“That’s fine. I won’t bother anyone too much. I mostly want to be left alone.”
“No bother. If you get tired of the inn, check out the local haunts. Great food and friendly faces, even if they are curious,” he teased, then continued, “There’s a place on Main with the best burgers that will ever touch your taste buds. Or so Bailey claims, anyway.”
Despite the pit in his stomach, he smiled. “A burger sounds awesome. Who’s Bailey?”
“Oh, Bailey is the McAlister’s son. He’s the sweetest. You’ll love him.”
Travis groaned internally. Kids weren’t really his style.
“I take it you live in town?” he inquired instead, refusing to comment.
Despite the claim he’d made about not being one for small talk, Travis and Dean chatted the entire forty-five minute drive up to Holdengate. As soon as they passed the welcome sign, complete with a piece of wood tacked on and the numbers 831 branded into it, Travis understood what Dean had meant by curious glances.
It seemed Main Street was the only street in Holdengate, and even though it was cold as balls outside and flurries were beginning to fall, faces marred by curiosity peered out of store windows. A few even stepped right outside the door, kids playing came to a stop, and couples walking along the sidewalk paused to stare at the passing car.
Kinda creepy if you asked him. He felt like an intruder.
“Uhm… you guys aren’t by chance a secret cult, right?” Travis asked with only a hint of a teasing tone. Mostly it was worry.
“It seems that way, but that’s just a small town for ya. When we don’t get a lot of new faces, each one is like breaking news. It’s gonna spread like wildfire, but I’ll let everyone know not to overwhelm you.”
If Travis was standing, his kindness would have knocked him off his feet. “You’d do that?”
They took a right at the end of Main Street, then a left, and a short but winding driveway took them up to an old but beautiful Victorian.
“Sure would. Like I said, news travels fast, and so does gossip. No one’ll bother you.”
Chuckling, Travis asked, “What, is there like a big Facebook group you post announcements in?”
As they got out of the car and his question landed, Dean turned to him with a frown. “What’s Facebook?”
Unable to process the words, Travis floundered and stared, mouth gaping as he tried to come up with a way to politely ask him to return him to civilization.
Then he grinned and popped the trunk with a click. “I’m just kiddin’. We may be small, but we’re not backwards. Shoulda seen the look on your face.”
Huffing a laugh, Travis met him around the back and took his guitar case and bag. They exchanged a handshake, Travis expressed his thanks, and then he faced the inn that would be his home.
What a fucking postcard.
With flurries trickling down from the overcast sky, the white, well cared for Victorian towered over him, complete with a fine trellis and delicate arches and light gray shutters. The steps barely creaked as he took them up to the wraparound porch and a pair of French doors. Through the glass, he could see pristine floors and modern but tasteful furniture that somehow didn’t ruin the vibe of the old place.
It was more like arriving at someone else’s home rather than a place of business. And it was for that reason he sat his bag down and knocked instead of walking right in like he would at a hotel.
He jumped when a woman popped up on the other side of the glass. He’d been studying the decor so intently he hadn’t even noticed her approaching.
“What are you standing out there for?” she cried, and whipped the door open, almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm.
“It’s cold as all hell out there, get in here.” With a lot more strength than she looked like she possessed, she yanked him over the threshold and grabbed his bag off the porch, sat it down with a thunk, and held her hand out before he even caught his breath.
“I’m Dana McAlister. Welcome to the Holdengate Inn. How was your trip?”
Travis couldn’t help but beam at her. She was quite a vision, tiny, maybe reaching five foot to his six-two, wearing a flour spattered apron with pink frills, a grand smile, and enough energy to leave her practically vibrating where she stood.
“Hi, Mrs. McA—”
“No. I’m Dana. None of that missus stuff.”
Clearing his throat, he tried to tone down his instant adoration. She reminded him of his own mother. “Hi, Dana, I’m Travis. My trip was great and this inn is gorgeous.”
She beamed at that and grabbed his bag off the floor again, but he took it from her with a stern look. “Well, I’m making dinner now, but I’ll show you to your room. Come with me.”
Off she went, and Travis followed quickly, her little steps somehow difficult to keep up with, she moved so fast.
She chittered as she led him around, and Travis tried to study more of the home, but feared he’d lose her in the maze of hallways and rooms if he didn’t pay attention. The place was truly amazing.
“I already made you a list of all the restaurants, the best dishes, and the places to avoid to stay out of trouble.”
“Uhm, well, actually, I just planned to spend the majority of my time here,” he tried to explain. They came to a stop at the end of the hallway, right next to a door with a brass knob.
“Nonsense. Though I know the place is gorgeous, but so is the town and you don’t wanna miss a single thing!” she insisted, and then threw open the door. He gaped at the navy and light blue decor, the bedspread and matching accent chair, the mahogany headboard, dresser, and the huge double paned window that took up most of the wall directly across from them. The bed was pushed into the corner, the dresser to their left by the door, and another door to their right that probably led to the—
“Bathroom,” she explained, taking a few steps forward to push it open. “My room is on the floor above and on the opposite end of the house. Bailey’s is the first door on the left. Feel free to explore all the other rooms and if you’d like to switch, just let me know.”
“No. No, this is amazing,” he said, taking it all in. He hated to admit it, but he’d half expected pink frills and ancient floral furniture. Instead, everything looked updated and modernized while still holding the classiness of the Victorian style.
“Glad you like it, hon. Dinner is at six.”
He winced as she brushed past him. “Actually, Dean mentioned a really great burger place, and I was hoping to—”
She waved him off with a wink. “I’ll allow it this once. Even I know those burgers are to die for.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned to thank her, but she was already gone.
“Well, okay then,” he murmured, and walked farther into the room. He balanced his guitar case against the wall, tossed his bag on the floor next to the nightstand, and fell backwards on the bed.
Okay then.
The shower he took in the updated bathroom was wonderful, but the nap he took shortly after was magical. When he blinked his eyes open drowsily, the sun was setting and the flurries of snow had stopped just shy of coating the ground in white.
And he was starving.
His phone buzzed on the pillow beside him and he cursed when he saw all the notifications. They ranged from: