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“Mornin’ kids,” I greeted as soon as I hit the landing.
“Uh, morning—good morning, sir. Mr. Gates, I mean,” Brett stuttered, his face growing even redder.
While Brett was nervous and sputtering, Claire was comfortable enough with me to be herself. “Hi, Mr. Gates,” she said with a cheeky smile.
The whole Roy Gates was a running joke now. Everyone at the inn knew who I was, but they still referred to me as Mr. Gates as a way to tease. Funnily enough, it made me feel more like I belonged.
“Hope you had a good night’s rest. You joining us for breakfast this morning?”
“Rested just fine, Claire, thank you. And breakfast depends. Did your mom make those banana pancakes again?”
Claire’s smile grew even wider, pride in her mom and her mother’s insane talent in the kitchen, shining bright in her eyes. “You know it. They’re a crowd favorite so they’re on the menu at least three mornings a week.”
I clapped my hands and rubbed them together. “Then I’m in. Hell, I may end up moving in indefinitely if you guys keep feeding me so damn well.”
I started toward the dining room when a thought occurred to me. I jerked to a stop and reversed back to Claire’s desk. “Is it possible for you to get me the number of a local florist?
“You want the number to onehere?” she asked. “Not back in Nashville?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Remember that woman I told you I was trying to win back? Well, I’d like to send her some flowers.” Another idea hit me just then, and I turned to look at Brett. “Women really do love getting flowers. Am I right, Claire?”
Her eyes widened a bit as she looked Brett’s way, a dreaminess taking over her blue eyes. “Oh, I know I do,” she said softly. “I love getting flowers. Let me get you that number. I believe I have a business card around here somewhere.”
I sure as hell hoped that little kernel I dropped sprouted into something for the two of them.
I scarfed down three of Diane’s pancakes before heading into the day. On my way to Muffin Top for my daily cup of coffee, I called the number Claire gave me and set up to have two bouquets of peonies and hydrangeas—her favorite flowers—delivered to Alma. One to her house and the other to the club to guarantee I didn’t miss her.
After that, I took some time to explore more of the town, every new discovery making me like the place even more. Linc had mentioned meeting up for lunch, so with nothing else on my schedule, I headed in the direction of his office.
The moment I pushed through the glass door and into the lobby, I hit Roxanne with a smile and laid on the charm. “Ah, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Blackwell. Have you come to your senses yet and decided to run away with me?
She laughed and shook her head. “Ooh, boy. You’re just lookin’ for trouble, aren’t you?” She pointed at my eyes. The bruises were fading, but they were still noticeable. “Word around town’s you already got yourself enough of it as it is.” I prodded at the skin around my nose. It was no longer tender to the touch, so I figured that was something.
“What can I say? I like them feisty.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. I know the one you’ve got your sights set on, and not real sure there’s a feistier one in the bunch. That girl’s got herself some claws, and if you don’t watch out, you’re gonna be shred to ribbons.”
That was a chance I was more than willing to take. Hell, I welcomed it.
The door to Lincoln’s office opened and he stepped out. “Perfect timing, man. You ready for lunch?”
“Whenever you are.”
“Hold my calls, would you, Rox?” he asked his receptionist. “Unless it’s important, then put it through to my cell.”
We headed out after that, walking in the direction of the diner where we planned to eat.
“So, how’s the plan going to win back your woman?” he asked conversationally.
I let out a sigh and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “It’s going, I guess. It’s not like I didn’t know this would be hard, but being this close to her and not having her is killing me.”
“I figured you might need a hand, so I did a little askin’ around and I might just know where she plans on bein’ tonight. That is, if you’re interested.”
My head whipped in his direction. “Fuck yes, I’m interested. Where will she be?”
“Well, bud, how do you feel about live music?”
18
