3

      “How’d you find me?”

      When she heard the accusation in his voice, Eve realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. She was so used to being associated with Little Mary’s it took her aback that he thought she was the one out of place. “What?”

      “I said, how did you find me? Did you follow me?”

      Judging by the impatience on his face, he wasn’t happy about that idea. Perhaps he’d connected with other women who hadn’t understood the meaning of “I’m not interested.”

      “Of course not! I would never force my attentions on you or any man.”

      His gaze shifted to the tray she was carrying. “Then how come you’re here, bringing me breakfast?”

      “I own this place! I serve a lot of people breakfast,” she said. “I had no idea you were one of my guests, Mr. Taylor. If you’ll remember, you told me your name was Jared.” She met most of the people who stayed at Little Mary’s. She bumped into them as they wandered around the property, enjoying the garden, walking to or from the private hot tub, sitting in the alcoves where they could watch the sunset or having breakfast or tea in the dining room. But the only place she’d ever seen Mr. Taylor was at the bar once she’d left work. She’d assumed he was at A Room with a View if he was in town. “When did you check in?”

      “Last night around seven.”

      That explained it. He’d come when Cecelia was on duty. “Meeting up again like this is...is merely an unfortunate coincidence,” she said. “But there’s a second B and B in Whiskey Creek, so you have another option. It’s called A Room with a View and it’s just down the street. You might want to move there.” She handed him his tray. “Come downstairs when you’re done and I’ll get you checked out.”

      When his eyes widened, she could tell she’d managed to surprise him, but she didn’t care. She meant what she’d said. She wanted him gone. Losing his business would cost her a few bucks, but at least she’d be able to avoid him.

      “Wait, are you kicking me out?” he called after her.

      She’d started for the stairs, but she turned and lowered her voice so their exchange wouldn’t be heard by any guests who might be in nearby rooms. Staying at Little Mary’s was all about peace and beauty and tranquility. For most people, anyway. The rumor that the place was haunted brought others. But she sold an experience, and she was determined to make that experience one her clientele could rely on.

      “I wouldn’t state it quite that strongly,” she whispered, tossing a worried glance at the closest door. Hopefully, the couple staying in Room 3 was at breakfast. That was where they should be, since they’d signed up for the nine-thirty sitting. “I’m just suggesting you find other accommodations.”

      “Because...”

      “I wouldn’t want to ruin your stay by fawning over you the way you obviously assume I will.” She manufactured an exaggerated wink. “This is your chance to escape another man-hungry woman.”

      He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t stick around to witness any more of his reaction. She wanted to get away as quickly as possible. She had things to do. And the faster he ate and packed, the faster she could put last night behind her and go on with life as usual. She didn’t need a love interest. She’d find other worthwhile things to fill her life. Things like—

      “Eve...”

      He was standing at the top of the stairs when she turned back.

      “I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready,” she responded. Then she was too far away for him to say more.

      But when he appeared a half hour later, he wasn’t carrying any luggage—not even a duffel bag. And he didn’t approach her to check out. He cut through the dining room, nodding to Deb when she wished him a good morning and strode out the front door.

      What the heck?

      Eve started after him. She’d been serious when she suggested he go elsewhere. But he was walking so fast, she’d have to run to catch up with him—and she wasn’t prepared to go that far. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene.

      Maybe he had plans. Maybe he’d move later.

      Cheyenne came up beside her as she hesitated at the front desk, wondering whether he would or wouldn’t check out—and what she could do to make her life feel more complete.

      “I’m going to start cleaning the downstairs rooms,” she said. “Deb’s tackling the upstairs.”

      “Sounds good.”

      “Did you meet the people in Room 1? Do you think we’ll be able to get in there soon to make the bed and straighten up?”

      She could’ve explained to Cheyenne that the bed hadn’t been slept in, that there was only one occupant and it was the stranger she’d taken home last night. But she didn’t. Since she preferred to let it all fade away, she figured she might as well let that process begin now.

      “Eve? Did you hear me?” Cheyenne asked.

      She’d been too preoccupied to answer. “Room 1 is empty,” she said.

      “Okay. I’ll have Deb do that room while she’s up there.”

      “That’d be great,” Eve mumbled. But then she called Cheyenne back. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yeah, I’ve got it.” If Mr. Taylor wasn’t going to leave, as she’d requested, she’d start her new lease on life by satisfying what she could of her curiosity.

      * * *

      “You’re going to go crazy here.”

      Rex looked up from the picnic table where he was signing the payroll checks for All About Security, Inc. “Why?”

      His middle-aged assistant—a wife and mother of three who reminded him of Melissa McCarthy with her big red hair and the pound of hairspray that shellacked it—smirked as she gazed around. She’d worked for him since he first opened his doors three years ago and always took good care of him. But he’d never appreciated her more than he did now that he’d been flushed out of his comfort zone. Although she had an opinion about everything and generally felt free to voice it, she could also use discretion when necessary. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “So Christmassy, with all the lights on the old-fashioned shops and stuff. But you like the city, and you normally work 24/7. If this hiding-out thing goes on much longer, you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

      He gave her a sardonic smile. “Hiding out? Come on. This is my dream vacation. Loads of people would love to get away and enjoy nature as they pan for gold.”

      “Dream vacation, my ass,” she muttered.

      Her choice of words shocked him a little when she swore, but he found her language kind of funny, too, coming from someone who looked like a 1950s housewife with her floral button-up shirts and ankle pants.

      “For you, this is hell,” she added with even more conviction. “You’ve been traveling from one town to the next for more than a week. And it’s been too cold to do much outside.”

      “At least I’m still in one piece.” So far, he’d whiled away the hours by working on his laptop. After posting a help-wanted ad on Craigslist, he’d been poring through résumés—pondering each one much longer than