The Inn at Laurel Creek: Zoe & Daniel's Story Read online

  I laughed—a combination of nerves and humor. “How do you know this?”

  He leaned his cheek to the side of my head. “Astronomy is kind of a hobby of mine.”

  “All I know is the Big and Little Dipper, and I can’t even see those.”

  “Spring up, fall down.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He laughed. “It’s just a little trick to remember when you can see certain constellations. In the spring, the Dippers are easily visible in the south, but in the fall, they’re not. If you’d like to see the Big Dipper, we’ll have to get up just before dawn and check out the northeast part of the sky. It’ll be there, but you won’t see it in the evening.”

  “Thanks, but I think I can wait until the spring. I prefer sleeping before dawn.”

  “I get that.”

  He hadn’t let go of me, and I didn’t want him to, either.

  “Do you write about the constellations in your books?”

  He angled over to my right side, letting his left hand run across my lower back and left it there as we walked. I should have been uncomfortable. I barely knew Daniel. I’d just broken up, or more like been dumped by Chad, but uncomfortable never even crossed my mind. Everything about it felt natural, normal, as if we fit like a glove.

  Maybe there was something magical about The Inn after all?

  “No, like I said, they’re just a hobby of mine. I’d have to do research. My books are all about fantasy. I don’t want to spend time dealing with facts. You know how readers can be. If you misrepresent the truth, they take that personally, and I don’t want to upset them.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I’d completely forgotten what I’d asked him. “I…I was thinking about my book.”

  He drew me close. “The book can wait until tomorrow, can’t it?”

  Yes, yes, and yes. “I’m sorry. Deadlines, you know.” I lied. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d actually been thinking about how much I enjoyed being with him.

  “Let me ask you this. If we went back to The Inn right now and you wrote all night, would you finish the book?”

  “No.”

  “Then does that deadline matter?”

  I shook my head.

  “Okay then, instead of worrying about that, may I suggest you do what I’m doing?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what you’re doing, of course.”

  He faced me and leaned his head down, touching his forehead to mine. My heart raced, and those butterflies. Those darn butterflies took flight again, threatening to burst out of my stomach and fly away. I worried Daniel could hear them buzzing around inside me.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t say anything for seconds, maybe even minutes, just leaned his forehead onto mine. His breath, warm and chocolately, teased my lips, and I wanted him to bend down further, to touch his lips to mine, to taste the cocoa left over from his cup, to feel Daniel close to me.

  My lips parted, my body trembled, and I tried so, so hard to stop myself from going over the edge. I didn’t want a rebound relationship, or a one-night-stand. I didn’t want anything fake. I didn’t want anything, really. I wasn’t ready, or at least I thought I wasn’t ready, but Daniel elicited feelings from me I never knew existed, feelings I’d never even felt for Chad.

  He pushed back and glanced up at the stars. “Enjoying the fresh air, beautiful night sky and the company of a gorgeous, intelligent woman, of course.” He held my hands, but put inches of distance between us.

  I wanted to move close again, cut the distance and nuzzle my body into his. What in God’s name was wrong with me? I loved Chad. No, I hated Chad, but I wasn’t ready to want anyone else yet. My shoulders sank. I fought an internal war, and couldn’t decide which Zoe I wanted to win; the Zoe that wanted Daniel, or the Zoe that mourned for the loss of Chad and wasn’t quite ready to move on. Each one had a point. Ready Zoe knew moving on was smart, but mourning Zoe knew I needed time to process and heal.

  “I’m sorry, Daniel, I…I can’t do this.” I broke our physical connection and rushed away.

  “Zoe, wait.” He ran after me, grabbing my waist. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, don’t go.”

  “No, it’s not you. It’s me. I’m…”

  He laughed. “Oh, God. You just it’s not you lined me. I don’t think I’ve ever had that happen before.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Now I see why girls hate that so much.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, too. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I mean it, but not the way guys do. I mean it’s really me. I’m just not…I can’t do this. I…I have a book to write, and I…I just can’t now, Daniel. I’m sorry.”

  I left him standing there, his mouth hanging open, his arms hanging down at his sides, palms out, confused and concerned as I all but sprinted back to The Inn.

  “How was your walk?” Stan asked as I slammed into the front entrance.

  “Great. I’m going to bed. I’m not sure I’ll be down for breakfast. If I’m not, would you mind not disturbing me until I come down? I’m not feeling all that well.”

  “Anything we can do?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I think I’m just over tired.”

  “Well, you get some rest then, and let us know if you need anything. I’ll put a do not disturb sign on your door for ya, and we’ll see ya when we see ya.”

  “Thanks, Stan.”

  “Welcome.”

  I took the steps two at a time, and when I got to my suite, hid inside with my tail between my legs.

  Obviously mourning Zoe won the internal battle.

  * * *

  I stayed in my suite until after noon, tapping away on my novel, and while personally I barely functioned, professionally I hit my stride again, taking pieces from the night before, the feelings and butterflies revived from Daniel’s touch, and used them to rewrite the dead, emotionless parts of my novel.

  Charisma knew. The butterflies didn’t lie, couldn’t lie. They danced within the pit of her stomach, begging for release, their desire strong, her desire for Nate stronger. “It can’t be wrong, not when it feels so right.”

  “Did you just try to quote a Barbara Mandrell song?” Nate asked.

  “How would you even know a Barbara Mandrell song?”

  “I grew up in the country. How could I not know?”

  Funny, the two characters sounded an awful lot like Daniel and me. I deleted the conversation and started over, several times, actually, but the conversations were always similar; a bit snappy, with a hint of flirtatiousness to them. It worked, so instead of trying to write something that didn’t work, I did what every writer tries not to do, I scrapped most of the manuscript, keeping only the guts of the story and changing up the parts I thought didn’t work, which, truth be told, was most of it. My editor would kill me if she found out.

  I wrote like a mad woman. The theme and storyline remained the same, as did the characters, but the way they interacted changed. I’d adored Nate, and I admired his imperfections, and adding the quirky, sexy slant of Daniel’s smile, the soft, gentle caress of his hands and his lengthy legs just made him all the more appealing.

  I added spunk and strength to Charisma, and while she certainly had flaws, I allowed her some realistic reasons for change, not just the same old, sappy, same old stuff, because every rom-com protagonist needed a true cause to bring that change; it was the underlying basis of the story. I loved the new Charisma, and that’s when I realized I didn’t like the last one, not even a little. She reminded me too much of the weak, sad woman I’d become, and I didn’t much like myself.

  I didn’t need a smack over the head to see it. I’d become the pathetic, whiny protagonist in a badly written rom-com.

  I clicked save, closed my computer, fussed quickly with my appearance, and dragged myself out of the suite and into The Inn. I wouldn’t be that girl. I wouldn’t let Chad and Shannon’s actions define me, and I wouldn’t be weak, insecure, whiny, or the m
ain character no one liked. I’d read too many novels with too many of those characters, and I’d deleted them from my e-reader before finishing them. I refused to be deleted from my own life and end up a character from a bad rom-com book.

  By the time I’d made it to the dining room, I realized I’d slipped on two very different boots, and I wasn’t the only one to notice. Daniel noticed, too. Actually, he noticed first.

  “Love the look. Is that a new fashion trend, or should I give you the name of my ophthalmologist?” His eyes danced, and he smiled, and my bones melted into a gooey pile of mush.

  I eyed my boots, one an espresso brown leather style with the top folded over, and the other, a deep, black leather pick with no folded top. The defining idiot tell I should have felt the moment I walked in them, neither heel matched in size or shape. How I hadn’t noticed made no sense. I had to believe in my effort to not be Rachel rom-com curmudgeon, I’d neglected to pay attention to the details and raced out of my suite. “I’ll be right back.” I hobbled back to Serenity and swapped the black boot for the other espresso brown one.

  “All better?” Daniel asked.

  “All better.”

  Lou asked if I wanted any cookies and sweet tea.

  “Actually, I’d love some more of that hot cocoa to go if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I’ll go on and fetch it right quick.”

  I held my hand to my chest. “I’m sorry about last night.” I shook my head. “And…and for today. I shouldn’t have run away from you like that, and I shouldn’t have acted like a child. I’m so embarrassed. Will you forgive me?”

  He brushed a hair from my cheek. “For what, for being human? For being nervous when some stranger takes you practically into the middle of the woods and nearly accosts you? I’m the one that should be apologizing to you. Obviously I scared you, and I’m sorry for that. I wanted to talk to you this morning, but you had that do not disturb sign on your door, so I wanted to give you your space, but I—”

  Lou returned with my hot cocoa, and one for Daniel, too. “I thought you might could use a cup, too, just in case.” She turned toward me and winked.

  I returned the wink. “Thank you Lou, you’re a life saver.”

  I looped my arm through Daniel’s. “Would you like to finish that walk?”

  He flashed his perfect smile, and I prayed I wouldn’t melt into another pile of gooey mush from that, too. “I’d love to.”

  Atlanta rarely had two seasons, let alone three or four. Other than our infamous snowmageddon of 2014, our seasons consisted of hot, hotter, ridiculously hot and hotter than hell, hence the name Hotlanta. Stepping outside with a light knit sweater and realizing I needed something a touch warmer both shocked and excited me. I rubbed my arms. “Wow, I didn’t expect this.”

  “It’s always about ten to maybe twenty degrees cooler up here. Let’s go back inside. I’ve got a sweater you can wear.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got one in my suite.” I climbed the stairs to the porch. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Stan tipped his hat my direction. “Bit chilly today, Miss Zoe. Make sure you stay warm.”

  “Just running up to get another sweater now.” I closed the door behind me. I heard Stan and Daniel talking as I darted up the stairs, but couldn’t make out what they said. By the time I returned, they’d stopped.

  “Looks warm enough,” Stan said, eying my brown and cream, knee length, striped sweater.

  “It should be,” I said.

  “Thanks for the info Stan,” Daniel said.

  We headed on our walk.

  “What info?” I asked.

  Daniel pointed to the right. “About the path near the creek. Stan said it’s a great place to collect walnuts.” He retrieved a bag from his jean pocket. “And he gave us a bag to bring some back in so Lou can make a walnut pie.”

  “Oh how fun.”

  “Have you ever had walnut pie?”

  I shook my head. “Have you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s…it’s—I’m not sure I’d use good to describe it.”

  “What would you use?”

  He kicked a pinecone on the path. “Do you have any aunts?”

  “Strange question, but yes, I have two aunts. Why?”

  “I have two also. One of them is in her late fifties. Never married, she just wasn’t much into that traditional southern lady stuff, but she tried, at least in some aspects, like cooking. Growing up, I was her favorite nephew. I visited her often, and every time I did, she made these big meals with ham, mashed potatoes, turnip greens, all the typical southern treats, and always a walnut pie. I’d eat three pieces every single time I stayed with her.”

  “So you do like it?”

  “Everything my aunt cooked tasted like dirt.”

  I laughed. “Oh, yuck. You’re a sweet nephew.”

  “I’m an awesome nephew.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll be eating dirt for a late dessert tonight.”

  “Me, too.” He wrapped his fingers around mine and pulled my arm close to his. “But at least I’ll have you to share it with me.”

  “I’m allergic to nuts.”

  He stopped. “Seriously?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe I should be allergic to nuts then, too.”

  “You can’t suddenly be allergic to nuts. I had to make sure Lou knew it when I booked my stay and everything. It’s a big deal when cooking.”

  He dragged his hand down his unshaven face. “Well, that’s no good. Now I’m going to have to eat the bulk of that pie by myself.”

  I picked up a walnut and held it up to his face. “Yup, these nuts are all yours. I can’t even be near them. I get all red and blotchy, and my throat closes up.” I sniffed the round, green shell. “Just smelling them can send me to the ER.” The corners of my mouth curved upward.

  He grabbed the green shell and tossed it. “That’s just cruel, teasing me about an allergy.” He tightened his hands on each side of my waist and tugged me toward him. I dropped my head back as he leaned his forward. “Is this okay?” he asked.

  I reached up and brushed my fingers against his cheek. For a moment, our eyes locked, and time froze until I placed my palms on his chest and nudged him back. “Patience is a virtue.”

  He took three steps backwards and bowed. “Yes, it is, and not one I’m sure I have, but for you, I’ll try my best.”

  I curtsied. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” I held out my hand. “Shall we continue our quest for nuts?”

  “There’s a lot of ways one could take that question.”

  “Definitely, but you should take it literally.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  The corners of my mouth lifted. I bent down and picked a nut from the ground. “Look at this.” The green-coated skin deceived me. “I’d swear this was some not quite rip fruit if I didn’t know better.”

  He examined the walnut. “I can see how they’d trick the average eye,” he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “But, thankfully you’ve got a nice southern man like me that knows what he’s doing to help you out.”

  He twirled the walnut in his hand. “The most important thing to understand is this nut, and the rest of the green ones on the ground aren’t ripe yet so, any pie Lou is planning to make won’t be made with these walnuts.”

  “So why are we collecting them?”

  He reached down and gathered two more green balls in his hands. Tossing the nuts into the air, he juggled them all. “Because unlike most fruits, walnuts will still ripen once they’ve fallen from the tree. Lou’ll store them and once they’re ready, she’ll make that pie.”

  “So basically, what you’re telling me is we’re not going to have that walnut pie after all?”

  He shook his head and winked.

  I punched him in the shoulder, and the nuts all dropped to the ground. “Way to make me feel bad.”

  He backed away and r
ubbed his arm. “Wow, for a little person you’ve got some strength behind that punch.”

  “A little person? I’m five-six buddy.”

  His deep blue eyes sparkled like tiny oceans of crystal water, and my broken heart wanted to jump into those safe waters and swim away forever, leaving the hurt with Chad and Shannon a distant memory.

  “For someone who’s six-two, five-six is munchkin sized.”

  I drew a check mark in the air. “That’s one.”

  He snatched the imaginary check mark from the air and stuffed it in his pocket. “Look at that, it’s gone.”

  I drove my hand into his pocket. “Give me that back. It’s mine.”

  He whipped his body around and ran from me. “Oh, no you don’t. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right? It’s mine now.” Off he went, running through the woods, dodging rocks and broken branches lying on the ground with the grace of a gazelle.

  I however, lacked that kind of grace, and it showed. Instead of a balletic, willowy gait, I thumped and plodded through the woods, smashing the sticks, kicking at rocks and finally tripping over a rotting log that sent me sailing into a pile of deteriorating, unidentifiable nature, face first. I screamed as I landed.

  Daniel rushed over. “Zoe, are you okay?”

  I didn’t respond, choosing to stay face down in the pile of muck hoping I’d disappear in it instead.

  “Zoe?”

  I held up my hand. He pulled on it, and flipped me over.

  I spit out something wet and mushy. “I’m fine.” A slimy, goopy thing stuck to my left eyelid, and when I realized it could move, I screamed bloody murder. “Oh my God, something’s on my eye. Get it off. Get it off. Daniel. It’s moving. What is it? Get it.”

  The warmth of his fingers caressed my face, and the slimy, goopy thing disappeared. “It’s gone.”

  My eye peeked open to Daniel’s face inches from mine. “Hey there. It’s gone.” He picked something from my cheek. “I think you’ll make it.”

  I sat up. “I can’t believe you stole my check mark and made me fall in a pile of…of…” I held my hands up and glanced around. “Nature.”