Her Unexpected Detour (Checkerberry Inn)

by Kyra Jacobs

  Kayla dialed Tommy’s number and tried to discreetly lean as far away from Brent as possible. Between the soothing, dark interior of his truck and that clean yet spicy aftershave of his, it was a struggle to stay focused. Especially after watching his hips rise off the seat so he could slide a hand into his front right pocket for the phone. That combination had sent her imagination down an entirely different path, one that had nothing to do with cell phones or little brother mechanics.

  Get it together, she ordered herself as another ring went by with no answer.

  “This is Tommy.”

  Kayla breathed a sigh of relief and pushed Brent and his hip strength from her mind. “Tommy, it’s me. I—”

  “Kay? I thought you were on your way home. And what’s with the crazy number?”

  She snuck a quick glance at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scowly, whose gaze was trained on the windshield. “Yeah, well, my cell isn’t picking up a signal out here, so I had to borrow someone else’s. And I was on my way home, but that stupid detour got me all turned around. Then I hit a slick spot and zoop! My car slid right off the road.”

  “And into a fence post I just replaced,” grumbled Brent.

  “Oh my God,” Tommy cried. “Are you all right? Is the Impala okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. The Imp, though, well, she’s not budging.”

  Tommy cursed under his breath. “All right, let me call you a tow. My friend Jimmy owes me a favor, anyway. Just tell me where you are and I’ll send him over.”

  “Where I am?”

  Kayla looked out at the bleak, frozen landscape and frowned. She didn’t have a clue as to where she was. A quick scan of the countryside for something to use as a point of reference—a billboard, a house, anything—proved worthless. All she could see were freshly tilled fields speckled with clusters of pine trees.

  Brent reached over without warning and swiped the phone from her hand. “Tommy? This is Brent Masterson. Yeah, I picked up”—he grimaced—“I mean, found your sister wandering down South Whiteville.”

  He was distracted by the conversation now, allowing Kayla a few seconds to openly gawk at her rescuer’s handsome features. His skin was kissed with an early spring tan, or maybe still held color from the countless hours he likely spent outside the year before. He had a straight nose, its size the perfect complement to his high cheekbones and dark brows. Her gaze wandered down his neck, past his broad chest, and followed his long, lean arms. His free hand rested casually on the steering wheel, and the memory of their handshake a moment ago came rushing back. The contact had sent a current rippling through her, a flash of…something.

  Intrigue? Desire?

  With as long as it’d been since her last venture out into the dating world, it was probably a mixture of both. But his hands felt different from the ones she’d held before. They were large and warm, and callused, too—undoubtedly from years of manual labor. Even so, his grasp had been gentle. Almost too gentle, like he’d been holding back…

  “…expecting me. And since I’m late as it is, I’ll just have to bring your sister with me,” Brent said. “Yeah, send your guy to the Checkerberry Inn. That’s where we’ll be.”

  Panic flared in Kayla’s chest. Had he just said he was taking her to an inn? In the middle of nowhere? She wanted to kick herself for ever climbing into his truck. Now she was trapped.

  Or was she? Her gaze flashed to the door handle. Could she get out and bolt before he could catch her?

  A hand clamped over her left forearm.

  “Don’t even think about it, princess.”

  Kayla yanked her arm free and swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but—”

  “I don’t know what kind of girl you are,” he said, pocketing his phone once more. “Nor do I really care. What I do know is that I’ve got a lot of work to get done today and not enough hours left to do it. So if you’ll fasten your seat belt, we can get going.”

  “Oh, no.” She folded her arms across her chest. “No way. I’m not going to some seedy motel with you.”

  “A wha—?” He cast a stormy gaze upon her. “The Checkerberry is not and never will be a ‘seedy motel’. It’s my grandmother’s bed-and-breakfast, one of the nicest around. At least, it used to be. Anyway it’s warm and dry and where I’m headed. So if you planned on sitting in your car freezing while you wait for a tow truck to arrive, too bad. I’m not turning around.”

  Kayla stared at him, stunned by his outburst. “Fine.”

  “Good. Seat belt.”

  She complied with his order—for her safety, not to please the grump—and resisted the urge to stick out her tongue as she did. The truck started forward, its pace painfully slow. After what seemed like several miles and countless patches of ice later, Brent slowed his vehicle and gingerly turned onto a long, private drive. At its entrance stood a large wooden sign with the words Checkerberry Inn painted scarlet and outlined with gold. A picture was carved into the sign below its name, displaying a smooth pond with a deer looking up from its edge. If there was more to the image than that, it was masked beneath a growing layer of ice.

  Ice or no, Kayla knew just by looking at the majestic sign that Brent had been telling the truth. Nothing seedy about this place. She shifted her gaze to the frozen green expanse of lawn beside the drive. Hedgerows and rose bushes of varying shapes and sizes dotted the landscape, looking a bit worse for the wear after their winter slumber. Nothing a little spring trimming couldn’t remedy. And a good thaw to get rid of all the ice.

  Soon a mammoth structure came into view, painted a pale yellow and the size of three colonials placed end to end. The inn was two stories tall, the second level overhanging the first to create a broad, covered porch. Even shrouded by the rain and gloom, it was absolutely beautiful.

  “This is your grandmother’s?” she breathed.

  “It is.” Pride tinted his voice.

  “Wow.”

  Brent eased the truck to a stop beside the inn and killed the engine. He cast a quick glance in the backseat, then frowned. “Guess I haven’t swapped out my ice scraper for an umbrella yet. Sit tight. I’ll run in and grab you one.”

  He pushed the driver’s side door open, jumped out, and made a careful dash up to the inn’s covered porch before she had a chance to object. With a sigh, Kayla pushed her own door open and slid to the ground. What good would an umbrella do her? Keep her from getting more soaked?

  Determined he not mistake her for the princess type, Kayla carefully made her way up the icy porch steps without him—no small feat in these heels of hers. But soon she was out of the pelting sleet and standing before a large, ornate oak door. A placard displaying the inn’s name hung right of the entryway just above the doorbell, giving the entrance a classy look. But much of the rest of the porch had chipped and peeling paint, making the place look a bit more tattered.

  Oh, but what a little paint would do for the place. The porch itself hinted of comfort, with a variety of small hooks affixed to its ceiling for hanging porch swings and planters. And the view was nothing short of spectacular. In the distance, rolling green hills were skirted by fields on one side and a thick woods on the other. Flower beds starting to awake from their winter’s slumber lay nestled up against every inch of the inn’s frontage. And inside them, endless clusters of daffodils.

  Daffodils. An all-too-familiar ache pricked at Kayla’s heart. She looked away from the ice-covered sunny yellow buds and blinked like mad, intent on keeping her composure. When would she ever get over this ridiculous reaction to some stupid flo—

  “I thought I told you to wait in the truck.”

  She spun around to find Brent with a red and gold golf umbrella in hand. But as he took in the look on her face, the severe angle of his furrowed brows softened, then inverted. Dang it, she hated it when people looked at her like that. Like she was hurting. Because she wasn’t, not anymore.

  At least, that’s what she told herself, each and every day.

&nbs
p; Kayla turned from him and swiped a knuckle under each eye. “Did you? I must have missed that part.”

  His footsteps drew closer, and a fuzzy yellow towel settled on her shoulders. “Here. Why don’t you come inside while I try to track down Ruby?”

  Again, Mr. Billy Goat Gruff provided a glimpse of his soft underbelly. She was both touched by the gesture and unsettled by it. Kayla wasn’t the needy type, and she sure as heck didn’t intend to start playing one.

  “Thank you. So, who’s Ruby? Wait—you call your grandma by her first name?”

  A soft chuckle greeted her ears. “Trust me, she wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Confident her moment of weakness had passed, Kayla turned and caught her hero wearing an honest-to-goodness smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and tugged at his hairline, bringing a softness to his features she might otherwise have thought impossible.

  He looked younger, approachable. Sexy. For a moment, Kayla forgot how to breathe.

  But when he met her gaze, his former stoicism returned. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death.”

  As she watched him walk off without another look back, Kayla wondered if he didn’t secretly wish for her to do just that.

  Chapter Four

  Brent held the inn’s front door open and tried his best not to gawk at Kayla’s perfect, soaking wet ass as she stepped inside. Tried, but failed. Just like he had tried to avoid her gaze. Those unassuming blues of hers were going to be the end of him—and his self-control.

  He needed that tow truck to get here, and get here now.

  “Wow…”

  She’d stopped, eyes wide as she took in the entryway. Brent felt a surge of pride in his chest. After all the work he’d done renovating this place, a reaction like that never got old.

  “Too seedy for you?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she said, still drinking in the view. “This place is amazing. It’s so open, and bright, and wow…”

  Kayla wandered toward the parlor, taking her sweet, floral fragrance with her. If the woman’s curiosity was genuine, the room’s historical photographs, eclectic furniture, and vast collection of turn-of-the-century board games were sure to keep her occupied for a few minutes. Which, hopefully, would be enough time for him to track down his grandmother. Because while he hoped the tow truck would get here soon, deep down he knew the likelihood of that was slim to none. So the sooner he found Ruby, the sooner he could do the old bait and switch and leave Kayla behind.

  Kayla’s behind. He dragged a hand over his face. Not what he should be thinking about right now. Later maybe, from the comfort of his own bed. Alone.

  “Ruby?” he called, taking the front staircase two steps at a time. Silence greeted him on the second floor. “Ruby?”

  Where on earth had she wandered off to on a day like this?

  From down below, Brent heard a door open and close. And, judging by the swish that accompanied it, he knew exactly which door it was—one he’d snuck through countless times as a child. Hey, growing boys had to eat. He headed back downstairs, crossed the dining room, and passed through the kitchen’s swinging door. Sure enough, his grandmother stood at one of the island countertops, folding linen napkins.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  Ruby looked up from her work and smiled. “Brent, honey, it’s so good to see you. Did you get the paint? How was the drive?”

  God bless her and her twenty questions, a game she could play with Kayla for the rest of her brief stay. “The paint is in my truck, and the drive was slow.” And treacherous, not that he’d admit it. Wouldn’t want Ruby to worry about him any more than she already did. “Listen, I could really use your help with something so I can get started on that room remodel upstairs.”

  “Of course, dear. What do you ne—?”

  “Hello? Anybody there?”

  Ruby stilled at the sound of the strange voice drifting in from the lobby. “Did your cousin forget to lock the door again?” she said in a harsh whisper. “So help me, I will skin that boy alive the next—”

  “Brent?” Kayla called again, her voice closer.

  Ruby’s brows rose in unison, creating a cascade of wrinkles on her forehead. Brent shot her a pleading look.

  “It’s not what you think, so don’t even start to get your hopes up,” he whispered. Too late, of course—the old woman already had that sparkly-eyed look. With a sigh, he nudged the kitchen door back open and called, “Over here.”

  Ruby came to stand by his side. Upon seeing Kayla, towel wrapped around her shoulders and soaked to the bone, his grandmother donned a grin that would have given the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. Brent threw Ruby a warning look, then wiped it from his face before turning back to their guest.

  “Kayla, this is my grandmother, Ruby, the owner of this inn. Ruby, this is Kayla, who was dumb enough to be out on the road today and slammed her car into that new fence post of Bob’s I just replaced.”

  Kayla’s cheeks turned pink. Brent felt a small stab of guilt but pushed it aside. It was better if she didn’t become too attached to him.

  “Now is that any way to talk to a young lady? Honestly, Brent, where are your manners?” Ruby swatted him in the arm, then turned her attention back to Kayla. “Hello dear, so very nice to meet you. I’m terribly sorry to hear about your accident. Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. Things could have ended a whole lot worse—it’s awfully slick out there.”

  “Which is why you shouldn’t have been driving in the first place,” Brent said under his breath.

  “Maybe I didn’t have a choice,” Kayla muttered back.

  Ruby eyed them both. “I take it your car is stuck?”

  “Yes,” Kayla said. “But my brother called for a tow truck. It should be on its way.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t count on them getting your car back on the road any time soon, dear. With weather like this, it may be a while.” Ruby studied Kayla for a moment, the look in her eyes soft. Motherly. “Do you have a bag with you? Perhaps some dry clothes to change into?”

  “No, actually I don’t,” said Kayla. “My trip to Mount Pleasant was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “Well, we can’t have you standing around all soaking wet, now can we?” Ruby said.

  “But I—”

  “No buts, young lady.” Ruby took Kayla by the elbow. “Come along upstairs with me, and we’ll see if we can’t find something to make do while we get your clothes dried. And I think a hot shower will do you a world of good.”

  “I really wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  Kayla shot Brent a pleading look, but he just shrugged and offered her a look of mock innocence. He knew better than to argue with Ruby, especially when she was in mothering mode. If there was one thing Ruby loved more than the inn, it was mothering people. And who was Brent to deny her such a thing, especially when it meant taking one all-too-alluring little vixen off his hands?

  Kayla stood beneath a massaging stream of hot water in one of the Checkerberry’s amazing upstairs suites and felt like she’d died and gone to heaven. The cloud of steam swirling around her only added to the illusion. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d been until she first stepped under the hot water’s spray and nearly cried out from the pain. It was like a hundred bees, stinging her all at once. Eventually, though, she’d managed to ease her way in and thawed out.

  Now warm and squeaky-clean—thanks to the aromatic array of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners Ruby kept stocked in here—Kayla was still reluctant to turn off the faucet. Once her shower ended, she’d have to face the real world again. An unfair world, where innocent employees got framed, cars ate fence posts, and heroes were handsome grouches.

  Not exactly anything she wanted to hurry back to.

  But after a few more minutes, her growing guilt for hogging the inn’s hot water got the best of her. She dried off, then dug into her purse for an emergency hairbrush and what little
makeup she had with her. Not that it really mattered. No one around here cared what she looked like, or knew any better. So far they’d only ever seen her at her worst; anything had to be an improvement.

  Ah, but that wasn’t entirely true. Brent had seen her at the diner. The memory of their encounter instantly came to mind. His solid chest. Strong arms. Stormy gray eyes. Grouch or not, there was something about his intense gaze that woke up long-dormant parts of her. Girly parts. Parts that had absolutely no business waking up in the middle of this utter mess called Friday.

  Still, a little mascara never hurt anyone…

  Fresh-faced and with a towel wrapped securely around her, Kayla cracked open the bathroom door and peered out. Just as Ruby had promised, her soaking wet clothes were gone. The only article of clothing in sight was a fluffy white terrycloth robe, neatly folded and perched on the edge of the suite’s bed, with a handwritten note on top.

  Make yourself at home. This robe should keep you warm while your clothes are in the wash. —Ruby

  “Wash?” Kayla whispered, her newfound calm starting to slip away. Washing would take too long. What if the tow truck arrived before her clothes were done? She couldn’t exactly jump into the tow truck to show the driver to her car dressed like this.

  Kayla closed her eyes and dragged a long, slow breath in and then back out. Think positive. Maybe the wash would be done before Jimmy and his tow truck came to her rescue. That’s what Ruby had suggested, anyway. Until then, she’d just hang out up here. Maybe take a little nap.

  Her gaze shifted to the bed. It did look awfully inviting, with its patchwork quilt in varying shades of coastal blues and the cluster of matching pillows above. She sat down on its edge to test it out. Not too hard, not too soft. Yep, the perfect mattress for napping on a rainy day.

  A knock sounded. “All better, dear?”

  Kayla sprang from the bed and hurried to the door. She pulled it open a crack, peeked out to make sure Ruby was the only one in sight, and then opened it another foot or so.