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“Order up,” the server says, and places a plate of waffles in front of me. She produces two bottles of syrup: one blueberry, one maple. “Pick your pleasure,” she says with a smile.
“Thank you.” My stomach grumbles audibly and I blush, but she just laughs.
“What brings you to Honeypot?” She asks, leaning against the counter. I hesitate, wondering if I should say what’s really brought me to town. What do I have to lose, though? It’s not like everyone isn’t going to figure it out if I get the job. It’s just that when she asks me, I swear the volume of the restaurant has gone down, as if everyone is listening, even though they couldn’t be.
That would be crazy.
“I have a job interview,” I tell her. “Tomorrow, actually.” I choose the blueberry syrup and slather my waffles, then take a tentative bite. Immediately, I groan. “These are so good,” I murmur, and she just laughs.
“Secret recipe,” she says with a little wink. Then she leans forward on the counter, placing her elbow down and her chin in her hand. The gesture reminds
me of gossiping with my friends when I was in elementary school. “So what’s the job?” She asks. “You gonna work here with me?” She grins, and I feel immediately at ease.
“This would probably be more fun. Trust me. No, it’s a ranch job. I’ve applied to be an employee at the Blair Ranch. Do you know it?”
Her jaw drops open and for a moment, she’s silent. Then the girl bursts into wild laughter and she giggles.
“Won’t they be in for a treat,” she says. “Oh yes. A big treat indeed.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, not sure what she means.
“Um, they’re three super hot brothers, for one thing. And they’re all delightfully single, for another.”
“Is that so?” I ask. I shove more waffles in my mouth, then sip my water. “Good thing I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now.”
“You might not be looking, hon, but love’s gonna find you and catch you. If you get this job, I guarantee one of them will sweep you off your sweet little feet.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re exactly their type.”
Chapter 3
Hope
The waitress, whose name is Selena, gives me some advice on where to stay. When I mention that I’m planning on grabbing a room at the motel across the road, she gently suggests I try a nearby bed and breakfast run by one of her aunts. I’m tempted to ask how many relatives she has in town, but I don’t. She’s being gracious, and I don’t want to ruin it by acting nosy. There will be plenty of time for that later.
“It’s cozy,” she says. “I’ll call her right now and tell her to give you the friends-and-family discount.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’m genuinely grateful. I’m not used to people being kind to me, especially strangers. I pay my bill, leave a generous tip, and head back to my car. Selena’s directions are precise and soon I’ve turned off Main street onto a little side road.
Cute cottage-style houses line the road, interspersed with the occasional larger Victorian. Finally, I come across a large house that I would describe as a mansion, but that is really a multi-story Victorian house, complete with turrets.
A sign in the front yard reads The Bee’s Knees.
“Welcome to Honeypot,” I murmur, and grab my keys and wallet. I climb the steps to the front porch and lift my hand to knock, but before I can, the door flies open.
“You must be Hope!” A friendly older woman greets me. Her grey hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a button-down blouse with a comfortable-looking pair of jeans. The first thing that pops into my head is home. She reminds me of my mother. She reminds me of family, of my childhood, and I bite back the tears that threaten to spill over.
“The one and only,” I answer cheerfully, and the woman ushers me inside. We’re in a spacious foyer with a large staircase that takes up most of the area. To the right is a sitting room and to the left is the dining area.
“Come on in,” she points to the sitting room. “Let’s talk rooms.”
I take a seat on a comfortable blue sofa and lean back.
“Lovely place,” I comment. “I bet you have a lot of fun here.” One side of the room has a bunch of instruments, including a piano and a guitar.
“Oh, some of the guests like to get a bit noisy sometimes. Don’t worry, though. I only let them play on the weekends. Nothing you need to feel concerned about. I know my guests need their beauty sleep and that’s my first priority.”
