"Dad, I love you." Daniel claimed the dog leashes and kissed Thea's gorgeous mouth right there in front of everyone. Kissed her hard, staking a very clear claim. By the time he lifted his head, she was just the way he liked her: breathless and weak in the knees, her frown gone. "I'm gonna miss you. You gonna miss me?"
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
He grinned at her before turning to Virgil. "Come on, Dad. Let's get you to Anthony's before my girlfriend decides I'm not worth the hassle." Weatherman wouldn't do anything untoward in front of his coworkers.
Daniel met Thea's widening gaze; her shamrock eyes were bright. "Call me if you need me for anything. I mean it. Otherwise I'll see you on our run because, yes, the dogs and I are going with you. Also, you owe me a glass of golden milk, and I will collect. With interest."
*
DOROTHEA COULD ONLY NOD, caught up in the whirlwind that was Daniel Porter. Was this what life as his girlfriend was going to be like? Every morning she would be trapped in a tumult of sensation, emotion, surprise and longing?
Well, sign her up for an eternity.
"Golden milk," she said. "Check. I'll make it after our run." She'd never had a jogging partner, but she'd always wanted one. "Our run. The one we'll be doing together."
"If the ex bothers you, let me know and I'll take care of it," Daniel added, and he wasn't exactly quiet about it. He kissed her again, quickly this time, before taking off with his dad and the dogs.
Her hand fluttered to her chest. What a man.
Jazz turned his glare on her, and Charity offered her a bright smile, this one genuine.
Just think of the money they're going to pay you.
Four guests for four nights at double her usual rate--because why not?
She put everyone on the second floor and passed out keys. "For breakfast, coffee and muffins are free of charge. If you want something more substantial, call room service or visit the dining room to place an order." Now that Carol had returned, the inn could offer hot meals rather than just snacks. "The kitchen is open for lunch and dinner, as well."
"Please, Dorothea," Jazz said. "Talk to me. I have so much to tell you."
Anger flickered in Charity's irises, the edges made ragged by...fear? She was scared of losing him, wasn't she?
Ugh. Why would she want to keep him?
"Jazz!" Holly's voice rang out.
Cheering up, Jazz turned. "Holly!"
Her sister ran to her ex and threw herself into his arms. He twirled her around.
"I've missed you so much," Holly said.
"I've missed you, too, squirt."
Seeing them, Dorothea's heart hurt. When she'd first returned to town, she'd longed for this kind of welcoming reception from her sister. What she'd gotten instead? A bubble pop in her face and a snarled "And I didn't think my life could suck worse."
"Are you staying here?" Holly asked Jazz, ignoring everyone else.
"I sure am." He dangled his key in front of her. "Four nights."
She clapped like the happy child she used to be. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."
There went the progress they'd made, Dorothea thought with a sigh.
Jazz tossed her a do-you-see-how-good-we-can-be-together look over his shoulder. One Dorothea disregarded. He was part of a past she never wanted to revisit. But, no lie, it had felt good, really good, to show her ex how amazing her life had turned out without him. Sure, she hadn't lived all of her dreams, but she was happy, and dang if she couldn't make new dreams.
Unlike the crewmen, Charity didn't follow the pair. She reached over the counter to take Dorothea's hand. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way things happened. I never meant for you... But I loved... I'm sorry," she finished lamely. "And I'd like us to be friends, Dorothea."
Uh, what now?
"I admit I was worried when Jazz pitched your hometown to the network," she continued. "I thought you'd try to steal him away from me, but I can see you have your own man now."
Was this girl for real? She thought Dorothea had her own man now. Now. As if she hadn't before. Where was Charity's moral compass?
"I'll be honest," Dorothea said, extracting her hand "I don't ever see us becoming friends."
Delicate shoulders wilted yet again. "Yeah. I thought you might say that. I didn't mean to insult you or your inn. I was just... I want Jazz to fall in love with me again. He broke up with me, you know? For no reason! I did nothing wrong. I cater to his every whim. I thought maybe if I made him see he doesn't belong here, he'd--"
"I don't want to hear this." And yet she almost asked why Charity wanted to keep a man slimy enough to have an affair, even if the affair had been with her.
"Of course not," Charity said. "I understand. But I really would--"
Dorothea didn't wait for her to finish. She walked around the counter and out of the building, leaving Charity in the lobby. Shake it off. She jogged in place for a moment, warming up, breathing in and out with purpose. The sun was shining, a beautiful roll cloud consuming the sky. Birds were chirping.
Her mother was currently pruning the rosebushes in front of the inn, where a plot of grass separated sidewalk from street. "The guests need a pretty view," she liked to say. The buds were starting to bloom and scent the air.
"Morning, my dear," Carol said. A hat shielded her face from the sun's glare.
"Morning, Momma." She made no mention of Virgil's confession. What good would it do? Carol would feel bad for gossiping, and Dorothea would feel guilty for making her feel bad. But lesson learned. Carol couldn't be trusted with her secrets. "I'll be back in about an hour. You've got your phone, right? The guests might ring you for a meal. And if anyone else shows up wanting a room--"
"I'll see to them, don't you worry." Carol wiped her dirt-covered gloves together. "Daniel told me to tell you he's waiting for you at Anthony's, and you aren't to leave him behind."
"Great. Thanks." One step away, that was as far as she got.
"I noticed he stayed the night at the inn," her mother continued.
Tread carefully. "He does that sometimes."
"I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, young lady. I know he stayed in your room."
"Well, we're dating." Openly! "That's going to be happening quite a bit in the near future."
Carol frowned at her. "I hope you know what you're doing. He's--"
"A wonderful man. I know." And that's my cue to go. Dorothea kicked off.
When she reached Style Me Tender, she jogged in place, watching as Daniel played with the dogs. He noticed her and smiled a special smile. One she'd never seen before. One she liked to think was for her alone. Rays of sunlight spilled over him, his masculinity on full display.
But the special smile didn't last long. A shadow of concern passed over his features.
Concern for what?
"Hey, Virgil. Hey, Anthony," she said with a wave. The two were at their table, playing checkers.
"Hello again, Miss Dorothea." Virgil padded over to kiss her cheek. "Now, I want you to know something. I'm not sorry for gettin' stern with the pretty boy back there. He did you wrong, and that'll never be okay in my book." His gaze slid to his son. "Not ever. I'll tan the hide of anyone who breaks your heart, and I mean that."
Anthony nodded his agreement, and she wanted to laugh. They were acting like fathers--hers rather than Daniel's. The way fathers were supposed to act.
"That's enough out of you two." Daniel handed her Echo's leash--actually, he presented it to her, as if he were making a point about something--and she gladly accepted. "Get ready for the workout of a lifetime."
"I'm stronger than I look. This pup isn't going to get the better of me."
"Just you wait."
They started off slowly, teaching the dogs to stay at their sides and not buck or lunge when squirrels and cars passed. Soon sweat beaded on her forehead, trickled down her temples. Echo yanked the leash so many times Dorothea lost count, and her arms began to burn more than her legs.
> "Okay. You were right. This is not easy." She was already huffing and puffing. "I feel like I'm the one being walked."
They ran another few blocks before the dogs calmed. Huffing and puffing himself, Daniel said, "Are you going to be okay?"
She knew what he meant. Was she going to be okay with her ex and his girlfriend-non-girlfriend staying at the inn, a constant reminder of what she'd lost?
Daniel knew only about the divorce, not her precious Rose.
A whimper escaped her. A whimper Daniel misinterpreted.
"Do you still love him?" The question lashed like a whip.
"I do not."
"You sure? I distinctly remember you telling me that love lasts forever."
"Real love does. With Jazz, I had attachment and gratitude, nothing more." Even back then, her heart had belonged to Daniel. She saw the truth now.
I think you're perfect just the way you are.
It was funny how one sentence--one moment--could impact a life forever.
He stopped and she did the same, realizing they'd come full circle. They were back in front of the salon.
"Why did you look like you wanted to cry?" he asked.
A car drove past and honked. Virgil and Anthony waved at the driver and pretended not to eavesdrop when it was obvious they were straining to hear every word.
"Let's talk about it later." Or never.
No, she had to tell him. He deserved to know the truth. And she needed to be prepared for any reaction. Unconcern. Pity.
Pity might kill her.
He turned away, his posture rigid. "Come on. We should probably return to the inn."
The abrupt change in his mood threw her. What had she done? Besides temporarily deny his request for more information. He'd done the same to her on multiple occasions, and she hadn't thrown a fit.
Men! Were they even worth the hassle?
As Daniel jogged away, sweat trickling between his shoulder blades, his butt tight in his running shorts, his muscles bunching, she sighed. Yes. Yes, they were. At least, this one was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE NEXT THREE DAYS passed in a blur. With the increased number of guests, Dorothea's duties expanded. She cleaned the rooms, did all the laundry and helped her mother in the kitchen. She also hunted for knickknacks for the theme room. As soon as she clocked out, Daniel would take her on a date, every night ending in a different location...or locations--wherever they happened to be when his control snapped. In a dark alley. In his bedroom at his dad's house. In a car, which he parked on the side of the road. Once, he took her to a field of wildflowers and, lit by his truck's headlights, seduced her on the hood.
As they'd lain wrapped together in the dark of night, a full golden moon steeping the moment in romance, he'd said, "I'm running a background check on Jazz. A dirty one, where we dig into all the hidden nooks and crannies."
"Why?" she'd asked. "I mean, other than the obvious. He's my ex, yes, but he has no part in our relationship."
"I don't like the way he's stalking you. What if he's dangerous?"
"He's not." He was just annoying.
More than a dozen times, Jazz had cornered her. Just to talk, he'd said. To explain the terrible mistake he'd made, to make things right with her. He hadn't wanted to cheat on her, he'd added, but he'd needed the job--for her, to be the one to support their family; that meant he'd needed Charity's approval. But through it all, he'd never stopped loving Dorothea. Blah, blah, blah.
The only thing he'd said that had gotten her in the feels was Rose's name.
After the fall down those steps, Jazz had visited Dorothea at the hospital. In fact, he was the one who'd called 911. He'd chased after her, had seen her go down. As she was wheeled back for surgery, she told the doctors not to give updates to her soon-to-be ex-husband, and most definitely not to allow him inside her room. The only detail they'd shared with Jazz was Rose's death because, technically, her condition had nothing to do with Dorothea's, and he was the father.
She'd expected, maybe even hoped, he would fight his way in to see her, but he hadn't, and the knowledge had hurt.
Now he was back, claiming he was ready to fight for her.
Why now? What had changed?
"Learned anything incriminating yet?" she'd asked Daniel.
"Only that he cheats on his taxes."
Not exactly surprising.
In another not so surprising turn of events, Holly, who saw Jazz as a surrogate father or goofy uncle, had begun cornering Dorothea, too.
He loves you.
He realized he messed up, and he'll never do it again.
You have to give him another chance.
Dorothea was willing to do anything her sister asked--except that. A life with Jazz would never make her happy. But every time she tried to tell her sister the marriage was over for good, Holly had cursed Daniel, then cursed Dorothea herself.
Even Charity had cornered Dorothea. She required relationship help, she'd said, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. Her romance with Jazz had crumbled like a condemned house, and she had no idea what to do. She thought he might be seeing another woman.
Shocker! The man who'd cheated on his wife to be with another woman might be cheating on his girlfriend? What were the odds?
Charity had also asked for Dorothea's help with the town members. Apparently she and Jazz interviewed many of the residents, but no one had given air-able answers to any of their questions.
They support me, Dorothea had realized. Thanks to her mother, news of Jazz's infidelity had spread.
Dorothea understood her mother's reasoning--revenge--but come on! What happened to loyalty?
Lately Daniel was the only one who put her needs above all others.
Which was how he'd almost convinced her to shower with the lights on. In the end, she'd chickened out, using Jude as an excuse. Jude had created a website that would allow her to live stream news about the weather--if ever she decided to do so. Every morning he gave her a crash course in using and maintaining it, and she used the lessons as an excuse to avoid a sexy lights-on shower with Daniel. The refusal irritated him, and she had a sinking suspicion he was now avoiding her.
Despite his loyalty--or maybe because of it?--he never stayed overnight with her at the inn. He always returned to his dad's place. When he returned the next morning, he would be bleary-eyed and cranky.
Only once had she asked him to stay with her, but he'd refused.
"Better this way," he'd said.
"For who?"
"You."
Maybe he was right, but she'd begun to fret. Did he crave his next challenge? Did he regret being with her?
Twice he'd asked her about her scars and her inability to have a baby. She hadn't given him any answers. If he couldn't trust her enough to spend the night together, how could she trust him with her darkest secrets?
To her consternation, her silence only widened the gulf between them.
Dorothea finished cleaning Charity's room, a particularly humiliating task. Not that the news anchor had left any kind of mess. Charity had actually been quite...charitable. She'd picked up her own trash and made sure her dirty towels were piled in the tub rather than strewn across the floor. Jazz hadn't been so tidy, had left soda cans and candy bar wrappers everywhere.
Today, Dorothea decided not to clean up after him. She'd left clean towels on his bathroom sink and taken off. Considering she'd paid for his schooling, cooked his meals for years while working two jobs, she'd done enough for him.
Ready for lunch, she returned her cart to the storage closet. On her way to the kitchen, she stopped to check out the progress of the theme room.
The door was ajar. Odd. Daniel, Harlow and Jessie Kay wouldn't have forgotten to shut it; there was a sign taped to both the outside and inside, acting as a reminder. And the lock engaged automatically.
Frowning, Dorothea stepped inside--
And screamed. No. No, no, no. Someone had dumped buckets of paint over the beautiful
murals. Clumps of red, blue and orange had dripped onto the brand-new hardwood floor. The one of a kind curtains and comforter were shredded, the pieces scattered throughout the room like confetti. The headboard Daniel had exhausted himself carving was gouged from top to bottom and as splattered with paint as the floor.
Who would... Why would... How...
Her mind skipped from question to question without finishing a single one. The horror of the destruction was simply too much to process.
A sob welled in Dorothea's throat as she backed out of the room.
"Daniel," she screamed. One step, two, she began to run. "Daniel!" She didn't care that things were strained between them. She wanted him. She wanted him right now.
Jazz came barreling out of his room, his expression twisted with concern. "Dorothea? What's wrong?"
She bypassed him, shouting, "Daniel!"
"Dorothea," Jazz called. "Let me--"
Her pace increased. Tears burned her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. "Daniel!"
"Thea!" She heard Daniel's gruff, familiar voice a split second before he snaked around the corner and caught her. His strong arms enfolded her, holding her tight. "What's wrong, love? What happened?"
"The paint. The material." Her tears flowed faster as her chin trembled.
"I don't understand." He cupped her cheeks in a gentle grip. Gentle, but forceful enough to ensure she faced him. He'd never looked more tortured. "Help me understand what's going on, and I'll fix it. I swear to you, I'll fix everything."
Finally the sob she'd managed to stave off escaped.
"She was coming out of a room," Jazz said, coming up behind her. He must have followed her. "I--"
Daniel pointed an accusing finger at him. "What did you do?"
Jazz raised his hands, palms out. The color drained from his cheeks. "I did nothing. I only sought to help her."
"The room," she managed to squeeze past the lump growing in her throat. "Someone trashed the room."
"The theme room?" Daniel asked, his voice now deadly calm.
She nodded, and oh, the cruelty of the act. The absolute maliciousness. What had she ever done to deserve this? Who had she hurt so badly they decided to destroy her dream in retaliation?
Daniel picked her up, cradling her against his chest. He kissed her temple before carrying her up the steps without jarring her.
Inside her room, he eased her onto the bed. "I'll be right back," he said.