In any case, the cinnamon-and-man scent, combined with the quaint, cozy foyer of the bed and breakfast, the bright smile of the woman looking at her, and the solid, steady presence of the man next to her, made her nod. “Actually, I think I am. Or will be.”
“Are you a tea or coffee drinker?” Heather asked.
Oh, an easy question. “Tea.”
“I'll get some ready. There's an open room, third door on the right. En suite bathroom. Toiletries are in there. Linen closet is right across the hall. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“And if anyone”—Zander emphasized the word—“whether we know them or not, asks if you’ve seen her, you haven't.”
Heather lifted a brow, but nodded again. “And I'll call you right away.”
“Thanks. Is Beau around?”
“Down in his workshop. But he'll be here later, of course.” Heather looked at Caroline. “Beau’s my son. He owns his own woodworking business. He makes furniture. He’s built most of this furniture.” She gestured to indicate a gorgeous oak table that sat just inside the foyer under a large mirror, an ornately carved wooden bench, and Caroline assumed the table and chairs in the dining room just off to their right. “But he also does all the repairs around here.”
Caroline studied the furniture. She was impressed. It was bulkier than anything her mother would put in their house, but it was definitely as beautiful as anything her parents’ interior decorator ordered.
“He also lives out back in one of guest houses,” Zander added. “So it will be great having him around.”
“One of the guest houses?” Caroline asked.
“This place used to be a pecan plantation,” Heather said. “I own and run it with my sister, Hannah, and my best friend, Crystal. We’ve restored the main house and a couple of the other buildings, including the carriage house, where Beau lives, into additional quarters. And then we added a few cottages. We have ten rooms here in the main building in addition to my room and Crystal’s rooms—she’s our chef—here on the first floor, and six bungalows on the property with room to add more. We have a central flower garden with paths that connect them all with the main house where we serve the meals and a gorgeous walking trail that circles the entire property. We also have a stable with a few horses for trail rides, and a chicken coop where we collect fresh eggs, and a big vegetable garden that has a few fruit trees that we use.”
It was clear Heather was very proud of their…estate. Caroline honestly didn’t know a better word to describe a bed and breakfast that included a main house with so many additional buildings and grounds.
“Wow. I’d love a tour,” Caroline told her. The place sounded amazing.
“I’m happy to show you around.”
“You need to stay inside,” Zander said firmly.
Caroline looked up at him. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. The idea is to lay low so no one knows you’re here if they come back looking for you.”
“How would they even know I was here?” Caroline asked.
“They might have someone following you. And make a plan in case they do. Or in case they come back now that the first attempt at…persuading you…to go home didn’t work.” His jaw ticked at the memory of the limo rolling up and her brother grabbing her.
That was sweet. She’d like to think that the men in her life would care if she was actually being kidnapped, but obviously, no one would care if Chris came to grab her. She was sure his failed attempt to bring her home was earning him some pretty stern words.
But would they send someone to follow her?
It didn’t take her long to get to the “yep” on that one.
Oh…crap. Caroline gave a shiver at that. She was acting very out of character, which would make them suspicious. Running out of her wedding to one of her father’s best friend’s sons was not what anyone would have expected from her. What had she been thinking?
Oh, yeah, that she didn’t want to be married to Brantley Anderson. Though she could have had it annulled. Or divorced him after she sent him to prison, she supposed.
But she’d panicked.
Crap.
Still, Zander had a point. They would be very suspicious now. And would they send someone to follow her when Chris went back and reported that she’d refused to come home, fought him, and had a cop on her side now? Uh…yeah, maybe.
She usually appeared very…compliant. Submissive even. She inwardly winced at even using that word in her head. She rebelled against everything the people in her father’s inner circle did, stood for, and believed in, but she gave every indication to them that she went along with it all. Or, more accurately, that she just didn’t care about any of it.
She played the part of the ditzy, shallow socialite much more concerned with how her spray tan had turned out than any business talk or political gossip or deals being made over the hors d’oeuvres platters at the parties in her parents’ living room.
“Fine,” she finally said to Zander. Because what else was she going to say?
“Why don't you go upstairs and get into something more comfortable?” Heather suggested. She gave a soft laugh. “I imagine traipsing around in that thing hasn’t been easy.”
Someone who understood. Caroline smiled at her. “It weighs a ton.”
Heather looked at Zander. “You should help her get upstairs.”
Zander stiffened next to her and Caroline felt the tension emanating from him suddenly. She looked up at him and saw his jaw was tight again. But she didn’t think this was about her almost-kidnapping.
Oh, he didn’t want to go upstairs with her?
Well, too bad. There was no way she was getting up a staircase in this damned dress without tripped on it in her heels and possibly breaking her neck.
Plus, she kind of liked seeing the big, broody cop uncomfortable. That wasn’t very nice of her, probably, but she couldn’t help it.
She smiled up at him sweetly. “I'd really appreciate it.”
He looked down at her and she actually batted her eyelashes. He rolled his eyes.
She almost laughed. Zander Landry wasn't quite as easy to wrap around her finger as the other men she spent time with. She liked that about him.
Men were so simple. And exhaustingly shallow. Money and power and sex. That was what she could reduce the interests of ninety-percent of the men she knew down to. At one time, before her father had gotten rich and she’d met a whole new group of people, she’d assumed most men were like her dad.
She’d been wrong.
Men in general were kind of awful. Rich men were terrible. And there were a lot more of them than she’d ever realized.
“Fine,” Zander said. “But I’ve got work to do. So let’s go. I need to head out.”
He was just going to leave her here? She had things she needed to tell him about. Things she needed his help with.
“I was going to fill you in on—”
He reached to grab her suitcase and then grabbed a big handful of wedding dress train with his other.
“Let's go.”
Heather gestured at the jewelry laying on the floor. “Anything you'd like me to do with this?”