Page 9 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Hugh glanced between us and then smiled, missing teeth and all. “You okay, miss?”

“I am great,” I said. “Other than being sweaty and dusty, I’m super duper.” I gave him a thumbs up.

Hugh chuckled. “You’re an odd one.”

Dust-guy’s mouth twitched, like he was trying very hard not to smile again. “She’s on Maple Drive,” he added anyway.

I shot him a look.

“Maple Drive,” Hugh repeated. “I’ll send a truck. What’s your number. I’ll call ya when it’s ready.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving him my phone number. Hugh wrote it down on a notepad stained yellow and brown with oil, his blunt fingers leaving faint smears as he went. Black crud was wedged under his nails, the kind that came from years of engines and never quite came out.

Hugh nodded at me this time. “You got it.”

I glanced at Dust-guy, expecting him to add something. “Anything else?”

“All yours.” He stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Good,” I said. “Because if you keep taking over, I’m going to start narrating out loud.”

That did it. Hugh laughed. Dust-guy did too.

Great. Now I was the town entertainment.

As I stood there, feeling slightly uncomfortable in my dust-covered-sweaty-smell self, my eyes rolled over Dust-guy. At how his jeans fit him so perfectly, hugging his thighs and his hips.

And then, slowly, my eyes drifted to his crotch. Why am I staring at his man berries and stick?

When I looked up, Dust-guy was staring right back at me, a knowing smile on his face.

Shit!

I slapped a hand over my eyes.

Ah! Why did I do that?

Now it looked like I’d absolutely done it on purpose.

Too late. Damage done. I was officially the crazy woman who stares at man-junk.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said quickly, my face hot and definitely broadcasting my shame. “I think I’ll walk to the inn from here.”

Dust-guy looked like he might argue. But instead, he just nodded once, calmly and annoyingly respectful.

“All right, New York,” he said. “It’s not far.”

Which told me nothing, but fine.

I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder with more confidence than I felt. The strap dug into my collarbone, the weight of it pulling me slightly sideways, but I powered through because pride is a terrible motivator, and I have a lot of it.

“I’ll just ask for directions,” I added, waving vaguely. “I know where it is. Ish.”

That was a lie. I had no idea where the hell I was going. I just knew the inn existed somewhere in this aggressively charming town.

I turned and walked away before he could offer to help or say something charming or look at me like that again. I doubled back to his SUV, yanked open the rear hatch, grabbed the envelope, and stuffed it in my bag before hauling my suitcase out from the back.

I snapped the handle up until the little wheels dropped into place with a clack of finality, then rolled it after me, the suitcase rattling along.