Call it Fate Page 4

  “She’s a sweet girl. She even made sure I had a pot of tea before I went upstairs.” She held up her cup and gestured behind her. “She always makes sure there are snacks for her guests and anyone who happens to stop by if you want something to eat. Tonight, she even made us a light supper so no one had to go out in the snow. She’s always taking care of everyone. I don’t know what’s left, but she always makes sure the fridge is well stocked. There’s a microwave if you want to warm something up.”

  The older woman moved toward the stairs where I still stood. Her eyes appeared to assess me, frowning, and it was all I could do not to squirm. “Yes, sir, she’s a keeper, that one. Can’t for the life of me figure out why someone hasn’t snatched that girl up. Makes one curious. I wish my Charlie could meet her.”

  She started past me but paused, running her eyes up and down me before they lingered back on mine. “But then, I guess my Charlie isn’t the one for her.” She started up the stairs. “Have a good night, young man.”

  I stared after the lady, her words giving me pause. The description sounded a lot like the Emalee I once thought I knew, but I’d learned the hard and painful way that appearances could be deceptive.

  Trying to shake my thoughts from her, I made my way into the dining area. Four small tables covered in cheerful blue tablecloths sat empty, already set for breakfast. A large sideboard, which looked to be easily over a hundred years old, stood against one wall. A note on top informed me I was welcome to anything. I peeked inside a mini-fridge and found several sandwiches neatly labeled with familiar handwriting.

  I warmed some tomato soup, grabbed some cheese and crackers, and snagged a BLT and water before heading back to my room. Enjoying the warmth of the fire after my long drive, I ate a few bites. One thing hadn’t changed, Emalee was still an excellent cook. Somehow, even the simple food tasted several steps above the norm.

  An hour later, after watching a little TV, the soft comfort of the bed lulled me to sleep, only to be disturbed by memories masked as dreams.

  Chapter 5

  Emalee

  * * *

  It was still dark when I made the short but brisk walk through the breezeway connecting my quarters to the main structure. The inn had originally been a grand house at the end of what became Main Street. It had been built well over a century ago by one of my many-times great grandfathers, who was one of the original founders of Sterling Mill.

  When my great, great grandmother was widowed in World War I, she rented the spare bedrooms for income. It stayed in the family, and over the years, it became known as The Dogtrot Inn—named for the mountain-style architecture that had been the original house before it transitioned into the grand one people saw today. My grandmother turned it into a true bed-and-breakfast during her days.

  After my own mother was no longer able to run it after her injuries, I’d taken over managing it for her and was adding my own spin, mainly bringing it into modern times with a website and refreshing it to look more like what people expected from an elegant bed-and-breakfast, a hidden gem in the mountains.

  Part of my duties included preparing a breakfast that was to be served by seven-thirty every morning. I put on the apron boasting the inn’s logo and began pulling the ingredients I needed to make fresh muffins and Belgian waffles. I’d chosen a simple breakfast in which I could fix everything almost blind because, after a sleepless night, I strained to keep my eyes open and my mind on task.

  Cooking had always been a refuge of sorts for me. I wasn’t especially good at school, but mixing ingredients into something tasty seemed to come naturally to me, maybe because I’d been at my grandma’s and mama’s side next to the big worktable and oven ever since I could remember.

  It was my favorite room in the house, not only filled with good smells but also wonderful memories. In the kitchen, I could be creative and escape into the flavors and aromas that were enticing, yet familiar and comforting, the way I thought food should be. And I needed the luxury of my routine this morning more than ever.

  Seeing Zach had been a shock. After weeks of trying to track him down and tell him about my pregnancy with no luck, it was hard to believe he just happened to show up in my town, at my little bed-and-breakfast, years later.

  Reflecting back on last night, Zach seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He was even better looking than my memories afforded him. There were plenty of good-looking men in my town. They were just of the more rugged variety—scruffy chins or a full beard and jeans and flannel shirts. Most were strong and lean; living in an outdoorsy environment tended to build muscles without the need for a gym.

  But the man who’d checked in last night had been a completely different kind of handsome. He carried a kind of confidence that was at once sexy and intimidating. It wasn’t built from arrogance but from the confidence that he always rose to the top like the cream collected from the milk bucket, no matter what he tackled.

  He’d always liked to run, and his trim waistline suggested he still did, but he looked like he’d added some bench pressing into his workout. His cable-knit sweater highlighted broader shoulders and bulkier arms than I remembered. His strong jawline was still clean shaven, although it had already been darkened by a five o’clock shadow when he’d arrived

  From head to tailored pants and designer shoe clad toes, Zach looked every inch a man used to being a figure of authority, and I suspected he’d gone on to fulfill his father’s dream of becoming a highly successful lawyer.

  But it was his eyes that had changed the most. Seeing those once warm green flecks stare at me with such anger before turning emotionless had been heartbreaking. But whatever had made him mad before was nothing compared to what he would inevitably find out.

  How did I tell him he was a daddy? Should it be like ripping off a Band-Aid? Did I lead up to it in some way? Could I get away without telling him at all?

  As tempting as it was to keep things status quo, I could never do that to him. I’d never meant to deceive Zach in the first place. But circumstances had been beyond my control, and by the time I tried to find him to let him know we’d created a baby, he’d disappeared. God only knew what story his father spun to him, and it had been a daily prayer that I never heard from Emmerson Abbott again.

  The one thing I was certain about was I wouldn’t introduce Zach to Iain before we had time to talk. I had no idea what Zach’s reaction would be, but I didn’t want Iain to be a witness to anything ugly. My son grew attached easily, and if he figured out Zach was his daddy, he’d make the great leap to thinking there would be an instant bond. I couldn’t imagine Zach would turn his back on his own son, but I hadn’t thought he’d betray me, either.

  Round and round, my wooden spoon kept the same pace as the thoughts that whirled through my head. I paused to divide the batter in half and set some aside for blueberries while I added cranberries and orange rind to the rest and went back to stirring.

  Zach never explained why he was here. Since he seemed as surprised to see me as I was him, I guessed it didn’t have anything to do with me. Unless he knew I lived in town but not at The Dogtrot? Maybe he already knew about Iain. No, he would have mentioned it, right?

  Plop. I practically flung the batter into the muffin pan.

  But what would his reaction be when he found out? Would he understand what happened hadn’t been my fault? Would he try to sue for custody? Surely, no judge would allow Iain to be taken from me. But what about visitations? Where did Zach live? Iain had never been away from me except for a couple of nights at Chase’s farm. And—oh, god—what about Zach’s family? I didn’t want my child anywhere around them.

  Plop. Plop. Plop. Slam. The oven door rattled a few of my dishes as I shut it harder than necessary.

  I had to be smart about this; I couldn’t risk Iain being taken from me. I just needed a few days to figure out how to tell Zach. Then maybe we could work things out peaceably.

  Faint footsteps overhead alerted me my guests were beginning to stir. Knowing I couldn’t greet them with the scowl I’d built up, I helped myself to more of the coffee I’d set up to auto-start the night before. As the warm perk spread through me, I felt my earlier annoyance begin to ease. Zachary Abbot had taken enough of my tears and frustration; I wasn’t going to let him ruin my morning. Instead, I focused on the breakfast that usually earned excellent reviews.

  An hour later, a door slammed, and Iain burst into the dining room where I was setting up the chaffing dishes to keep the food warm so guests could help themselves. Small arms wrapped around my legs.

  “Mama! Look at all the snow!”

  It didn’t matter that this was about our fourth snowstorm of the season. My boy loved the snow. I kneeled and hugged him back. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe we can go sleddin’ later.” His eyes were bright with hope.

  “Maybe, but first breakfast, then school, all right, buddy?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Just once, I wish we’d get out of school for snow.”

  It was a frequent wish that only came true once in a while. Hans hadn’t been wrong; it was a much bigger storm than originally predicted. But being in the Tennessee mountains, Sterling Mill was used to keeping things plowed and moving. Only a few roads in the upper regions were closed until the trucks could reach them.

  I laughed. “Better luck next time.”

  “Can I have cereal? Please?”

  I shook my head in amusement. Iain was so used to having homemade breakfasts, he didn’t recognize how lucky he was to have a hot meal every morning. I reached out to rub his head, but he rolled his eyes and ducked. My little boy was growing up and didn’t always appreciate those motherly gestures. “Sure. Go for it.” I watched him take off for the kitchen where we ate, away from th
e guests but close enough to keep an eye on things.

  Mama came in, leaning heavily on her cane. The cold weather was hard on her leg, but she never complained. “Good morning, baby girl. You seemed restless last night.”

  By the time I got home last night, I didn’t say anything to my mom about Zach. I played a game with Iain and got him ready for bed. My mom wasn’t far behind. I’d stayed up, too restless to open up the couch I used for a bed. I tried watching a movie on TV, but I couldn’t focus, so I ended up reorganizing the coat closet. I should have known she’d hear me pacing across the ancient, creaky floorboards. Sleep came hard for her some nights, too.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you awake. I had a lot on my mind.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  I shook my head. I’d have to update her, but with breakfast to serve in a few minutes, now wasn’t the right moment. “Later,” I promised as I double-checked that everything was ready.

  By the time the first guests arrived downstairs, they were greeted with silver trays and bowls full of bacon, sausage, fresh biscuits, scrambled eggs, Belgian waffles, cut fruit, and a variety of juices and coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Crawley came in next, followed shortly by a much younger couple who I hadn’t been able to get to know very well. They were obviously honeymooners. Her face was flushed, and his eyes were satisfied as his hand hovered around her waist. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they’d been up to this morning.

  She smiled at me. “This looks so delicious. I’m so glad we stayed here. This place is absolutely wonderful, isn’t it, honey?”

  He nodded, but given the loving look he gave her, I had a feeling he’d agree to almost anything she said.

  I smiled, pleased with the compliment. “Thank you.”

  I spent a few minutes speaking to each guest, wanting to ensure they had a pleasant stay. I suggested sites to see while they were here and listened for ways I could improve their experience.

  I kept fussing with things, trying to expend my nervous energy. Four of the five rooms were accounted for in the dining room. That left only one guest to arrive. Maybe I’d get lucky, and he wasn’t a breakfast eater. Maybe he wouldn’t come down until after Mama left to take Iain to school.

  Heavy footsteps behind me proved luck wasn’t on my side.

  Taking a breath, I turned to face him. Keeping my voice as professional as I could, I greeted him. “Good morning. Breakfast is self-serve, but if there’s anything you need and don’t see, I’ll be happy to help.”

  I watched him glance around the tables I’d set with my grandmother’s white dishes and topped with a fanned navy blue napkin. A simple red carnation, courtesy of my cousin Chase’s nursery, was in a glass vase centered at each table. The silverware was laid out along with a pretty juice glass and a coffee cup ready to go. I loved understated yet elegant rooms, and I was proud of what I’d recreated here. I glanced at Zach’s face, trying to gauge his reaction; I hated that I cared what he thought of it.

  I dragged myself away before he could say anything and walked across the foyer to the living room. I pulled back the drapes to let in some natural light. The Dogtrot was at the end of town, but through the large bay window, I could see shop owners clearing the sidewalk to their doors and sprinkling salt to keep it from refreezing. I could feel the cold air on the panes and tugged my cardigan a little closer.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  I jumped at Zach’s words. I hadn’t heard anyone follow me.

  “I’m from here.” I guessed he’d forgotten that information. Or he’d never cared enough to remember in the first place. Then again, we’d never really talked about where we were from since we were so focused on the future.

  “Mmm.” I could tell he was waiting for me to say more and was disappointed when I didn’t. From the first time we’d met, there had been such an instant connection. I’d felt comfortable with him. Now, there was a pocket of awkwardness between us. I knew why I was nervous, but not him. I’d never seen him anything but confident. Maybe he felt guilty that the last time he’d seen me was naked in his bed, knowing he’d planned to cheat on me as soon as he crawled out of it.

  “Is there something you need?” The words came out snippier than I meant, causing the muscle in his jaw to tighten and his forehead to crease.

  “Now that you ask, an explanation would be nice.” His tone was equally frosty.

  “Excuse me?”

  His eyes grew hard, the green hues swirling in the same dark way I’d once seen during a severe thunderstorm. I almost shivered, waiting for the emotional storm that was sure to come. “Is this where you ran off to when you disappeared? When you up and left me confused and wondering what the hell had happened to you?”

  “I left you confused?” I fired back. “What about leaving me that night? I assumed you’d be glad that I wasn’t there to mess up plans with your side piece. Oh wait, I guess I was the side piece.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “As if you don’t know.”

  His glare was glacial. “I really don’t. But you have some of your facts backward.”

  A clink of glasses and an outburst of laughter from the dining room behind us seemed to remind us both that we weren’t alone.

  “Fuck,” he muttered as he dragged a hand through his thick hair. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I can’t do this right now.”

  That was fine with me.

  “But we still need to talk. Soon.”

  I gave him a curt nod. As I stepped around him, I accidentally brushed his arm and felt the zing of the electricity that zapped between us. It would have been easy to explain it away as static from the cold, dry air, but it felt like so much more.

  Chapter 6

  Zach

  * * *

  Back in my room—sans breakfast—I grabbed my wallet and keys, ready to storm back downstairs and head for a job I didn’t want.

  Check that. I wanted to do the job, just not here. I wanted to be back in my nice penthouse with my loyal dog, headed to a state-of-the-art animal hospital, focusing on my goals rather than being submersed with memories of Emalee Dawson.

  I caught a look in the mirror over the desk and was caught off guard by the reflection. Sure, the khaki pants and dark blue button-down with the checked tie were sharply pressed and professional looking for the job, but the man wearing them looked weary.

  Despite the comfort of the bed, I’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to rid myself of Emalee’s image. But there had been no pushing her out of my mind; I’d still woken up hard and aching for her. It hadn’t gone away until I’d taken things into my own hands, literally. It had only taken a few soap-slicked tugs, and I’d come hard over the tiled walls of the shower. I felt marginally better until I thought of her cleaning the bathroom, which led to thoughts of her in the shower—naked—and I’d been aroused again. Fuck.

  This morning, I’d been determined to eat, go on my way, and focus on the job I was sent to do. But then I heard her laugh and greet the other patrons, making them all feel special. I remembered that warm, dulcet, southern drawl having the same effect on me once.

  Lies.

  It was all acting, and they were falling for it the same as I had. The only difference is they only turned over their money; I’d lost my heart.

  The smart thing to do would have been to ignore her as best I could, keep my head down, do my job, and leave as soon as possible. Yet one look at her beautiful face with those whiskey-colored eyes and sweet smile that faded as she greeted me, and all rational thought fled. Instead, I’d followed her into another room and demanded answers, brought on by a need to understand how I’d been fooled so easily into thinking she’d once had real feelings for me. I was pissed at her, and even more pissed at myself for giving a damn.

  And then she played the victim card, insinuating I’d cheated on her.

  More lies.

  She’d practically bolted from me the first chance she could without it looking bad in front of her guests. It probably made me an asshole for checking out her ass as she escaped, but damn, it was still hot in those tight jeans she wore.