It wasn’t his good looks that arrested her attention—though he had those in abundance—but his air of intensity.
“Hi there. I’m Grace, one of the innkeepers.” Her words wobbled. She slipped behind the desk, glad for the buffer. “How can I help you?”
“Saw your sign as I was passing by. Looking for a place to stay.” His voice was low and pleasantly rumbly.
He appeared to be in his thirties. She scanned his face and altered her opinion. Midtwenties with the confidence of someone older.
“I think we can help you out.” Grace opened the appropriate window on the computer.
“It’s probably too early to check in.”
“The rooms have already been cleaned, so it’s no problem. How long will you be staying?”
“Not sure. A few days, maybe a few weeks if possible.”
She tried to act unaffected, but it was hard when he was sizing her up with emotionless eyes. She was suddenly conscious of her messy ponytail and freshly scrubbed face.
“We’re all clear except the weekend of October third. We have a private wedding scheduled.”
“If I’m here that long, I’ll figure something out.”
“Great.” She quoted the weekday and weekend rates.
“That’s fine.”
Grace took his card and information. Wyatt Jennings—nice name. She tried to keep her eyes on the screen, tapping the keys with fingers that were oddly clumsy. Her heart, too, seemed to be doing some weird kind of flutter, and the discomfort left her hoping Wyatt Jennings might limit his stay to a few days.
He stood a few feet from the desk, hands at his sides, posture rigid, gray duffel bag at his feet. He was dressed casually, but his clothes were crisp and neat, not a wrinkle in sight. He wore that tucked-in black T-shirt like a second skin, the short sleeves hugging an impressive pair of biceps. A tattoo peeked out from beneath one of the sleeves.
Stop staring.
“What brings you to the area?” she asked, by way of making conversation.
He ran his fingers through his short, almost-black hair. “A little R & R.”
She paused a moment, waiting for him to expound, but he didn’t. If she were Molly she’d keep at it until she knew the man’s city of origin, marital status, and social security number. But she wasn’t Molly.
“Well, this is a great place to rest up, especially this time of year. The weather’s still nice, but the trails and lake aren’t swamped with tourists.”
She clacked away, hitting wrong keys and backing up to delete her mistakes. She was vaguely aware that his gaze shifted around the lobby and the connected living room. She had a feeling if she asked him to close his eyes and recount the visual details of the rooms, he might score better than she did.
“All right, Mr. Jennings,” she said when she finished. “We’re all set.”
“It’s just Wyatt.”
When his eyes returned to hers, the full impact of his attention made her lungs empty. His brown eyes were set deep beneath a pair of masculine brows. He was neither frowning nor smiling. She wondered briefly what that might look like. The smile, not the frown. She already knew she didn’t want to see him unhappy.
She slid his key across the desk. “Wyatt, then. I’m Grace, one of the owners. Maybe I already said that.” She paused, but when he simply slid the key into his back pocket, she went on. “Let me give you a little tour before I show you to your room. You can leave your bag behind the counter if you’d like.”
He didn’t really seem like the tour type—or the inn type for that matter—but he followed her down the hall anyway.
“The Bluebell Inn was built in 1905 and was the town’s very first inn. It featured ten bedrooms. Early on it was a stagecoach stop, then for years it housed the post office, till it was sold in 1978 and turned into the governor’s summer home.” She nearly added that he shared a last name with the governor, but that seemed like the kind of trivial detail he wouldn’t care about. “My parents purchased the home when my siblings and I were young, so we had the pleasure of growing up here.”
Unlike Levi and Molly, she always skipped over the part about their parents’ deaths and their desire to fulfill their parents’ dream. She could do without the pity.
The hallway’s walls closed in, the space almost buzzing with Wyatt’s presence. She was grateful to enter the more open space of the library.
“My brother, sister, and I run the place now, and I also