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“With the largest gut,” she quipped. Laughing, she added, “But that’s my fault. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and that’s how I landed my dear, sweet William.”
“Oh good grief,” Reese said. “Another deliriously happy couple. Why don’t y’all just shoot me now? Put me out of my misery.”
“Now, Reese,” Nadine said. “Don’t you dare think twice about what Tommy did to you. Everybody knows you put your heart and soul into that marriage, and the only one to blame for the split is your no-count husband. Well, and that little tramp he ran off with.”
“Thanks, I so needed the reminder,” she deadpanned.
“Why don’t you wander on over to the B&B?” the older woman suggested. “Caleb’s signing papers at the title agency right now, then he’ll stop by.”
“Oh boy, do I like the sound of this.” Liza straightened and rubbed her hands together, as though anticipating a juicy story to unfold. Jess nodded in concurrence.
“Now don’t go getting excited over there,” Reese told them. “I am absolutely not looking for a new man. No matter how hot he is.”
Though she’d tried to make light of her failed marriage since the news of Tommy’s cheating broke nearly a year ago, with the divorce being finalized six months thereafter, she’d actually been cut to the quick. Betrayal had to be one of the most heart-wrenching feelings in the world. She didn’t need a repeat performance—or any sort of rejection while she was still in agony over the gaping wound Tommy left behind.
“Let’s just keep this conversation to ourselves, hmm?” She eyed each of her friends pointedly. Then added, “I have a room to book. I’ll see you all later.”
“Dinner tomorrow night at Pietro’s,” Jess reminded her. “It’s George’s birthday.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay home and give him his gift?” Reese wagged her brows.
In a mischievous tone, Jess said, “Sugar, I’ve been giving him that gift all damn week.”
Reese groaned. “Sorry I asked.”
Leaving the flower shop, she strolled down the sidewalk to her car. She’d parallel parked outside of Lydia Bain’s hair salon on Main Street. She considered stepping in to make an appointment for early next week, but decided a cut and color could wait a while longer. Wouldn’t hurt to have Caleb Bennett’s check in hand before she doled out a hefty sum to sit in Lydia’s chair.
She climbed into her car and drove to the B&B, praying the whole way there Nadine was right about Wilder’s newcomer—that he’d hang his hat for a month in the largest room she rented. She did some mental calculations and determined her savings account would get a sufficient boost from this unexpected turn of events, even though she’d offer him a discount for the long-term booking.
Inside the B&B, she hummed softly to herself as she started on an apple-and-cinnamon pie in the kitchen. Her guest might find the aroma inviting, solidifying his decision to stay. The suite was already made up. For a couple, she would have added a fresh bouquet of wildflowers to the desk that sat in the corner, but decided it’d be too frou-frou for a single man. Particularly one of his age.
Just as she was pulling the pastry from the oven, the doorbell chimed. She was used to visitors sticking to formality, despite the fact her welcome sign encouraged them to come in during business hours. Once they’d completed the room registration, they were more inclined to enter as though they weren’t intruding on her private space.
She whisked off her apron and used it to wipe the flour from her hands, since she’d decided to whip up dough for a batch of pumpkin scones with spiced icing too. Something about the crisp winter air and the holiday season always put her in the mood to bake.
She rounded the corner of the wide, framed entryway of the kitchen. The foyer was decent sized and opened to the living room, with numerous sofas and chairs scattered about and a tall fireplace trimmed with river rock. A round dining table sat in a nook off the foyer, separated by a half-wall. In the back of the house, across from the kitchen, was a formal dining room with several tables for multiple guests staying at the B&B. When she had them. An extremely rare occasion these days.
Not allowing her optimism to wane, she pulled open the front door with a gracious smile on her face. One that quickly faltered.
“Oh,” she said on a sharp breath as she eyed the man on her porch. Her heart leaped into her throat and her stomach flipped. Those were the most minor of sensations to grip her. Every erogenous zone she possessed seemed to spring to life, taking immediate notice of the tall, dark and strapping man standing before her.
Good Lord, he had to be at least six-three, with wide shoulders, tapered hips and powerful-looking thighs.
“Howdy,” he said in a casual tone as he tipped the front of his hat. Stetson, no doubt.
Her nipples tightened and her clit tingled. She’d always been a sucker for hunky cowboys in hats. This one wore jeans and a black T-shirt that pulled tight against his defined chest and showcased his bulging biceps.
Eventually finding her voice, she said, “You must be Mr. Bennett.” Her tone was a breathy, sultry one. Virtually unrecognizable to her own ears.
“Caleb,” he told her as he extended a hand. A very large, tanned one with long fingers she couldn’t help but think would feel heavenly trailing over her inner thigh or across her stomach. Perhaps along the swells of her breasts, now heavy from the desire suddenly coursing through her.
Slipping her hand in his, she managed to say, “Reese Middleton. Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” His voice was low and deep. Intimate. As erotically stimulating as his warm touch.
Her hand lingered in his. “Welcome to Wilder.”
“Thank you. I hear you have a room for rent.”
