely had to hire a different cook. David said he’d handle all the interviews. I decided I’d better take him up on it. The more he was around me, the more natural it felt to have him here all the time, and the more I looked forward to his visits.

  But things were moving much too fast for me. I was being yanked out of my comfort zone. I needed a distraction from my handsome chef. Maybe keep our lips in different houses for awhile.

  ~ ~ ~

  Monday, November 14

  I had to admit I was glad to have the Inn all to myself the next day. Well, as much to myself as a person could get in a bed-and-breakfast in the mid afternoon. I just wanted to snuggle by a fire someplace and read one of my mystery novels. But I still had too much to do.

  My son caught the school bus hours ago.

  Most of the guests had a hearty breakfast before checking out. The remaining guests—the two German couples—went sightseeing for the day in nearby Park City and Salt Lake City. Liz drove to Park City to answer more questions from the Sheriff’s Department, and adamantly refused to let me go with her. DeWayne did not answer any of her calls. What was up with that, anyway? Kent and Cielo were busy with the maintenance and cleaning. David, thank goodness, was at his own place for a change, so I could distract myself with my own comfort-zone thoughts. I was occupied for the time being checking my business emails and reservations to see what to prepare for the coming week.

  Cie
lo came from the exercise room, pushing the rolling shelved unit, loaded with towels and linens. She had the big, cream-colored, fluffy towels for every room but the Kinsey Millhone; which only used the royal blue towels, keeping true to that room’s novel, G is for Gumshoe.

  She was headed for the elevator, but when she saw me, she came over. “I’ve already done the rooms on the second floor. These are for the third floor.”

  Her English sounded charming with her sexy Italian accent. She always reminded me of Sophia Loren—luscious, gorgeous, and beautiful.

  “Great,” I said. “You’re making good time.”

  “My grandson’s birthday party is later today and Kent and I have to leave early to go.”

  “Tell Kari hi for me. I can’t believe her baby is two already.”

  “Sì. Anch’io. Me, too.”

  Kent came in, shucking off his jacket. He shivered once. “It’s getting cold out there. Barely above freezing today.”

  Kent’s hair was as red as Cielo’s was raven. At five-foot-ten, he was lean with corded muscles that were amazingly strong. I’d often seen him lift things that I guessed couldn’t be lifted by one person, yet he did so with ease. He preferred wearing jeans and sweatshirts in the winter, with the sweatshirts usually in a dark blue or gray.

  He grinned at his wife. “Let me help you with that.”

  “No making out in the elevator,” I teased.

  Going back to my computer, I had a full weekend coming up. I needed to buy more food. I’d gotten about halfway through the menus David left me, and was figuring how many times the recipe had to be doubled, when Liz returned home, with puffy eyes.

  “How did it go?” I asked, my stomach churning.

  “I’ve been told not to leave town. They asked how much I inherited, and where I was the night of the murder, and all sorts of other questions that made it painfully obvious they officially consider me a prime suspect now.”

  “Oh, Liz, no.”

  She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s too depressing.”

  “What would you rather talk about?”

  “No DeWayne, either. That’s too depressing.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She sighed. “Who still hasn’t answered any of my calls.”

  Apparently, she really wanted to talk about DeWayne. “What is wrong with him?”

  She came behind the semicircular counter and pulled up a stool next to me. “I really upset him.”

  “It’s only been two days. He’ll get over it.” I hoped. I worried why he wasn’t taking her calls. This had never happened during the entirety of their on-again-off-again relationship. Ever.

  “Vicki, he’s never done this before. Even when I was married to Gene, if I ever needed anything from him, he always answered. Or returned my calls very quickly.” She looked at me, with sincere concern in her eyes. “I’m worried about what he might do.”

  “He’s not going to do anything stupid. DeWayne’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

  “I finally left a message for him.” She sighed.

  “What did you say?”

  “That I was sorry about what I said, and I did care about him, but I wanted to apologize in person.”

  We heard a vehicle pull around to the rear entrance.

  “Are you expecting guests today?” Liz asked, hope illuminating her face as she went toward the back door. It could be DeWayne, as he always pulled into the rear and parked with the rest of the family.

  Before she got around the counter, the door opened and Paul walked through. Not DeWayne.

  “Wonder if Paul’s still mad at us?” Liz whispered to me.

  Paul was frowning as he walked closer. “What are you felons planning to do today?”

  Liz waved a hand. “Oh, rob a bank or two this afternoon.”

  “I figured as much.” He leaned on the counter. “You seem to be specializing in stupid decisions lately.”

  I stared at him, hard. “And you taught us our lesson already, so back off.”

  He looked surprised.

  “Have you heard anything else from DeWayne?” asked Liz.

  Paul nodded, but seemed reluctant to share the news. “He called last night.”

  “And you didn’t call us?” I said accusingly. “I thought you were going to give us updates.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think he wanted it advertised yesterday.”

  “How about today?” Liz asked.

  Paul leaned against the counter. “Deputy Smith requested the week off.”

  Liz and I exchanged glances. In unison, we asked, “Why?”

  “I didn’t ask and he didn’t say.”

  “You’re killing me, Smalls,” I said, quoting a line from The Sandlot. “Ask DeWayne what he’s doing, for Pete’s sake. Or is he working on solving the murder?”

  Paul shook his head.

  “Will you please tell me where he is?” Liz asked. “I really need to talk to him.”

  Paul looked at her and softened his voice. Gently, he told her, “I think he prefers not to talk right now. Especially to you.”

  Liz’s chin trembled and she nodded. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll see you guys later.” And she went back downstairs.

  “Is she all right?” Paul asked.

  “That isn’t helping. I’m worried about her.”

  “Me, too.”

  “And I’m worried about DeWayne,” I said.

  “DeWayne can take care of himself.”

  “He needs to know she cares about him.”

  “Then she should leave a message.”

  “She did.”

  Paul shrugged. “Then he knows.”

  I heard the school bus pull up in front. A moment later, Zach ran inside. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Uncle Paul. Can we go to the pet store now?”

  I reminded Zach, “We’re going later with David.”

  “He’s certainly got Robert’s persistence,” Paul said, grabbing his nephew up in a hug.

  “He certainly does.” I smiled at my brother and my son, even though I was horribly worried about my twin sister.

  And DeWayne. What on earth was the big loveable doof up to? I had a bad feeling about this.

  ~ ~ ~

  After a short nap, Liz got some color back into her cheeks. She felt so good, in fact, that when David showed up to take us to the pet store, she told me, “I’m going to track down DeWayne. This is getting ridiculous.”

  “Good idea,” I said, watching David—all six-feet-whatever gorgeousness of him—climb out of a snazzy, new black car I never saw him drive before. He was buttoning his jacket in the crisp breeze and stomping his way through the inch of fresh snow covering the ground toward the Inn. The snow stopped sometime during the night, and the clouds were clearing away to a beautiful, blue sky that created a breathtaking view of the valley below.

  The new car made me wonder how much money David earned as a reporter. I knew I was paying him a mere pittance as a chef. He would have had to ride up on a tricycle if he were living off the small salary he got from me.

  Zach wrapped his arms around my waist and I squeezed his little shoulder to bring him closer to my side, as I glanced down at him. His hair was too long. Again, as always.

  Our hair was identical today, but we were not wearing identical outfits. We both wore jeans, but hers were designer and mine weren’t. She rolled the sleeves of her vermilion, button-down shirt up her forearms. I wore a dark green T-shirt proclaiming Laugh Yourself to Death at the Who-Dun-Him Inn. I’d only received the shipment of shirts a few days before, and hadn’t had a chance to pull them out and decide which ones I’d use as gifts and which ones I’d sell. I still needed to choose a pretty shelving unit for the area by the check-in desk to display the T-shirts and the candles, custom-made for me by Holly Cummins of our local Candle with Care.

  David studied my T-shirt. “I like it. I hope you have some for the kitchen help. In blue.”

  “Yours
is hanging in the kitchen.” I smiled. “It is blue.” I also ordered a more manly apron for him that stressed the benefits of duct tape, but I intended to save that for another day.

  Liz motioned to his vehicle. “Aren’t you too liberal to be driving a politically incorrect sports-car-slash-SUV?”

  David just laughed. “I double dare you to stereotype me.”

  “It’s not easy,” I said. “You’re like a California free spirit who feels driven to excel in his career of news reporting, but must take a break here and there by cooking gourmet meals.”

  Liz shook her head. “No. I’ve got you pegged. You vote Democrat. Definitely. Way, way left of Utah. And you probably…” She paused, as if trying to think of something liberal enough to describe him.

  Before she could come up with anything, David flashed us a grin. “I make it a rule never to discuss politics with pretty ladies—or anything at all with attorneys. But how about them Jazz?”

  He had learned that particular catch phrase quickly. I laughed at his mention of our state’s basketball team. Unlike the BYU vs. U of U rivalry, everyone cheered for the Utah Jazz.

  Liz pulled her keys out. “Catch you later,” she said as she opened the door into the breeze, and walked briskly toward her silver Lexus.

  Zach took off running toward David’s car. “Cool car!”

  “Be careful!” I called out.

  He stopped in front of the sleek, black car.

  I studied the obviously brand-new vehicle. “Buy a new car?”

  He gave a casual shrug. “It was such a good deal, I couldn’t refuse. I’ve been wanting one of the new Dodge Chargers ever since they came out. I requested All Wheel Drive because of the road conditions on Porter Mountain.” He flashed me a mischievous look. “I do a lot more driving on Porter Mountain than I previously anticipated.”

  I flushed as he opened the back door for Zach and the front door for me. I slid onto a comfortable leather seat.

  As David climbed into the driver’s seat, Zach said, “Wow. I love it.”

  David turned back. “Thanks, buddy. Now make sure you’re buckled up.”

  “Okay,” my son said cheerfully, unlike the usual grumble I received whenever I voiced the same caveat.