The Eloise Inn had been in my family for generations. As a kid, I’d played in the lobby while Mom attended to the desk, greeting and helping guests. As a teen, I’d spent my summers here as a housekeeper, cleaning rooms for clothes and gas money.
But it hadn’t been until this past week that, for the first time, I truly understood the charm of this hotel. Because for the past week, I’d basically been a guest.
Each night after work, I’d slip up the stairwell to Vance’s room on the fourth floor. We’d spend hours in the plush bed, wearing each other to exhaustion. We’d take a hot shower together in the middle of the night, then dry off with soft towels that smelled like spring rain. Then I’d crash, sleeping like the dead until my alarm blared at four. I’d wake early to sneak out of the building and head to my coffee shop across the street.
This hotel had become a sanctuary. Or maybe that was just Vance.
“Are you going to work or home?” he asked.
Dressed only in his familiar gray sweatpants, his hair askew from my fingers, he opened the door, leaning out to check the hallway. When he confirmed it was empty, he stood against its face, propping it wide.
“Work.” I kept my voice low from my seat on the edge of the bed, bent to tie my tennis shoes.
The longest tendrils of my hair were still damp from last night’s shower, so I’d twisted it into a knot. My skin smelled like Vance, a heady mixture of soap and spice and earth. And, other than the clean panties I’d stashed in my purse, I was wearing yesterday’s clothes. A tee and a pair of jeans were waiting for me in my office.
I’d sneak to the shop and change, no one the wiser that I hadn’t slept in my own bed for a week.
The secrecy was a rush. So far, I’d managed to avoid my family by coming to The Eloise each night and leaving before dawn each morning. In a way, I felt like a teenager, infatuated with a boy for the first time in her life.
Not that Vance could ever be mistaken for a boy. Not with that six-foot-five frame.
His biceps flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing against that door. The dusting of hair over his pecs only made him seem broader. Stronger. Last night, I’d traced every inch of his washboard abs with my tongue.
“Are you going out today?” I glanced over my shoulder to the windows. We’d been so caught up in each other last night, from the moment he’d pulled me into the room, we’d barely broken apart. And when we’d finally crashed, neither of us had mustered the energy to close the curtains.
Beyond the glass, only the muted lights from Main illuminated the outline of roofs and buildings.
“Yeah,” Vance said. “I’ll head up before first light.”
“Watch out for grizzly bears.” I stood, crossing the space between us.
Vance framed my face in his hands, bending to brush a kiss to my lips. His tongue flicked out, licking my bottom lip.
A shiver raced down my spine, and as I shivered, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding inside and stroking mine with a lazy swirl. When I rose up on my toes, seeking more, he wrapped his arms around me, hauling me into the hard plane of his chest.
Then he kissed me. God, the way this man kissed me.
It was like I was his air. His reason for breathing. Silly, considering we were just fooling around while he was in town. Still, I sank into the kiss as a pulse bloomed in my center. Desire coiled in my lower belly.
But before I could shove those sweats off his narrow hips, he pulled away. “If we don’t stop now . . .”
We wouldn’t stop for hours. And while I hadn’t needed to mention to Vance that I was sneaking in and out, doing my very best to go unnoticed, he knew. If people saw us together, it would only lead to questions.
We weren’t answering questions, not even each other’s.
Vance hadn’t told me much about his life in Idaho. He hadn’t offered more details about Cormac. Pillow talk this past week had centered around a safe topic—me.
We’d talked about my family. About life growing up in Quincy. How my mom had taught me to cook and bake. Last night, he’d asked me question after question about the coffee shop, so I’d told him how I’d used my inheritance to start the business and some of the hurdles I’d jumped over along the way—employees and expenses.
He’d listened with rapt attention. Maybe I should have been flattered. No man before Vance had ever taken such an avid interest in my life. Most guys I’d dated had seen Eden Coffee as competition for attention.
Vance’s genuine curiosity was refreshing. Still, something about his interest bothered me. Maybe because it was too strong.
Because if we were talking about me, then we weren’t talking about him.
He hadn’t shared one tidbit of personal information. Not one scrap that I could cling to.
This was just sex. Incredible, mind-blowing, toe-curling sex. Before Vance, I hadn’t even known what an orgasm should feel like. My body came apart under his hands. I found myself becoming bolder, taking the pleasure I craved. And Vance delivered, time and time again.
Another woman might have been okay drawing that line. She’d simply be grateful that she was getting fucked by an Adonis every night.
Yet I yearned for more. Was that my problem? That I always wanted more?
I wanted what this man couldn’t give me.
Was I okay with that? Maybe. Maybe not.
“Did you decide how long you were staying?” I asked, grabbing my coat from where it had landed on the floor last night. “Do you need to get back to work?”
“Not sure yet,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”
Would he though? Or would I come to this room one night and find him gone?
That was a question I didn’t want answered, so I snagged my purse, looping it over a shoulder, then went to him for a chaste kiss. “See ya.”
“Bye, Blue.”
That nickname, like the coffee shop’s bell, always made me smile. My cheeks warmed as I stepped into the hallway, doing my own check to ensure I was alone. Then I hurried for the stairwell, looking back for a brief moment before ducking through the door.
Vance was gone.
I hurried downstairs, taking the exit that led to the alley and parking lot behind The Eloise. Then I zipped up my coat, tucking my hands into the pockets to keep them warm as I rounded the building and jogged across Main.
When I reached the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, I looked up to the hotel, searching for Vance in the window. His frame filled the glass.
I didn’t wave. Just in case someone saw me out on the street, I didn’t want to risk that exposure. I simply turned and walked to the coffee shop, digging my keys from my purse to unlock the front door.
The stillness in the shop settled my racing heart. Necessity was the reason I’d started coming to the shop at four o’clock in the morning. While the rest of Quincy was asleep, I could work in silence without distraction.
So after quickly changing my clothes, I busied myself in the kitchen. Today, I felt like a slice of homemade whole wheat toast with salted butter and apricot preserves for breakfast, so I got to work.
The scent of yeast and flour was normally as comforting as any hug, but as I left the dough to rise, I waited for the tension to slip from my shoulders. I waited for the peace I normally found in these quiet, early hours.
It never came. There’d been something off about my mornings for weeks. Ever since the river.
Instead of enjoying a latte before I flipped on the rest of the shop’s lights and opened for the public, I found myself sitting in Vance’s chair, staring out at the street.
His truck was still parked outside the hotel.
The light in his room was off.
My hand came to my throat, feeling my skin. I was tired of scarves, so I hadn’t brought one to wear today.
The bruises were fading, day by day, and besides, it wasn’t like everyone in town didn’t know what had happened by now. Gossip traveled faster than a bullet in Quincy, Montana.
Was that why I wanted to know all about Vance? Because I’d been trained by this small town to feed my curiosity? That secrets weren’t sacred, they were a challenge?
Or maybe I was just a woman who wanted to know about the man she’d let inside her body.
I shook off the thought. It was the first Monday in October. Mondays were usually slow, especially this time of year, when we had few tourists in town.
On a day like this, I’d usually let Crystal make coffee and serve customers while I spent hours decorating these windows, hand-painting white spiderwebs in the corners of the glass. I’d have spooky cookies in the oven and a jar of candy corn on the counter for decoration.
I looked forward to Halloween each and every year. But just the thought of finding my paintbrush and decorating the windows made my lip curl.
God, what was wrong with me? When was I going to start feeling like myself again? It had been weeks since the river. When would it stop weighing so heavily on my soul?
“Lyla.”
“Ah!” I jumped, practically leaping out of my chair as Crystal’s hand touched my shoulder. “Oh my God. You scared me.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought you heard me come in the back door.”
“It’s fine.” I waved it off, then took a breath, willing my heart to climb out of my throat.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Just sitting in the dark?”
“Oh, I was just, um . . . trying to figure out how I could paint spiderwebs and then turn them into snowflakes after Thanksgiving,” I lied.
“Good idea. I’d offer to help, but I’m hopeless with art projects.” She gave me an exaggerated frown.
Her lipstick was orange today, the color of carrots. Crystal had a different color lipstick for each day of the month, ranging from blue to red to green.
Her quirky nature was part of why I’d hired her. She didn’t care that some of the grumpy old men in town gave her strange looks when she wore purple lipstick. She was confident in her style and herself.
I usually felt the same. Just, not lately. Not since the river.
Was it the bruises? Would I feel like me again once they were completely gone?
My gaze shifted to the windows again. “What if there were no webs this year? What if we skipped the snowflakes?”
“What do you mean?” Crystal asked. “Like do something else? Spiders or whatever?”
Or whatever.
“I’ll come up with something,” I said, giving her a forced smile. Then I followed her to the counter and helped prep for the day.
I pretended that everything was normal. I smiled like I meant it.
Not ten minutes after Crystal had unlocked the front door at six, the bell jingled and I looked up from where I’d been making that latte for myself.
Vance crossed the shop, stopping at the counter. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” I’d assumed he’d be long gone for the mountains by now, but with Crystal here, I didn’t ask.
His beanie covered his unruly hair. His coat molded to those broad shoulders. Those bright, clear eyes raked over my body, head to toe. “Coffee.”
“They didn’t have any at the hotel?”
“Yours is better.”
Yes, it was. “To go?”
He nodded. “Please.”
Please. Last night, Vance had made me say please each time I’d wanted to come. He’d made me beg, and it had made the release so much sweeter. My cheeks flushed as I filled his paper cup.
The timer I’d brought out from the kitchen dinged, signaling the bread was done.
“I’ll get it,” Crystal said, leaving us alone.
“You like that, don’t you?” Vance’s voice was a deep murmur. “Me, saying please.”
“Yes. But I like to be the one to say please too,” I whispered.
“Noted.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ll make you say it later.”
“You’re on, Sutter.” I handed over his coffee, shaking my head when he tried to pay. “It’s on me.”
Vance reached for his wallet, taking out a five-dollar bill. He winked as he set it on the counter. “See ya, Blue.”
He walked away, coffee in hand. He was escaping to the mountains.
An odd feeling came over me as he headed for the door. It felt a lot like . . . envy.
For the first time in my life, the last place I wanted to be was within these walls. I didn’t want to bake and serve and smile.
“Vance?” I called, stopping him.
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“Can I go with you today?” What was I even asking? I needed to work. Didn’t I?
“Sure,” he agreed without hesitation.
My heart galloped. Spontaneity was not, well . . . me. But the idea of ditching work felt so right. “I need to take my car home. Meet me in the alley in five minutes?”
“’Kay.”
I rushed away from the counter so fast I nearly tripped on my own feet. Then I hustled to the kitchen, where Crystal was putting my bread loaves on cooling racks. “Hey, would you care if I took off for today?”
She blinked, like that question had shocked her into silence. “You’re not supposed to work Mondays.”
“Huh?”
“When you hired me, you said you were going to take Mondays off.”
“Oh.” Yet I never let her work alone.
It had nothing to do with her. And everything to do with me.
“Well, if you’re okay with it, I’ll take off today.”
“Of course.” She smiled, standing taller. Her brown eyes sparkled. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” I told her, then hurried to my office to collect my coat and yesterday’s clothes.
With them shoved into my purse so Crystal wouldn’t notice, I headed for my car. Like it had been every morning, the windows were coated in frost. I tossed my things inside and quickly scraped the glass, finishing just as Vance pulled his truck into the alley.
I climbed in the car and led the way to my house.
There weren’t a lot of brand-new homes in Quincy, but along with buying and renovating the building on Main for Eden Coffee, I’d used my inheritance to build my dream house about two miles from town.
It was farmhouse style, with pretty white siding and a quaint porch. The black shutters matched the shade of the tin roof. There were three bedrooms, a spacious kitchen and an office. The other houses in the neighborhood were home to growing families. That was what I’d envisioned for this house. A family.
As I eased into the driveway and parked in the garage, taking in my charming home, a heaviness settled in my chest.
What if there was no family? What if it was only me?
The slam of Vance’s truck door snapped me out of that thought, and I shut off my car and got out, joining him in the driveway so we could go in through the front door.
“Nice place.” He took it all in, top to bottom, just like he usually did with me.
That was his way, wasn’t it? He scanned. Assessed.
“I just want to change into something warmer,” I said.
“Take your time.” He followed me inside, closing the door behind us while I rushed down the hall for my bedroom.
It only took minutes to pull on a thick sweatshirt and hiking boots. Then I grabbed a coat, hat and gloves, carrying them out to the living room, where I found Vance leaning in to study a framed picture hanging on the wall.
“This is your family?” he asked, not tearing his eyes from the photo.
“It is. Those are my parents and my brothers and sisters.” I came to stand by his side, taking in the dated photo. Strange how I passed this picture every day but hadn’t really looked at it in a while.
“That was Knox’s senior year in high school,” I said. “Mom was saying the other day how we needed to get a new photo taken now that our family has grown so much.”
Husbands. Wives. Children.
Mateo and I would be paired together, no doubt, as the only two single people in our family.
“Do you have a big family?”
Vance straightened, turning from the picture. Not a word escaped his lips.
Apparently his family, along with every other personal topic, was off-limits.
“Right,” I muttered. “Too personal. You can fuck me senseless every night, but that’s where it ends.”
“Lyla—”
“It’s fine.” I flicked my wrist. It wasn’t fine. Nothing right now was fine. If I was being honest with myself, that outburst had more to do with me than it did Vance.
I pulled off the hat I’d just put on, feeling too hot. The sweatshirt was suddenly suffocating. “Actually, I think I’m going to just stay home today. You go without me.”
Vance’s face was unreadable. Maybe he was relieved. Maybe he was sorry. Maybe he was annoyed. Fuck if I knew.
“Rain check.” He gave me a single nod, then walked down the entryway and out the door.
I didn’t stop him. Instead I reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and ripped it from my torso, throwing it on the floor. “Gah!”
What was wrong with me? I didn’t want to be at work. I didn’t want to be at home—I didn’t want to be anywhere. I’d been sleeping with Vance and knew nothing about him.
Everything was wrong.
And I didn’t know how to make it right.
I unglued my feet, about to go to the kitchen. Maybe my favorite room in the house would make me feel more like myself. But then my own reflection caught my eye in the decorative mirror I’d hung on one of the living room walls.
It stopped me cold.
My throat was a wash of greenish yellow. But there were a few circles still black and blue. I stepped closer to the mirror, taking in those circles.
Fingertips. They were from Cormac’s fingertips.
The motherfucker.
“Cormac.”
It was the first time I’d said his name out loud.
“Cormac.” My voice was stronger. Firmer. Angrier.
I knew his name. I knew his crimes. I knew because of Vance. Because I’d believed every word he’d given me about my attacker.
Meanwhile, he didn’t speak of his family. His friends. His job. His life. All he’d ever really shared was about Cormac.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Who was Vance? What if I was wrong? He’d told me he was a cop, but he’d never shown me a badge. I’d never asked to see one.
Winn never went anywhere without hers. Even when she went to Mom and Dad’s house for a family dinner at the ranch, she brought along her badge.
I’d spent a week sleeping in Vance’s hotel room with no badge in sight.
“Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around my waist, my head spinning.
Everything he’d told me I’d kept from Winn. He’d asked me to keep it quiet and I’d agreed. What if I’d made a huge mistake?
The day I’d found Cormac on that river, I’d assumed he’d say hello. I’d assumed we’d talk about the weather before going our separate ways. I’d assumed he could be trusted.
And I’d trusted Vance.
I’d blindly believed Vance because he’d told me everything I’d wanted to hear. My stomach pitched.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” I snapped at my reflection, then I bolted, grabbing my keys before I sprinted for the garage.
And while I drove to the police station, I pretended that I wasn’t betraying Vance.
