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"It's all part of the job, sir," he replied. "I've been driving these roads for years and have seen my fair share of winter storms. I gotta get home. Valentine’s Day is an entire week at my house, whether I like it or not. If they don’t put out a driving ban, I’ll be taking the wife to dinner and a movie.”
Alec grinned, so very glad he wasn’t a henpecked husband. “Good luck with that.”
Outside, his breath formed little clouds in front of his face, which were swiftly taken away by the wind. Mark retrieved his luggage and duffel bag from the trunk and Alec shook his hand and wished him another safe drive before he made his way toward the wraparound front porch, which might prove very inviting in the summer months but right now was only a repository for blowing and drifting snow. A quick glance around revealed a nearly picturesque scene, the grand Victorian nestled in the small town’s wintry embrace.
Alec climbed the few stairs to the porch, all swept clean of snow for now, and decided he much preferred Austin’s mild winters, where snow rarely fell.
Before he reached the brightly painted front door, it was pulled open from inside.
An older man exited, dressed from neck to toe in beige canvas, overalls and a heavy jacket. He was just applying his knit hat to his head, pulling it down over his ears.
He looked Alec up and down and turned to call over his shoulder, into the house, “Maren! First guest is here!”
A muffled reply sounded from further inside the house.
The man said, “How do you do?” to Alec and moved out of the way, adding, “I’ll get the door. Get in there.”
Alec stepped across the threshold, entering the warm foyer dimly lit by a small, vintage, and sparkling chandelier. The door closed behind him and within seconds the scrapings sounds of a shovel against the porch floor were heard.
He caught a whiff of something cooking but couldn’t place the aroma, the subtle scent mingling with burning wood crackling in a fireplace, viewed through the open door of the parlor to the right. Soft classical music filled the air, also coming from the front parlor.
Alec's eyes slowly adjusted to the interior, the brightness of the snow fading away. He surveyed the spacious entryway, large enough to fit a four-foot round table decorated with an impressive display of fresh flowers. Just inside the door to the left was a magnificent straight staircase made of cherry stained wood and railings painted white. The banister curved gracefully at the bottom, ending in a swirl. The walls there and going up the stairs were covered in a small floral patterned wallpaper and decorated with vintage paintings.
To the right, in front of a door that might be a closet stood a tall counter made of finely carved wood, which he assumed was the front desk or check-in area. He parked his luggage there just as he heard footsteps coming from the long corridor beyond the foyer's table.
A tall and willowy brunette appeared, smiling warmly, the effect of her really pretty smile not lost on Alec. Auburn hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, but a few long strands had escaped, framing the delicate features of her face.
“You must be Alec,” she said, extending her hand as she approached. “I’m Maren. I’m so glad you made it. This storm has me so worried that some of the guests won’t get in.”
Alec mechanically reached for and clasped her hand though he kept his gaze on hers. He knew who she was. Or rather he knew of her. Liam had told him that Jasmine’s friend owned the bed and breakfast where he’d be staying. He just hadn’t expected...Well, he hadn’t expected anything, hadn’t given a moment’s thought to Jasmine’s friend.
“Alec Sullivan,” he introduced, and then promptly and figuratively kicked himself. She’d just said his name. “Yeah, it was just beginning to get rough, the drive,” he said, frowning a bit at himself for being distracted, his mind paused and stammering while he was completely taken aback by the stunning beauty of Maren Scott.
Maren smiled a bit awkwardly now and was forced to tug at her hand, since he was still preoccupied and hadn’t let go. She slid behind the counter and faced him again, tapping away at a laptop connected back there. “I’ll just need to see your ID and the credit card you booked with.”
He pulled his wallet from his jeans’ pocket and fished out the requested items. Leaning his arm over the top of the front desk, which sat just about mid-torso on him, he offered the two cards to her and continued to stare at her.
“Are you excited about the wedding?” She asked. “Jasmine tells me you and Liam have been friends since college.”
He wasn’t one to have his head so easily turned by a pretty face, but Maren Scott was obviously more than that. She was dressed casually in jeans and a cozy sweater, and he didn’t knowif her eyes were really so remarkably green or if the flickering light overhead and her emerald sweater were playing tricks on him. She definitely had freckles, though. That was not any play of light, the charming freckles peppered across her nose and the tops of her cheeks.
Her question pierced his consciousness then. The wedding.
“Yeah, we met at college up in Buffalo. If Liam is happy, I’m happy,” he said cautiously.
Maren went still, except for her gaze darting on and off him from under a heavy fringe of lashes. Laying a receipt atop the counter and handing him a pen, she hesitantly asked, “You...have reservations then? About the shortness of their acquaintance? Or about the bride, whom you’ve yet to meet?”
He perceived some censure in her tone, in those words:the bride, whom you’ve yet to meet.
He had reservations about both, but asked of Maren Scott, friend of the bride in question, “Are you not alarmed by the speed of this...courtship?”
The smile she’d tried to maintain faltered slightly. “Alarm is a strong word. I’m surprised and I would have—and did—advise caution, but we’re not talking about a couple of twenty-year olds. They’re both intelligent adults with past relationships by which to judge love, and because I’m not in the thick of it with them, I guess I’m hoping that they know themselves and this relationship better than I do.” She shrugged indifferently, maybe a little coolly. “It’s not my decision or my business to tell them what’s best for them.”
Sensing her sudden coolness, he didn’t tell her that he planned to make it his business over the next few days.
When the check-in process was complete, Maren’s next smile was decidedly tighter as she stepped out from behind the desk. “I’ll show you to your room,” she said.
Alec followed her up the stairs, lifting his suitcase off the ground so that it didn’t bounce up every step.
