Inn the Spirit of Legends

by Becki Willis

  She gave him a withering look. “Suede is so out of season.”

  “A good pair of leather boots never goes out of style. I recommend Clancy’s Western Wear, right on Main.”

  “Let’s get back to the caretakers… Can’t you call them and ask them to come back any sooner?”

  “They haven’t had a vacation in three years, Hannah. They’re visiting family in Florida and then taking a cruise.”

  “But I can’t stay here all alone! I don’t know the first thing about staying in the country.”

  “It’s no different from staying in the city. You get up every morning, do whatever it is you need to do, eat, sleep, and start all over again the next day.”

  “It’s totally different!” she protested. “For one thing, there’s no policemen here.”

  “Sure there are. We have a very capable sheriff’s department with several well-qualified and helpful deputies at your service.”

  “Not on every corner, there’s not!”

  “Because there’s not a criminal on every corner,” he pointed out. “Believe me, you’re safer here than you are in the city. Our crime rate is impressively low.”

  “There are no streetlights!”

  “True. But you can see the stars here. And I can bring you flashlights and lanterns.” When he wasn’t spouting legal jargon, his tone was much more affable. Hannah suspected he might be laughing at her.

  “You honestly expect me to stay here, all alone, out here in the middle of nowhere?” Her voice edged upward with a hint of hysteria.

  “Why? Are you scared?” Judging from his tone, it sounded as if he thought the notion preposterous.

  Hannah’s reply was quick and honest. “Terrified!”

  With a nervous gulp, her eyes darted around the large, airy room. She couldn’t imagine spending an entire night here. Alone. In the dark.

  A thoughtful expression crossed the attorney’s handsome face. His brows puckered in concern. “Let me consult the terms and conditions. I may have an idea,” he offered.

  Not trusting herself to speak, Hannah nodded. Now wasn’t the time to smart off and say something to alienate him, not if he could offer a solution to her staying here alone.

  He gathered his files and binders, and stuffed them into a crate. Hoisting it up like it weighed no more than a feather, he asked, “So, I’ll meet you here at six this evening?”

  Her answer escaped on a resigned sigh. “Yes.”

  “I’ll see myself out then. Feel free to explore on your own.” He tossed the last over his shoulder, but he paused at the threshold with an afterthought. “Oh, and if you see a big white dog, his name is Leroy.”

  She had immediate visions of a fanged beast with glowing eyes. “He’s not dangerous, is he?”

  The lawyer laughed. “Only if you get in the way of his wagging tail and his adoring tongue.”

  Instead of being relieved, Hannah had a new worry.

  Married or not, Walker Jacoby had a very sexy laugh.

  The echo of his sexy laughter faded far too soon. Without it, the old inn was eerily quiet.

  Hannah fought the urge to call him back. What would she say? That she had changed her mind? That this was all a big mistake?

  Both were true.

  However, neither fact changed a thing.

  Hannah sank back into the chair, as the enormity of her situation hit her. What, oh what, had she gotten herself into?

  She felt like falling to the floor and throwing a temper tantrum. Pounding the ground in frustration and railing to the gods. Screaming at the top of her lungs and demanding she get a do-over.

  She had thrown a fit a time or two as a child, with mixed results. The ploy only worked with her mother, and only because Jacqueline Duncan hated making a scene.

  Correction, Hannah thought with a grimace. Her mother hated anyone else making a scene, particularly if it stole attention away from her. The few times Hannah had pulled off a successful tantrum, she had been four years old and living in LA with her mother, where it was best to be seen, and not heard.

  Two years and two attempts later, she discovered throwing a fit didn’t work with her father. Terrell Duncan didn’t mind hearing her scream and cry. He merely walked off and left her squirming in the floor of the Houston department store, staunchly refusing to buy her the toy she wanted.

  With a sigh, Hannah knew throwing a fit hadn’t worked then, and it wouldn’t work now.

  Her body felt a hundred years old as she dragged herself from the chair and forced herself to find the kitchen. If she was going shopping, she had to make a list.

  The kitchen looked a hundred years old. It even had a full-sized, wood-burning, cast-iron stove against one wall. True, its modern-day counterpart stood across the room, but using the term ‘modern’ was generous. The monstrosity was woefully outdated, as was the original farmhouse sink and the commercial refrigerator. Hannah opened the double doors and peeked inside, just to make sure the thing still worked. A blast of cool air hit her in the face as she noted the shelves were completely bare.

  There were a few canned goods in the pantry, canisters of sugar and flour, a generous supply of paper goods, and an unopened box of crackers. Other than that, there was no food left in the inn. Hannah made a note in her phone to buy Everything.

  She started up the stairs to explore her sleeping quarters and what personal items she might need, but a new thought hit her. What if it took her longer than expected in town and it was dark by the time she returned? She couldn’t fathom the idea of returning here in the dark, so she turned around, grabbed her purse, and started for the door. She made certain a light remained burning as she locked the door behind her and hurried to her car.

  As she pulled away from the gate, she wondered what would happen if she simply kept driving and never looked back…

  Fredericksburg looked like a delightful town, but there was no time to explore. By the time Hannah visited the western wear store and Walmart, the afternoon had quickly slipped away.

  Driving back to the town that shared her name felt as if she were driving to her death. Dread welled low in her belly and rumbled in her chest like heartburn. A fine sheen of sweat broke across her brow. Could she do this? Was she strong enough? Brave enough?

  She had little other choice. When Lawrence, Schuster, and McMahon Investments folded, so did her bank account. Her carefully planned career dried up faster than an alcohol wipe. No one wanted to hire David Lawrence’s senior assistant; her close association to the firm left her tainted. And without a job, she could no longer afford her apartment. Without an apartment, she had nowhere to live.

  She could have lived with JoeJoe, of course. He told her she was welcome to stay there, even while he was in Dubai for the month. She would be rattling around in the huge estate all by her lonesome, just her and the contractors he hired to gut and remodel the kitchen and all eight bathrooms. Come to think of it, he realized, staying there might not be such a good idea. Why didn’t she go north, and check out her birthday present? What better, he asked gently, did she have to do?

  Quite honestly, she had all but forgotten the ridiculous gift from four months prior. Her career as senior assistant at the firm kept her much too busy to even think of visiting the popular Texas Hill Country. A week’s vacation was out of the question. The closest she came to taking time off was squeezing in a weekend bachelorette party in New Orleans. When she returned from the rushed trip, the world as she knew it came unraveled at the seams. Accused of embezzling funds from their clients, the firm where she worked fell under government control and all employees were immediately suspended, right along with their retirement accounts. Hannah had been fortunate to escape with her final paycheck and no investigation (at least, none that she knew of.)

  With no job and no immediate prospects for future employment, she had ample time to wallow in self-pity. Making matters worse, with Jill’s wedding, Hannah was officially the odd-woman-out; everyone else in her small group of friends was now
married. That left her with no career, no man, and no friends with which to share her lonely Friday nights.

  With her uncle headed to the Persian Gulf, her furniture headed to storage, and her friends well on their way to marital bliss, Hannah had headed north.

  She blew out a blubbery sigh. Geographically, she may have traveled north, but she was headed south, all right. To a sentence of thirty days in Hannah, without bail.

  Surely hell, or prison, couldn’t be much worse.

  Chapter Four

  Hannah made her second trip from the car, arms filled with groceries and a case of water, when she spotted the biggest dog she had ever seen in her life. It looked more like a white, furry bear on all fours.

  She stopped mid-stride, judging the distance between her and the building, versus her and the car. The inn was closer, but the white beast stood between her and the front door. No matter how big and bulky the animal appeared, she wasn’t betting her life on being able to outrun it.

  Willing herself to breathe deeply, she remembered Walker Jacoby’s words, something about a wagging tail and adoring tongue. She saw neither of those now. She racked her brain, trying to recall the dog’s name.

  Just her luck, she had no trouble recalling the lawyer’s sexy laugh, the one that erased all other thoughts from her head, but absolutely no recollection of the dog’s name.

  “Hi—Hi, there,” she stammered. As an afterthought, she added a personable attempt, her voice wavering, “Doggie.” What was his name? “Nice doggie, if only I could remember what to call you. No, no, don’t come any closer. Is your name Fido? Duke? Benji?”

  The beast stopped, turned its massive head to one side, and gave her a solemn gaze. Hannah saw a flash of teeth.

  Her heart sank down to her toes. “Please tell me it’s not Killer.”

  The dog dropped to its haunches and stared at her with dark, soulful eyes. Even sitting, the beast came as high as her waistline.

  Hannah continued her guessing game. “Whitey? Bear?” She dared to take one step forward.

  Bulk or not, the dog was quick to stand, instantly on alert.

  “I really have to work on my listening skills,” Hannah moaned, chiding herself aloud. She shifted the heavy case of water in her arms, daring another half step forward. “Oh, what did he tell me your name was? I think it was something common. Shaggy? Rover? Maybe it was Rock. No? Rocky, then?”

  The dog’s only response was to come a few steps closer.

  “Wait. Wait. No need to come any closer, now is there, big boy? Max? You look like a Max. Oh, wait, that’s it. It was a man’s name… Jack? Buddy? Charlie? Let’s try Barkley. Sam. Brutus.” Her mind went blank on possible male names. “JoeJoe? Walker?”

  The great white dog stopped and turned his head again, but this time he appeared to be looking just past her. He released a small whine, as if begging her to get it right this time.

  From out of nowhere, the name came to her, as clearly as a whisper in her ear.

  “That’s it! Leroy!” she cried triumphantly.

  The dog’s ears twitched, and Hannah could have sworn his face lit up. His tail began a dance of pleasure.

  “That’s a good boy, Leroy,” she purred. She bit her lip as the giant of a dog pranced its way forward. “Please be as friendly as the lawyer said you were.”

  The large white beast pushed against her, begging for attention, but the unexpected weight threw Hannah off balance. The case of water fell from her arms, barely missing the tip of the dog’s wagging tail.

  “Well, okay, guess my hand is free now,” she muttered. She hesitantly reached out to touch his soft, furry head. “Good doggie. Good, friendly, doggie.” Did psychology work with animals? “We’re friends, right, Leroy? You’re just sniffing me to get to know me, not to size me up for dinner. Right?”

  The dog didn’t answer. “Right, Leroy?” she pressed.

  He opened his mouth, revealing long, needle-sharp cuspids. Hannah tried not to panic. She didn’t know her dog breeds very well, but she thought he was some sort of sheep dog. She racked her brain for a useful snippet of information on the breed. Sheep dogs are friendly, right? Gentle as a lamb, and all that.

  A long, pink tongue fell from the dog’s mouth and wrapped around Hannah’s hand, covering her in dog slobber. “Thanks, Leroy,” she said dryly, trying not to flinch. Not when her hand was still so close to those cuspids and the hot, gaping hole that was his mouth. No need to insult him now, not when he was trying to establish a friendship. “Just what I wanted. Dog slime. Good doggie.”

  Hannah scratched the dog behind the ears and was rewarded with a look of adoration. Friendship firmly intact, she bent to retrieve her case of water and proceeded to the inn, the large white beast dancing around her legs.

  “You’re going to knock me down, you clumsy ox,” she warned with a laugh, but he paid her no heed. When she reached the door, Leroy waited for her to enter first, and then pranced inside behind her.

  “I’m not sure you belong in here, but at least you’re a gentleman,” she muttered.

  As she worked to unload her groceries and stash them away, Hannah discovered that having the dog around made the huge, silent kitchen seem less empty. He watched her traverse back and forth across the space a dozen times before he grew bored and fell asleep.

  When the great beast began to snore, the room was no longer silent.

  “And here I was, thinking we could be roommates,” Hannah clucked to the sleeping giant. “Not sure how much sleep I would get with you in the room.”

  Leroy’s only response was a loud snort of unconcerned slumber.

  By the time Hannah finished stashing away her purchases and changed outfits, she heard the rumble of a truck’s engine. She told herself the stir in her blood was anticipation, not excitement. Walker Jacoby was married. This was merely a surge of relief, and the welcome anticipation of having another living soul on the property. A soul that didn’t shed long white hair and snore like thunder.

  She opened the front door, only to find herself pushed unceremoniously aside as Leroy lumbered his way through the opening. So much for being a gentleman, she sniffed. His large body wiggled and pranced in delight as he ran to greet their guest.

  Hannah watched in resentment as Walker Jacoby laughed and reached down to stroke the white beast on his head. Why did the devil in blue jeans have to be so handsome? It was so much easier to despise an ugly man.

  Parked as he was beneath a canopy of live oak branches, the sunlight filtered through the leaves and glistened in his dark hair, as it would off a raven’s wing as it soared high across a cloudless Texas sky. Why couldn’t the man have a nose like a bird’s beak, Hannah groused, or little beady eyes set close together? He was hawking this ridiculous contract, after all, insisting they follow the letter of the law. Never mind that he was a lawyer and it was his job to enforce the terms of Wilhelmina Hannah’s estate. He didn’t have to enjoy it so much.

  Listen to him now, she fumed silently, laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t. He had unloaded this farce of a sale on her unsuspecting uncle and now she was the one left to pay the price. No wonder he sounded so jovial as he played with the furry giant, twirling him around in the dirt to tangle against his lithe, muscular thighs.

  Not that she really noticed. She was looking more at the dog than she was the denim. Those denim-encased legs, she reminded herself, belonged to his wife, poor woman that she was. Now that Leroy had reared up on his hind legs and placed two dusty, giant paw prints practically on the man’s shoulders, his wife would be taxed with washing away the evidence of their playful encounter. Good thing he had changed from his starched and monogrammed lawyer duds, she thought distractedly, into a t-shirt. The clinging white material was no longer so white as it stretched across his chiseled chest and sinewy arms.

  Serves him right, Hannah sniffed, for wearing something that made him look even more masculine and attractive than he had earlier. But poor Mrs. Jacob
y, who undoubtedly did the laundry for their household. He hardly looked the sort to pitch in with housework.

  “Look what you did, doofus,” Walker scolded the dog, affectionately pushing his hairy playmate away. He brushed at the dusty prints. “Now I’ll have to pre-soak.”

  Reluctant to admit, even to herself, that she could be wrong about his helpfulness around the house, Hannah spoke from the doorway. Shading the filtered sunlight from her eyes, she called, “What breed is that monster, anyway?”

  Noticing her presence for the first time, Walker nudged the dog away with his knee, preventing him from jumping again. “That’s enough rough-housing for now,” he instructed the beast. “Behave yourself. There’s a lady present.” He softened the rebuke by scratching the dog’s massive head. “Leroy here,” he informed Hannah, “is a registered Great Pyrenees. You come from a fine line of guardians, don’t you, boy?”

  “Guardian of sleep,” Hannah muttered, allowing the door to shut behind her as she sauntered forward. “Have you heard that thing snore?”

  Instead of answering, the lawyer assessed her change of clothes. “I see you found more suitable attire for our evening chores.”

  “I’ve heard that goats will eat just about anything. In an effort not to be one of those anythings, I wanted to look as unappetizing as possible.” She indicated her jeans and simple t-shirt, but glanced up just in time to see the glimmer of contradiction in his blue eyes.

  A married man ought not to look at another woman like that, she thought. A married man ought not to find another woman so… appetizing.

  She might have told him so, had her tongue not been tied to the roof of her mouth.

  An awkward moment hovered between them like a visible barrier. Leroy’s sharp bark startled them both out of the moment, as he twirled on his heels and bounded toward Hannah. She deflected his exuberant greeting just in time, stretching her arms outward and laughing him away.

  “Leroy.”

  The sharp ring in the lawyer’s voice quieted the dog immediately. He dropped to his haunches and awaited further command. In a more amiable tone, Walker suggested, “Go feed Henny Penny.”