Page 4 of The Accidental Innkeeper

He looked over at me. “Your radiator’s done,” he said. “Probably the belt, too. You’re not going anywhere in this.”

“I gathered that,” I snapped. “You know, from the… smoke.”

Dust-guy nodded once, helpful and infuriatingly calm. “I can give you a ride into town.”

Oh good. A ride from the human version of a car commercial.

“Thanks, but I don’t get in vehicles with strangers,” I said. “That’s how you get chopped up, wrapped in plastic, dumped in the forest, and discovered by a jogger with a dog.”

Dust-guy leaned one hip against the car, because of course he had hips, the narrow pretty kind, and crossed his arms. “Where are you from?”

I cocked a brow. “A galaxy far, far away.”

Another smirk. “You’re in Maplewood Falls. The worst thing that happens here is Samantha from the bakery forgetting to label the gluten-free muffins again.”

I squinted. “You look like someone who would own a body freezer, so I’m still on the fence.”

His smirk widened by two millimeters, and I hated how the sun made his skin glow like a freaking male fairy. “Alex,” he said, holding out a hand, like that was supposed to solve anything. “See? Not a stranger.”

I stared at the hand he offered. Callused, nicked with a few scars. Definitely not model-smooth. “Sarah,” I said but didn’t take it.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” he said, and his voice had that annoying softness that made me feel like I should apologize for something even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong except exist and forget to put on deodorant.

He jerked his chin toward his Range Rover. “Come on. I’ll take you to town. Tow truck can pick this up.”

I hesitated. “I’m fine,” I said, already pulling out my phone. “I’ll call a tow.” I stared at the screen. Still nothing. I lifted it, tilted it, took three dramatic steps toward the ditch. Still nothing.

“There’s no reception out here,” he said, way too calm about it.

“I like to double-check,” I replied. “Sometimes phones lie.” I spun in a slow circle, my arm raised like I was summoning a satellite. One bar flashed and then died. “Oh good,” I muttered. “False hope. My favorite.”

“Town’s ten minutes that way,” he said. “Service starts near the gas station.”

I sighed. “Fine. But if I go missing, you’re my prime suspect.”

He smiled slowly. “Relax, New York.”

“Excuse me?”

He nodded back toward my car. “Plates.”

And then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward his Range Rover.

And just like that, despite my entire life being in flames, I realized something horrible.

Dust-guy was going to be a problem.

2

SARAH

It was the most uncomfortable car ride of my life.

Not only was Dust-guy, not talking, but I was filthy and drenched in sweat with my sweaty ass pressed into what I was ninety-five percent sure were very expensive leather seats. The kind you weren’t supposed to disrespect with your bodily fluids.

And it wasn’t just sweat. I stank. Oh yeah. If I could smell it, Dust-guy definitely could. There was no universe where this wasn’t happening.

So I did the only thing I could.