He gave her a long look, which she felt to the tips of her lime-green toenails. Her gaze fell to the duffel bag he’d carried with him.
“Um, this is our library, obviously, and you’re welcome to use it and borrow books if you like. Let me show you the restaurant.” She gave him a smile—unreturned—as she passed him on the way back out. A clean masculine scent wrapped around her and, unwittingly, she drew in a deep breath.
She gestured toward the back door. “The lake’s out that way, of course. We have a small boat that’s available on a sign-out basis and a pier with a bench, a favorite spot to watch the sunset.” He did not seem like the sunset type.
“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the area’s natural attractions, but pamphlets are in the lobby, and someone is almost always at the desk. We’re happy to help with recommendations, directions, or anything else you need.”
As they passed through the lobby she gestured toward the small glass dome on the desk. “Our cook, Miss Della, is famous for her sweets. Every afternoon you’ll find complimentary cookies here.” Remembering his stellar physique she added, “And also, fresh fruit.”
They proceeded through the living room, and she stopped at the French doors leading to the restaurant.
He scanned the space, still saying nothing.
She headed back toward the lobby. “Breakfast is included in the cost of your room, and we also have a lunch and supper menu, which comes in handy. You’ll find a lot of restaurants close during the week or on rainy days or, you know, when the owner has a hangnail.”
Very professional, Grace. She winced.
“If you’ll follow me upstairs, I’ll show you to your room.”
When she made the turn to the second floor, she paused, mostly to make sure he was still there. “Any questions so far?”
“Is there a workout room?”
“Um, no, but we have an arrangement with Jim’s Gym. You can use it since you’re staying here. Also the yoga studio in town.”
His eyebrow arched, he gave her a long, steady look.
Okay, no on the yoga. “There’s a pamphlet downstairs with details.”
She continued up the stairs, then down the hall, and stopped at the first door on the left, room seven, tucked into a little alcove.
She gestured toward the door, giving her best professional smile. “And here we are.”
He slid past, almost brushing her in the tight space.
Her smile wobbled as her breath caught. “Um, please let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
He gave a nod.
Grace turned away, fighting the strange urge to scurry back down the hall.
Chapter Three
Grace had two tasks in mind as she hunched over the laptop’s keyboard. Okay, three. One, she needed to find an affordable space for her business, preferably in downtown Bluebell. Two, she needed to know at which sites to list the inn. Three, she had to distract herself from the noises coming from Wyatt’s room overhead. She’d already figured out from the repetitive noises he must be working out. She briefly considered bringing him that gym pamphlet, but there was a line between helpful and overbearing, and she liked to stay on the right side of it.
Why was he at the inn? He wasn’t their usual customer. They catered mostly to couples from young to elderly, or sometimes families with small children. Maybe he was here to hike—there were certainly plenty of trails to keep him busy. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to bother with an Airbnb. Maybe he liked starting his day with a full stomach.
And maybe it was time to get down to the real question at hand: Why was she so fascinated with him? It wasn’t just his pretty face. She’d come across many of those. Perhaps it was the confidence he exuded. Or the way he seemed so at ease—not with his environment necessarily but with himself.
And how could she even know these things from their brief encounter?
Grace scowled at the screen. She was failing monumentally at number three.
She slipped off the stool and wandered into the dining room to see if Miss Della needed help in the kitchen. When the siblings decided to open the inn, Mom’s best friend graciously offered her outstanding cooking skills—and, occasionally, some unsolicited advice. But that was mostly reserved for Grace, the baby of the family.
She found Miss Della rolling out a lump of pie dough, her dark hands working the roller with expert precision. Her short, wash-and-go hair called attention to