I mumbled a curse when I realized I’d actually typed that last line into my manuscript and deleted it.
Note to self: Sleep-deprivation and over-active imaginations don’t mix . . . like, at all.
Then again, having over a dozen people stare silently and brazenly for well over an hour might prompt any person to have outlandish and horrific scenes play out in their minds.
I sat back in the chair and stifled a yawn as I rubbed at my eyes behind my glasses.
“Can I get you anything else?”
I dropped my hands and looked over to see the brunette who’d taken my order earlier standing near my table.
Curiosity churned in her hazel eyes, betraying her polite expression and tone, and the way she was so clearly avoiding asking what every patron seemed to be wondering: What was I doing there?
“Uh . . .” I glanced at the empty coffee mug and shook my head slowly, then more resolutely. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“All right. Well, let me know if you change your mind.”
“Actually, is there a hotel around here? I didn’t see one when I came in this morning.” Then again, I’d barely been able to keep my eyes open. And I was still pretty damn positive I was going to wake up in the disturbing man’s basement.
“If you’re just passing through, Amber isn’t really the town to stop in,” the girl said as she grabbed my mug. “There’s a bigger town about a half-hour west. Their motel’s a lot cheaper than the bed and breakfast here. But, you get what you pay for.”
“I’m not.” When her eyebrows lifted in question, I hurried to add, “Just passing through.”
She didn’t bother to hide her surprise while she studied me. “Do you have family here?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
My brow furrowed. “No.”
“Then what brings you?”
I hesitated when multiple answers danced on my tongue, fighting for their chance to be voiced. I pushed them away and lifted a shoulder in the barest hint of a shrug.
“Interested in small-town life.” My gaze left her long enough to confirm I was still being looked at by every single person in the café before I said, “My first encounter is already so surreal, I haven’t decided if I’m actually dreaming.”
She didn’t look behind her. She already knew I was being gawked at.
Though I wasn’t sure why some of the attention wasn’t on her.
Her ultra-short shorts and vintage concert t-shirt that was knotted just below her chest, leaving her stomach bare, seemed to fit her so entirely. Anywhere else, I wouldn’t have thought twice about her outfit. But it wasn’t hard to figure her sexy grunge look stood out in this little country town.
“You’re new,” she explained unapologetically. “We don’t get a lot of new people here. If there’s someone we don’t know, then they’re related to someone from here or they got lost and they’re just passing through. If you plan on hanging around for a while, be prepared for more of this.”
“Lovely,” I mumbled and sent the people in the café a wide smile and a wave any Miss America contestant would be proud of.
Jesus, I needed sleep.
I was imagining a kidnapping and turning into a beauty pageant contestant on top of it.
The girl beside me laughed, the sound so carefree now that she was done interrogating me for everyone. “You’ll get used to us, but if you ever need someone who isn’t staring at you and whispering behind your back, you can usually find me here at Brewed. Come in whenever. The café is always open, but we serve food and beer in the afternoons and evenings just through those doors,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the large barn doors at the back of the café. “I’m Emberly.”
My body went still as I replayed her last words again and again and again. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
Her eyes rolled and a soft smile pulled at her mouth as if she’d been expecting my question.
“Emberly.” She held a hand up as if to stop anything I might say. “I know, it, uh . . . isn’t exactly common.”
No.
It wasn’t.
And I couldn’t seem to do anything more than stare at her. Study her.
This girl whose name was Emberly . . . fucking Emberly.
The color of her hair and eyes. The shape of her lips and eyes and nose.
Oh my God.
I cleared my throat and hurried to save my manuscript before slipping my laptop into my purse. “So, this bed and breakfast . . .”
“Blossom B&B.” She gestured out the window behind me. “Two blocks down First Street, there’s no way to miss it. Massive plantation house. The Dixons run it. You’ll love them . . . Savannah is really sweet.”
A short laugh burst from my chest before I could stop it. Because, once again, this all felt too dreamlike.
A place where everyone knew everyone. Where residents whispered to one another about the intruder in their town. A town that—with the little glimpse I saw as I drove in while the sun was rising—looked like it belonged on a movie set it was so perfect . . .
I was sitting in the middle of a real-life Mayberry.
I couldn’t understand what would possess a person to live in a town like this, much less, why someone would choose to come here.
Then again, I’d just driven over nineteen hours to get here.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been up for about twenty-four hours now, I must finally be crashing. I should probably call to see if they have room at that place so I don’t have to sleep in my car—actually, I’m just going to go there. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Thank you for the coffee and the weird warning,” I rambled as I pushed to my feet.
Without another glance at her or the dozens of eyes I could feel on me, I hurried out of the café.
The door hadn’t even closed behind me before I heard the customers of the café all start talking at once.
I could deal with this.
I could deal with stares and whispers—those weren’t the kinds of things that bothered me.
After a much-needed shower, a beautiful sleep session that assured me I was, in fact, here and not in a basement, and all the coffee in the world, I would be ready to face the residents of Amber, Texas.
I would be ready to push away all I had run from and finally confront my past.
Chapter 2
Sawyer
“I hate you.”
“I know, I know,” Savannah said dismissively as she rushed around the entryway, not even bothering to look up at me.
“I hate you,” I repeated, my scowl deepening as my frustrations turned into a physical ache.
Savannah finally stopped moving long enough to loose a sigh, no doubt drawing it out for my benefit, and let her annoyed glare rest on me. “It’s eight in the morning, Sawyer. Stop acting like I woke you up before the sun.”
She rubbed her swollen stomach and released another sigh, this one holding a hint of determination. As soon as it ended, the tiny little whirlwind was moving again.
She never stopped moving.
It’s why the bed and breakfast was perfect for her, because there was always something to do. Always something to clean, always something to bake or someone to cook for, always something to fix. Though . . . she called me for the latter.
My oldest brother’s wife was beautiful, kind-hearted, and tough-skinned—which, she needed to be coming into this family. Mom always said she was the ideal daughter-in-law, setting a high standard for anyone the rest of us might find in the future.
Then again, it might be a good thing Savannah was so perfect, seeing as she might be the only girl to ever marry into the Dixon family. My other two brothers didn’t have plans to settle down anytime soon, and I had no intention of settling down.
Ever.
I rubbed my hands over my face and groaned into them. “You called me screaming and then hung up before I could figure out what was happening. I thought one of the kids was dying or the house wa
s on fire.”
Instead, I found Blossom flame-free and the kids playing in the entryway while Savannah rushed around. The second I set foot inside, she’d started rattling off a list of everything she needed fixed or looked at. Just another morning.
“I figured it was the only way to wake you up and get you here this early,” she said shamelessly. “I have to go and things need fixin’ while I’m gone.”
My brows dropped low over my eyes and I lowered my voice so my niece and nephew wouldn’t hear me. “I was awake. I was buried deep inside someone when you called.”
Savannah wasn’t fazed by my words. I doubted much would shock her after having grown up around us.
She simply rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, calling for the kids to head to the car. When she reached the door, she stopped and gave me a challenging look. “If she was there so early this morning, that means she was there last night. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Tell that to my dick,” I grumbled.
“No one ever said you had to answer your phone, Sawyer. So, why did you?” One of her eyebrows ticked up when I didn’t respond. “You’re welcome for giving you a reason to say good-bye to a clinger.”
Damn her for being right.
Not that I’d tell her that.
I pulled out my phone and shot off a message to my brother, my eyes rolling at his response that sounded eerily similar to Savannah’s.
Me: Your wife cock-blocked me to fix shit even you could’ve done.
Beau: It’s 8am. That means you had a good night. You’ll be fine. Quit bitching and get to work.
Beau: Fan stopped working in Room 4
Me: Since when?
Beau: Since I forgot to tell Savannah. Fix it. Gotta get back to work.
“Asshole,” I murmured.
With a frustrated groan, I forced myself to ignore the aching need for a release and grabbed my earbuds. Once they were in, I turned the music up loud and started working—tackling the hardest project first and leaving the fan for last since I was positive it worked just fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Beau added random shit to Savannah’s fix-it list that didn’t actually need fixing.
You think he’d be nicer to the only brother who still talked to him.
You think Savannah would tell him to.
Then again, she probably knew pushing him to do anything that involved any of his brothers would only drive him to do the opposite.
Savannah knew us all better than we knew ourselves.
She’d been in my life for as long as I could remember. She and Beau had been together almost as long. Only God knew how an uncontrollable bastard like Beau ended up with sweet, gentle Savannah.
Her house had been our only neighbor for miles, our families had spent most holidays together, and at some point in their early teens, my hardened, aggressive brother set his sights on Savannah. They were opposites in every way, but they were never apart after that.
Even when he got suspended from school over and over again for fighting.
Even when he got arrested for not being able to keep his rage in check when someone mouthed off to him or said or did something inappropriate to Savannah.
She stood by his side in public and sighed in disappointment in private. And he’d drop to his knees, begging her to forgive him.
Beau never apologized to our parents for his anger. He just always tried to better himself for Savannah.
That probably should’ve been a massive red fucking flag for how everything would go down years later. But no one was looking at flags back then. My parents were just happy Savannah could get through to him when nothing else had.
She made him want to be better.
Made him be better.
Then they got married and had Quinn and Wyatt. Those damn cute kids with the Dixon dimples.
And scary-as-shit Beau turned into a teddy bear.
Now he fought differently. Silently. Fists lowered and eyes hardened.
We all did.
I sighed when I stopped in front of the door to room four, staring at it for a few moments as I wondered if it was even worth it to check out the fan.
Grabbing my set of keys, I found the master and slid it into the lock to push my way inside.
After a quick glance at the immobile ceiling fan, I flicked the switch on the wall. Then flicked it again and again when there was no movement.
Not that that meant anything.
Moving deeper into the room, I stepped beneath the fan to try the chain before checking the wiring and noticed something that shouldn’t be in the room.
A couple of large suitcases peeked out from behind the other side of the bed, and a smaller one sat wide open on the chair tucked into the far corner of the room.
I tried to remember if Savannah had mentioned this room was occupied . . . but she hadn’t. Because there hadn’t been a job in this room.
Until Beau.
“Shit.”
I turned in time to catch the clock flying at my face.
Chapter 3
Rae
I ran the towel over my hair one last time, then combed my hand through the wet tangles, my movements pausing when a noise came from the bedroom behind me.
My heart sounded absurdly loud to my own ears while I waited for any other noises, but when none came, I slowly resumed finger-combing my hair as my mind raced with crazy, outlandish possibilities.
That unnerving old man is coming for me in his basement.
I’m finally about to wake up from this Mayberry nightmare.
There are ghosts in the stunning Blossom Bed and Breakfast. I mean . . . it is an old, restored plantation house after all.
Haunted. Clearly.
My grandma always said my imagination would take me places . . . not that her words had held any merit. They’d been meant as an insult. Still, it hadn’t stopped me from hoping she might be right, even though I’d never dreamed it would lead me here.
Not here—in Small Town, USA. Looking for answers.
Not here—in this gorgeous bed and breakfast . . . that more than likely wasn’t haunted.
But . . . here. Making a living by telling stories. Giving people an escape from reality. Making them fall in love with love . . . when I ran in the opposite direction of it.
When just the thought of being told those three words terrified me.
I started untying the towel wrapped around my body as I turned to leave the bathroom, craving the comfort of my pajamas and the massive bed waiting for me.
A strangled scream lodged in my throat and I gripped the loosened towel close to my body when I found a tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the middle of my room, facing away from me.
I stumbled, slamming against the doorframe I’d just stepped through as terror flooded me.
I knew that old, creepy bastard was coming back for me.
This is where I die.
Am I already dead? Am I dreaming?
Jesus, Rae. Fight. You know how to defend yourself.
How is this real life?
I shakily searched the top of the chest of drawers I was standing next to, my hand clenching around a rustic clock at the same moment the man tensed and rocked back on his heels.
I launched the clock as he turned, and then I did what I do best . . . ran.
“Wait.”
I sucked in a breath to scream for help when I made it into the hallway but was grabbed and turned, my back crashing into the wall as we tripped over each other in our attempts to go opposite ways.
“Let me ex—”
I shoved my knee into his groin.
He bent.
A harsh breath rushed from him and mixed with his agonized groan.
But the scream I’d been prepared for died when I got a look at his face. My fear of him and my worry briefly disappeared because the old sinister man was no longer sinister . . . or old.
I knew right then I had to be dreaming.
Because eyes couldn’t be that shade of blue. H
air never had that perfect, just-fucked look. Men didn’t look like him.
Except in my stories.
But one was gripping my bare shoulders. In Small Town, USA. In the maybe-haunted Blossom.
It was then I noticed the earbuds hanging from around his neck, music blaring from them . . .
And then he opened his mouth.
“Fucking shit,” he said on another groan before slanting a glare at me. “Let me explain.”
Not a dream.
“Get the hell off me,” I yelled and struggled against his firm hold.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said quickly when I lifted my knee again.
“Talk fast and get your hands off me.”
“Are you gonna run away screaming?”
“Depends on the next words out of your mouth,” I shot back, but thankfully, he reluctantly released my shoulders.
“I didn’t think anyone would be there. You weren’t supposed to be there.”
“In my room?”
“Yeah, in—no. That room wasn’t supposed to be occupied. No one told me it was.” He fell back against the wall opposite me and released a long, drawn-out sigh.
“So, you have a habit of going into rooms you think are vacant?” That’s when I remembered . . . “I locked that door.”
At least, I thought I had.
It had been a long morning. A long twenty-four-ish hours.
“How did you get in?” I demanded.
“My key,” he ground out, his staggering eyes still set in a glare, like he was mad at me for being in the room I’d paid for. “My brother owns this place. I fix things . . . he told me to look at the fan in your room. Didn’t say you would be there.”
Some of the tension left my body now that I knew he wasn’t going to kidnap or kill me. But my tone still held a defensive edge when I said, “Well, I clearly was. If you would’ve knocked, I would’ve let you in.”
“I’m told when the rooms are occupied. There wasn’t a reason to knock on your door.”
A breath of a laugh tumbled from my lips. “I’d say walking out of the bathroom to find you there when I’m mostly naked is a reason to knock.” He opened his mouth, but I continued over him. “As of about thirty minutes ago, that room is mine for the indefinite future. Now someone’s told you it’s occupied, so knock next time. And considering the state you found me in today . . . wait for me to let you in.”
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