Forgetting wasn’t an option, not with what I’d come to Quincy to do. But that didn’t stop me from hitting the lights and climbing into bed.
Or from spending the rest of the night making sure we both forgot.
CHAPTER NINE
LYLA
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?