by Gina Wilkins
He found that fascinating. “No kidding.”
“I’ve always been pretty sure Uncle Leo made up the story to entertain us as children,” she said quickly, looking surprisingly unenchanted by the tale. “Bonnie, especially, loved to hear him tell it and asked him to do so every time we saw him. He embellished the story a little more every time he told it. If he did see something that night, it was probably just a trick of the mist, misinterpreted by a blissful young couple who’d grown up hearing about the bride and had just gotten engaged.”
He stopped walking to face her more fully, cocking his head to closely study her face. “Why does it bother you so much to talk about this? I could tell you didn’t like Mary mentioning the ghost and you’re doing everything you can to discourage my interest in the subject.”
She reached up to her breeze-tossed hair, trying to smooth it into her usual sleek, asymmetrical bob. “The main reason, of course, is that I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“What about fairy tales?”
“I’m not a big fan of those, either,” she admitted.
Interesting. Was her disillusionment a result of the former “Mr. Kinley” she’d alluded to? Had some jerk broken spunky Kinley Carmichael’s heart? The possibility made him unexpectedly, disproportionately angry. Just what was going on here, anyway? He reminded himself that he barely knew the woman, though his enthrallment with her had been instant and powerful, for some reason. Had he been the fanciful type, he might have wondered if there was some sort of romantic charm attached to Bride Mountain Inn.
Trying to keep his attention on the topic at hand, he said, “Still, maybe a mention of the ghost bride would be a boost to your business. A pretty wedding venue with a romantic legend attached? Sounds like quite a draw.”
She shook her head firmly. “Back in the early 1960s, a woman who claimed to be a psychic visited the inn and said she had seen and talked with the ghost. She put out a cockamamy story about a woman who died the night before her wedding to her one true love. Now, supposedly, the bride appears to bless those couples she deems are meant to be together as she and her love couldn’t be on this earthly plane. The story appeared in an obscure magazine and wasn’t widely publicized, but even that amount of attention caused problems for the inn.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “It was the sixties. Uncle Leo said a bunch of ‘hippie new agers’ camped out on the grounds, hoping to see the ghost and generally causing trouble. Once he took care of that problem, they had the occasional attention-seeking couple who either insisted they’d seen the bride and wanted publicity about it, or brides who became very upset because they didn’t see her and decided that was a bad omen for their weddings. That’s why I try to downplay the legend whenever anyone asks me about it. I can’t stop you from mentioning it in your article, of course, but I wish you wouldn’t make it the main theme of your story.”
He didn’t appreciate being told how to do his job, any more than Kinley would like it if he did the same to her. He admired her dedication to her work, but there was such a thing as carrying business too far—a concept his workaholic parents had never quite understood.
“I have done a series on supposedly haunted places in the South, and I’ll probably do other articles in that vein,” he answered evenly, his tone a bit clipped. “This isn’t that kind of assignment. The series that will include your inn is focused on nice places to hold weddings. We’ve already vetted the settings, so the reviews will all be positive, which is the tone my editor wants to set. If a mention of the old legend, even a tongue-in-cheek reference, makes my article more interesting, I’ll use it, but it will not detract from the tangible, factual reasons future brides should choose your inn as a setting for their weddings.”
He could tell she wasn’t entirely satisfied, but she kept her tone determinedly cordial. “I’d much rather the inn be known for the excellent amenities we work so hard to provide than for some creepy old ghost story.”
He shook his head, pushing aside the irritation and offering a wry smile. “Has anyone ever accused you of having a few control issues?”
She looked taken aback for a moment, then gave him an answering smile that was decidedly rueful. “Occasionally. I prefer to think of it as knowing exactly what I want and making sure I get it.”
On an impulse, he reached out to catch a strand of hair that was blowing around her face and tuck it tidily behind her left ear. “I guess I can understand that. I go after what I want, too.”
She studied his face, obviously trying to decide exactly how to respond. He found it encouraging that she didn’t immediately step away from him. Not for the first time, he sensed that his attraction was reciprocated, at least to an extent—even if perhaps hesitantly on Kinley’s part.
With some regret, he watched her settle her expression into her usual friendly mask, carefully hiding any thoughts that had nothing to do with business. “We should get back to the inn. I have a few more things to do this afternoon.”
He nodded and turned to face uphill again. He froze before taking a step, his gaze locked on the unsettling image ahead. It wasn’t a ghost he saw facing them on the side of the road. This creature, he thought with a swallow, looked more like a hound from hell. And it was moving toward them with narrowed eyes and a low, raspy sound emerging from its massive throat.
Every nerve ending on alert, he moved to position himself between the animal and Kinley. Not that he had the first clue what he would do if it attacked.
* * *
Swallowing a groan, Kinley reached out to nudge Dan gently from in front of her. She felt the rigidity of his muscles beneath his turned-up shirtsleeve and knew he was braced to protect her. As much as she prided herself on her competence and independence, she still felt a tiny thrill of feminine pleasure in response to his gallantry, though it was entirely unnecessary this time.
“It’s okay, Dan,” she said. “Unfortunately, I know this ugly mutt.”
Making the rumbly growly sound that was his weird way of greeting people he knew, the black-and-brown dog paused in front of her and dropped something at her feet. She sighed heavily when she saw that it was one of her sister’s nicest gardening gloves. “Bonnie is not going to be happy to have your slobber all over her glove,” she muttered, bending to gingerly retrieve the soggy mitt.
“This is your dog?” Dan sounded a little sheepish about his reaction to his first sight of the shaggy animal.
She straightened, then shook her head in exasperation when the dog leaned his solid body companionably against her thigh, making her stumble a bit to keep her balance. “Logan calls him Ninja, because of his mostly black color and the marking that looks like a mask across his eyes. And also because it’s almost impossible to keep him restrained.”
“So he’s your brother’s dog.”
“He showed up at the inn during the winter, cold and hungry and obviously a stray. Logan fed him a few times and he stayed. There’s a chain link fence around the backyard of the caretaker’s cottage, mostly to keep out wild animals from the woods, and Logan put a nice doghouse back there for Ninja. But he should have named him Houdini, because the dumb dog keeps getting out and causing problems at the inn—stealing stuff like this glove, picking flowers, playing in the fountain and intimidating guests who catch a glimpse of his ugly mug, even though we’ve never seen him show any signs of aggression.”
“Guess he’s not so dumb, after all.” Visibly relaxed now, Dan extended a friendly hand to the dog, who sniffed it, licked it, then butted his broad head against it in a blatant hint for an ear rub. “Um, why is he growling at me?”
Kinley laughed wryly. “He never barks, but he makes that rumbly sound when he’s happy. Bonnie says he’s purring, like a cat. Crazy mutt.”
Bending to rub the wagging dog’s ears with both hands, Dan grinned. “So, what breed do you think he is?”
“Logan guesses part Rottweiler, part Lab and a few mystery genes that I think include imp and demon.”
>
Laughing, Dan gave the dog one last rub and straightened, absently brushing his hands on his pants. “He seems like a nice enough fellow to me.”
“That might be true if he would stay where he’s supposed to be. Popping up unexpectedly to unnerve the guests is hardly good for business, even though we try to remember to inform everyone checking in that my brother has a dog who poses no threat to them. To be honest, I’ve attempted to talk Logan into finding another home for Ninja. Logan says he tried at the beginning, but no one else wanted him, and now I think they’ve bonded. I am going to insist now that he should reinforce the fence, both for the safety of the dog and for the comfort of our guests.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
They resumed their walk back to the inn with Ninja plodding companionably beside them. Kinley hoped the wandering dog would join the list of things Dan would not feel compelled to mention in his article.
Very little about her interactions with him thus far had gone exactly as she’d planned. He wasn’t at all what she had expected, and she certainly couldn’t have predicted—or controlled—the other minor glitches since he’d arrived. She could only hope the next few days while he was here would go as smoothly as possible. And that she would manage to resist his seemingly habitual flirtation. She knew better than to take him seriously. Even if he found her attractive, which seemed to be true, it didn’t mean he had any intention of doing anything about it. A few laughs, a few exchanged smiles—at the most a few days of a lighthearted fling—and then he would move on to the next assignment, the next willing woman. At least, that was what she surmised about him, based on painful past experience.
That wasn’t the way she rolled, she assured herself. She would stay firmly in command of herself while he was here.
The new post lay on the drive next to the jack and two-by-four rig that currently supported the portico. Logan, Curtis and Zach sat in rockers on the porch eating sandwiches and drinking iced tea that Bonnie had most likely provided for them. Seeing the trio approaching him, Logan grimaced, set his empty tea glass aside and stood. “Where did you find him?”
“He found us,” Kinley replied. “Halfway down the road to the cafe. I take it you didn’t know he was out?”
“Obviously. I wouldn’t let him wander down the road,” Logan muttered with a scowl. He reached down to loop two fingers beneath the dog’s leather collar. “I’ll take him back to my yard. Curtis, Zach, y’all finish up your lunches and then we’ll get that post in place. We’ll get it caulked and primed this afternoon and paint it in the morning.”
Kinley liked the sound of that. Barring any unforeseen complications, the front of the inn should be fully restored by the time the Sossaman-Thompson wedding party arrived for rehearsal, which should mollify Eva. She would probably find something else to criticize or complain about, but that was one issue out of the way.
“I hope you can figure out how he escaped this time,” she said to her brother. “We really can’t risk having him disrupt a wedding rehearsal or even scare guests who are just trying to take a walk through the garden.”
He’d heard that speech probably a dozen times since he’d taken in the stray dog, but she felt compelled to remind him again what was at stake. She didn’t even want to think how Eva would react if this hulk of a dog interrupted the rehearsal—or even worse, she thought with a slight shudder, the wedding.
Logan gave her a look over his shoulder and started to speak, then stopped himself with a visible effort, probably because he remembered that Dan was within hearing. She would probably get a lecture later about her habitually bossy tendencies. Maybe after he’d gotten that off his chest, she would suggest again that he should try to find a more suitable home for the dog. Surely someone wanted a Rottweiler-Lab-imp-demon mix.
Dan glanced at Kinley when Logan led the dog out of sight. “Your brother is limping. Do you think he hurt himself this morning?”
“No, he’s had the limp for several years.” She motioned toward the porch without elaborating. “Shall we go in?”
“I’m sure you have things to do this afternoon,” Dan said when they entered the dining room through the side door. “Don’t let me keep you from them.”
“I should get back to my to-do list,” she agreed. “What will you do?”
“I think I’ll drive around the area. Check out some of the local flavor. Maybe visit one or two of those museums, myself.”
“We’d love to have you for dinner this evening, Dan,” Bonnie said from the doorway into the foyer. “Logan, Kinley and I will be dining in my apartment downstairs at six. Nothing fancy, but there will be plenty of food, if you’d like to join us.”
“That’s sounds great, if you don’t think your brother will mind.”
“Of course Logan won’t mind,” Bonnie assured him with a smile.
Dan grinned back at her. “Then I’ll be there. Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”
Bonnie giggled. Kinley tried not to scowl. “If you two will excuse me, I have some calls to make.”
It was a very good thing, she told herself as she headed rapidly toward the office, that she hadn’t taken Dan’s flirting seriously. If she had, she just might be feeling a bit envious of the smile he’d just given her sister. Which, of course, she wasn’t. Not at all, she assured herself.
She closed the office door behind her with a bit more of a sharp snap than she had intended.
Chapter Four
That evening, Dan tapped on the door of Bonnie’s basement apartment. She welcomed him in with a warm smile, informing him that her siblings were on their way. Her living quarters included an airy, open kitchen-dining-living area, and she told him there were two bedrooms with en suite baths. Her decorating skills were obvious here, too, with pale colors and light woods making the limited space feel bigger and very comfortable. Windows brought in light on two sides of the apartment and lamps had been used judiciously to brighten dark corners.
Logan arrived only minutes after Bonnie ushered Dan in and served him a glass of freshly made lemonade. He didn’t look surprised to see Dan there, so he must have been warned ahead. But then again, Logan Carmichael hid his thoughts so well that Dan wasn’t sure he’d have known if the guy was surprised or not. Logan, too, accepted a glass of lemonade.
Bonnie waved them toward the seating area. “You guys make yourselves comfortable. Kinley’s running a little late and I have just a couple things to finish up in the kitchen before we eat.”
Dan noticed Logan’s slight limp again when they moved to sit. The hitch was in his left leg, as if the knee didn’t quite fully extend. An old sports injury, perhaps? He could see this rock-solid-looking guy as an athlete. Logan sat on the couch and Dan sank into a nearby chair.
“I saw the front of the inn a little while ago when I got back from a sightseeing drive,” he said to initiate a conversation. “You got a lot done today. The new post looks good.”
Logan nodded. “Fortunately, there wasn’t much damage. It was easy enough to jack up the corner and slide a new post into place. Reconnecting the gingerbread without breaking it further was the biggest challenge.”
“Kinley told me you’re a software designer in addition to your duties here. What sort of programs do you write?”
Lowering his lemonade glass after taking a long sip, Logan shrugged. “I’m more of a consultant these days. I customize software for specific customer needs. Small businesses, mostly.”
“Interesting.”
“Better than working in a cubicle,” the other man replied laconically.
Dan lifted his glass in an implied toast. “I hear you on that.”
With a rusty-sounding chuckle, Logan raised his own glass, then took a drink.
Kinley rushed in the door then, her phone to her ear. She waved a greeting to Dan and Logan while tossing her purse on the floor beside the couch. She moved to the far side of the room to continue her conversation. Giving her privacy, Dan continued his talk with her brother. “Did you figure out how
your dog got out of your yard?”
“I think someone must have let him out,” Logan answered with a frustrated shake of his head. “I walked that damned fence line twice and there were no breaks. Someone had to open the gate.”
“You think it might have been one of the guests?”
“Oh, I can’t imagine one of the guests would have done that,” Kinley said, sliding her phone into her pocket and speaking before her brother could answer. “But I hope you put a lock on the gate, just in case, Logan.”
“The tool shed is in my backyard. Zach and Curtis and I don’t want to stop to punch in a combination or dig out a key every time we need a hammer or a pair of garden shears,” he grumbled. “I tightened the latch and hung a private-property, keep-out sign on the fence. I printed a note on the sign saying to keep the gate closed because of the dog. I’ll keep an eye on my place, but that should take care of any overly curious guests.”
Kinley didn’t look entirely satisfied, but she nodded and put on a smile for Dan’s benefit. “I’m sorry I was late. I’ve got a couple making an offer on a house this evening and the owners are putting together a counteroffer. I’ll probably have another call or two this evening, so I’ll apologize in advance.”
“What else is new?” Logan asked drily.
Pointedly ignoring her brother, she turned toward the kitchen. “What can I do to help, Bonnie?”
“You can chop the tomatoes for the salad,” Bonnie said from in front of the far counter, where she was ladling something from a large, stainless steel slow cooker onto a big platter.
“Dan, how was your afternoon?” Kinley asked, raising her voice enough to be heard over the brisk sound of chopping. “Did you make it to one of the museums?”
“Yes, I did. I spent a little time at the Great Lakes to Florida Highway Museum, the one set up in the old gas station. It was an interesting look back at 1920s and 30s transportation. I had a college friend whose dad collected old oil cans and petroleum advertising products. He’d love the displays I saw this afternoon.”