The jagged scrap of paper was stuck to the top of a box of Froot Loops. “Gone to town. Help yourself” was all it said. At least that’s what she thought it said. Could have just as easily read “Game tour. Hop Yahtzee.”
Paige picked up the cereal box and shook it. From the sounds of it, her generous host had left her a box of fruit-flavored dust. Just as well. She hadn’t had Froot Loops since she was a kid and really didn’t have a desire to revisit that culinary experience now. Still, nice of him to abandon her like that, all alone in a strange town with nothing but a raging storm to keep her company.
All alone.
The words practically lit up in her brain like a neon sign. She had no idea how long Lucas would be gone, but she was fairly certain she had enough time to check out the place.
If Sammy had been there, he would no doubt have chimed in with a snarky “Don’t you mean enough time to snoop around?” But he wasn’t there. No one was. Which meant Paige was free to take a self-guided tour of the place that brazenly referred to itself as “the hidden jewel of the Carolina coast.” Yeah, right. If the internet was a library, that website would undoubtedly have been filed under fiction. And not on the romance shelf either. She smiled at her own joke as she began exploring the first floor. She’d seen the kitchen and the living room the night before—and she’d definitely spent enough time lurking in the hallway—which left only the back of the house.
There was a small area off the kitchen that served as a pantry and laundry room, although it seemed to be failing on both fronts as the shelves were mostly bare and the laundry was piled nearly as high as the machine. What food was in stock looked like a cross between what you’d find in a dorm room and a day-care center: six bottles of Gatorade, two boxes of Scooby-Doo fruit snacks, a few bags of pretzels, a case of beer, a box of graham crackers, individual servings of applesauce, and a haphazard pile of ramen.
Without thinking, Paige lined the Gatorade up by color and arranged the dehydrated squares of noodles into an orderly stack. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. Her host’s mess wasn’t her problem, and if she didn’t get out of there soon, she’d end up sorting his laundry into darks and lights.
She turned to leave, but not before moving the Gatorade to the same shelf as the beer. Pigsty or not, it just made sense to keep the beverages together.
As sad as the pantry situation was, she could almost look past it once she saw the true gem of the house: the back porch. Spanning the entire rear of the building, the now-glass-enclosed three-season room was the one thing about the inn that was exactly as advertised: wooden rocking chairs stretched the length of the porch, each accented with a small pillow on the seat and a cozy throw draped over the back. Honestly, it was the only part of the house that looked as though a woman was in charge. She hated how sexist that sounded, but seeing as how her host himself was such a walking, talking stereotype, she felt her assessment of the room was more than a little justified.
Without the glass, Paige was sure the ocean breeze would only serve to make the setting all the more perfect. But since it was February and said ocean breeze carried more than a bit of a nip, not to mention monsoon-level rains, she was grateful that her host had replaced the screens with glass. At least he kept up with some household chores. Then again, for all she knew, the glass had been in place all summer too.
As welcoming as the porch itself was—right down to the potbelly stove in the far corner—it paled in comparison to the main attraction on display through the windows that accounted for three of the four walls. Paige stepped toward the glass for a better view of the Carolina coast that seemed to stretch indefinitely in both directions. Tall seagrass swayed and bowed to the raging storm, but she knew on a sunny day it would stand in welcome to the guests who ventured down the wooden planks that lead to the ocean. At the moment, the water looked gray and daunting, its white-capped waves more like the teeth of an angry growl than the foam of an enticing bath, but somehow it seemed to set just the right tone. All she needed was a hot drink and a good book.
Paige turned toward one of the chairs. When she did, she couldn’t help but smile at the pillow propped on the seat. It was the ideal shape for lumbar support, but its functionality wasn’t what made her smile, despite the gloom of the day. It was the very happy-looking sea turtle woven into the tapestry. Again, not at all what she was expecting. If it weren’t for the fact that she didn’t know how much time she had on her own, Paige would have curled up with the little turtle and enjoyed a much-needed cup of coffee under the cozy throw. But for now, a quick survey of the room would have to do. She still had the second floor to explore.
She took the stairs slowly and methodically, although she had no idea why. No one was going to hear the creak of the treads beneath her feet. No one was around to raise so much as an eyebrow at her blatant disregard for her host’s rules, although truth be told, her conscience wasn’t exactly keeping her mouth shut. Neither was her assistant. Even a thousand miles away, the sound of Sammy’s all-too-familiar tsking was impossible to miss. Not that it stopped her from opening the first closed door she came upon.
It was another guest room, or at least that’s what she assumed. Because unlike the one she was staying in, this one was more of a work in progress, and that was putting it nicely. The only furniture in the room was a mattress, and even that was on the floor. There was a stack of books beside it with a small lamp resting on top and a few piles of haphazardly folded clothing leaning against the far wall. For a moment, Paige wondered if someone else was staying in the house after all, but then she realized that the T-shirt at the bottom of the unmade bed was the one Lucas had been wearing the night before. He slept there? It seemed a bit odd to her that the owner of such a large inn would sleep in such a small room. It had to be less than half the size of the one Paige had rented. Then again, maybe he left the best accommodations for guests since those would fetch the highest rates.
She closed the door and turned to the one on the opposite side of the hall. As surprising as it was to discover that her host slept on the floor as though he lived in a hostel, that was nothing compared to what she saw behind door number two. It was a child’s room—a girl’s, if the pink gingham comforter was any indication—and while it wasn’t as bad as the rest of the house, this room could still have benefited from a few days of her company’s services. There were toys and dolls everywhere. So much so that you could barely see the pink-and-green tufted rug for all the Legos and Barbies. And books. Stacks and stacks of books. Paige followed the trail of picture books that stretched across the hardwood floor to a window seat flanked by bookcases. She remembered the charming nook room from one of the photos on the website, but while the bookcases and cushioned window seat looked the same, the rest of the room was much different and certainly not ready for guests.
For a moment, Paige wondered what would’ve happened had she selected that room for the week. Would the Barbies and Legos have remained? She nearly laughed out loud for even wondering if her host would’ve cleaned up before her arrival. But then a more sobering question popped into her head. Whose room was this?