“Impertinence!”
Another sigh. “I don’t mean to be impertinent, Gran. I apologize. Would you like more bacon?”
“Two pieces is all a body needs in one day. How many have I had?” The older woman’s voice changed to one of almost fear as she asked the question.
“Two, Gran. You’re good.”
The older woman made a thoughtful humming noise. “Dale probably wanted someone more feminine.”
A chair scraped against the kitchen tiles. “Alright then. I’m going to run check on our guest. You stay here and I’ll be right back, okay?”
Jett scrambled toward the dining room as quickly as he could, pushing down his guilt over having inadvertently eavesdropped.
He made it into his seat, and a moment later she appeared by his side.
He glanced up, hoping he looked as innocent as he tried to. “The food is delicious. Thank you.” He wanted to add that she wasn’t anywhere near fat, that she was plenty feminine, but that might give her the wrong impression about his intentions, in addition to giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping. Instead, he said, “Listen, any chance that I could book my room for a few more days?”
She’d been leaning down to pick up his plate, but his question made her hesitate. She looked over at him, brows arching.
From this distance he could see silver and granite flecks in her blue eyes. He felt just as surprised as she looked. He’d planned to move on and find someplace a little more…established.
She moistened her lips, seemed to recover, then stood, taking his plate with her. “Actually yes. You are our very first guest. I was surprised to see your booking come through only a few minutes after I opened up online registration. And no one else has made a reservation, so the room is available for as long as you need it.”
What were the chances of that? When he landed in Seattle he’d Googled “Bed and Breakfast Riversong, WA” and picked the first one his finger stabbed as he’d been hurrying to haul himself into the back of a taxi.
“I’ll take the next thirty days.” He didn’t know what made him say it. He didn’t even know if he could come up with enough things to keep him occupied in this small town for thirty days. Or if the media would find him before then and necessitate his moving on. But something in her dejected tone after her grandmother had so succinctly insulted her made everything in him want to help this woman. And he had a feeling that paying for thirty days up front would lift a big burden from her shoulders.
She took a step back. “Th-thirty days?”
He thrust out one hand. “If I’m going to be staying that long, I figure I should know your name?” He offered his friendliest smile.
She scrambled to balance his plate on her left hand, then settled her small warm palm into his. “Salem. Salem Finn.”
“Salem, I’m Jett.”
“Hudson. Yes, I know.” She still looked stunned.
For the flash of a moment his gut clenched, but then he realized that she wasn’t batting her eyes at him like a fan-girl. She only knew his name because she’d checked him in the night before. He relaxed, and his stomach rumbled loudly. With a sheepish grin, he propped his hands against the arms of his chair. “How about some more french toast? I haven’t eaten anything that good in a long time.”
Her face still wore an astounded expression, but she gave him a nod. “I’ll be right back with it.”
As she walked away, he rubbed his palms against his jeans, doing his best to remove the feel of her tiny hand enfolded in his. This was good. He could cross off “find a place to stay” from today’s mental check-list. And if the breakfasts every day were anything like today’s, he was going to like the Riversong B&B very much.
CHAPTER 4
By ten fifteen Salem had the kitchen put back in order, Jett’s Serenade Room cleaned, and the towels he’d used this morning had been put in the washing machine. Gran was ensconced in her recliner upstairs with a hot cup of tea and her favorite author’s latest audiobook pumping through her headphones.
Jett had taken off to explore town earlier. She couldn’t believe he wanted to stay for a full thirty days! Despite her ridiculous and momentary descent into panic that he might be a criminal of some kind, she couldn’t help but realize what a Godsend his staying was. He’d paid immediately after finishing his breakfast. She still felt a little lightheaded every time she thought about it. Before she could change her mind, she promptly paid every single bill sitting on her desk.
Her cell phone rang. Salem tugged it from her back pocket, stared at the caller I.D. for a moment, and then plunked it onto the desktop, biting her lower lip. Why would Dale be calling? Her stomach threatened to cast up every last bite of breakfast.
The phone quit ringing, but started up again only a moment later.
She rolled her eyes and swiped to answer it. “What can I do for you, Dale?” She didn’t bother trying to disguise her lack of desire to speak to him.
“Yes, ma’am. This is officer Dale Schmidt calling on behalf of the Riversong Police Department.”
She could hear a note of teasing in his voice. Seriously? Salem tipped her head back and grimaced at the vaulted ceiling. “What do you want, Dale?” She cleared her throat.
He dropped the pretense. “Come on, baby. Don’t you—”
“—Dale, just tell me why you called or I’m going to hang up on you in about five seconds.”
He gave a little huff that was half chuckle, half frustration. “Sheesh you are being stubborn about this! How long are you going to keep me in the doghouse?”
Salem clenched her jaw. How many times were they going to have this conversation? Did the man really think she had such a miniscule amount of self-respect? She felt her blood pressure rise. She wasn’t going there again. “Dale, I don’t know how many ways I can say it. But I’ll try one more time. We’re through. I’m not coming back to you this time.”
There was a beat of silence, and she heard him release a little breath. The tink tink of his pen tapping on the desk could be heard in the background. Finally he said, “I hear you had a guest last night?”
“Yes.” Not that it was any of his business. She didn’t offer the information that Jett would be staying for the next month.
Tink. Tink. Tink. “You know I feel responsible to keep you safe, babe. What can you tell me about this guy?”
She clenched the phone tighter. Her guests were her business. And she certainly wasn’t Dale’s responsibility anymore. But she knew Dale well enough to know that he’d just keep snooping if she didn’t give him some information. “He seems nice enough. He left earlier to go into town.”
“What’s his name?”
Salem stood and paced the small space behind her foyer desk. “Dale, really…everything’s under control. I’m hanging up now.”
“Guess I’ll just swing by later then, to ask the guy a few questions.” He raised his voice so that even though she had started to pull her phone from her ear, she heard every word he said.
She emitted a growl. She couldn’t help it. When they were together, she couldn’t seem to get two words out of Dale, much less a date, or a hint of him wanting to protect her. But now that she’d dumped him, this! Just like every other time she’d broken up with him.
“Sweetheart, I’d just feel safer if I did a little checking into the guy.”
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Dale. Save that for—what’s her name again?—Monica?”
“Honey, I told you what you saw wasn’t—” There was a frustrated sigh from the other end of the connection. “Salem, baby, you’re killing me here. Please just let me come by and explain what happened? I know I blew it. But…I need you.”
Salem’s stomach curled on a familiar wave of sympathy at the cajoling tone of his voice. Ever since they were kids, he’d been able to make her question the boundary lines she drew. Was she being too hard on him? She huffed. No, she absolutely was not. Why was she even second guessing? He was apparently able to make her weak
in the head also. “You’ve managed to survive the last months since I broke up with you. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Goodbye, Dale.”
He blew out a breath. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you this evening then.”
“You can’t come around here and hassle my guests.”
“Hon, all I’m saying is that I’m worried you’ve gotten in over your head with this bed and breakfast thing. I just want to do a little checking up on this guy. You wouldn’t want to have Gran injured by some low-life criminal, would you?”
Salem clenched her fingers into her bun, and pulled. It would be better for her to just give him what he wanted. If she didn’t give Dale the name, he’d only come by and pester Jett with a bunch of demeaning questions. Then Jett might decide to move on and ask for a refund on the thirty days he’d just paid for. “Jett Hudson. His name is Jett Hudson.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? Where’s he from?”
Salem sighed. “He’s from Florida. But says he was born in Texas. What? Are you planning on running a background check or something? Isn’t that illegal without his consent?” She could hear Dale jotting some notes in the background.
Dale released a long-suffering sigh. “There’s nothing stopping me from doing an online check about the guy. Do you have any more specific information? A birth date? Or anything else?”
“No.” Just all the information I got when he registered. But she wasn’t giving that to Dale.
She was certain Dale wouldn’t find anything to cause concern. Jett had seemed the epitome of kindness. Her couple moments of panic this morning were simply due to her lack of trust. And that had been kindled and then set ablaze by the very man she was currently speaking to. A man who had never once mentioned prayer like it was an everyday part of his life.
“Jett Hudson,” he murmured. “Wait, really? You seriously have a guy named Jett Hudson staying at your place?”
At the tone of his voice, her heart rate picked up. “Yeah, why? Does that name mean something to you?”
She pressed one hand to her chest. Why was her heart beating so hard?
“Babe, you really need to get out more. Or at least turn on the TV once in a while like a normal person would. Jett Hudson was a top ranked quarterback for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.”
She clamped her teeth together and determined not to respond to his less-than-subtle put downs. A quarterback? “Was?”
“Yeah, he got bulldozed by a Kansas City lineman in the middle of last season. But this guy staying at your place can’t be him. Why would an NFL quarterback from Florida, who has more money than he knows what to do with by the way, end up staying in your little dump of a bed and breakfast way out here in Washington?” Tink. Tink. Tink. She could hear his pen tapping the desk again. “Maybe your guest is hiding out from the law. He probably picked that name because he’s from Florida. Leave it to you to end up with a criminal as your first customer. I’ll run the information we have and see what comes up. Meanwhile, Merle is out on rounds right now and I’ll send him out your way to make sure you and Gran are safe.” His tone said he really was going above and beyond for her.
“No, Dale. No need. Jett left a while ago. He’s somewhere in town. We’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’ll call you if I find out anything I think you should know.”
“Fine.”
She hung up without even saying goodbye. Oh for the good ol’ days when you could slam a phone in someone’s ear. Dale would call her whenever and wherever he felt like it whether he thought he had anything she should know, or not. She sighed.
She stared down at her phone until the screen turned black. More money than he knows what to do with… She glanced at the pile of bills she’d paid off just this morning, then reached out to jostle the mouse for the front desk’s computer.
It only took her a few strokes and one press of the ‘enter’ button to be staring at a page filled with picture after picture of the chisel-jawed, dark-haired, gray-eyed Jett Hudson.
Decked out in his red and gray football uniform.
Arm draped across the shoulders of a very gorgeous blonde that he was eyeing with a flirty smile, in a sport drink commercial.
Lacing up a prominently-logoed pair of tennis shoes. That time the flirty smile was directed right at the camera.
Posing for a men’s fitness magazine in a tight black athletic tank with a football casually propped against one cocked hip. The guy’s torso had more ridges than the Cascade Range.
Salem swallowed. With one quick click, the page of images disappeared.
She blinked at her desktop background. She had a rich and famous football player as her first guest. Her mouth turned dry. She pictured him flipping bacon in the kitchen this morning and felt her face heat. What must he think of her? Your little dump of a bed and breakfast.
She blew out a calming breath and tugged a legal pad closer. She wrote out three long grocery lists. She’d have to ask Zaire if she could come sit with Gran for a day so she could drive into Wenatchee and visit Costco and the larger grocery store. But maybe tonight she could get to the store in Riversong. She made a mental note to look up some more recipes online tonight. Jett was probably used to dining on finer foods than she had planned to offer her guests. Maybe figuring out what foods he liked best was something to research, as well. But for now she needed to get to work.
CHAPTER 5
Salem pushed away from the desk. She had her favorite music list prepped to stream. And she was ready to tackle the bedroom that would one day be christened the Aria Room.
Salem popped in her earbuds and pushed open the door, then flipped on the light. Dust motes spun in an eerie dance around the lone light bulb, and Salem crinkled her nose. Every single space in the room was packed with junk. Some of it would be usable as décor for the rooms she would remodel, but some of it simply needed to be hauled to the dump. She hoped Gran wouldn’t catch her sneaking stuff out of the house. That was a showdown she didn’t relish getting involved in.
But Gran usually stayed occupied for a good two hours if she was enjoying an audiobook, so there wasn’t a better time than now to tackle the task. And there was nothing like just diving in and getting started. She cranked up the volume on her phone, thrust it into her sleeve-holder, and picked up the nearest item. An old plastic five gallon bucket filled with bolts. Junk. Her next hand latched onto a wrought iron Celtic cross. Décor. She trucked both items outside and set them on opposite sides of the parking space, making sure to leave room for Jett’s truck in case he came back before she was done.
That was how she spent the morning. Décor. Junk. Junk. Décor. She was in the middle of belting out God Gave Me You along with Blake Shelton, and trying to tug an old corduroy couch, that was definitely not décor, through the front door when a hand clamped onto her shoulder.
With a yelp she spun around, ready to fight. Adrenaline spiking, she shoved her attacker’s chest with both hands. The solid wall of bone and muscle didn’t even budge, but broad brown hands reached to keep her from shooting backwards with the force of her shove.
It was Jett, and she was now standing with both palms pressed firmly against his Cascade Ridge torso, panting like she’d just run two miles. His hands were wrapped firmly around her upper arms. He had on a skull cap and a pair of aviator sunglasses that reflected her surprised expression and messy bun.
In her ears Blake crooned about how God had given him a new woman for days filled with doubt.
Jett’s hands gentled and his thumbs moved up and down against the skin just below her t-shirt sleeves.
Goose flesh popped up all over her arms, and her heart rate ramped up, for an entirely different reason this time. This was so not good. She’d just attacked her one and only guest. Her one and only, rich and famous guest. Such a popular athlete was probably used to women throwing themselves at him. But she didn’t want him to think that was what she had done here, because she simply wasn’t interested in any relationships right now. Yet here sh
e stood, seemingly frozen, with her palms pressed against him. She really ought to do something about that.
Jett raised his hands, stepped back, snatched his glasses from his face, and mouthed something, a glint of humor in his gray-blue eyes. He stuffed the stem of the sunglasses down the front of his shirt.
As though some spell had just been broken, Salem tugged her earbuds loose, feeling her embarrassment in her face. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come up.”
He tilted his head. “And I’m sorry to have scared you. I called to you several times.”
She lifted the earbuds in a feeble attempt at an excuse.
His grin broadened. “Blake Shelton, huh? Isn’t that a breakup song?”
The man had no idea. But she wasn’t about to burden him with her tale of woe. Especially since she’d probably just bruised his chest. She held her silence.
He folded his arms and took in the couch, which was entirely blocking the entrance. “You’re working hard, I see.”
Not only had she attacked him, she was keeping him from his room! She stuffed her earbuds into her pocket. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I thought you’d be gone longer. Just give me a moment and I’ll have the doorway cleared for you.” She grabbed the couch, but Jett’s hand landed on her shoulder again. Still clutching the couch, she peered at him.
“How about if I climb over that and give you a hand from the other end?”
Salem set to tugging on the old couch. “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.” Tug. The couch moved about half an inch. “I’m sure ‘help move smelly old sleeper sofas’”—Puff. Tug. Another micrometer of movement—“wasn’t on your list of recreational activities planned for this vacation.”
Drat! How heavy was this thing? It sure had glided a lot better over the polished hardwood floors than it was now on the stone tiles of the entry and patio. Maybe lifting the couch higher on her end would help it move easier. She squatted lower to get a better grip under the frame.
Angel Kisses and Riversong Page 3