LITMIR.BIZ

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shift to end. He’d met a few people, visited some of the shops and even caught himself smiling in a storefront window. Ramblewood reminded him of home...his real home. He could envision himself rebuilding his life here. Maybe he still had a chance of moving back to Texas.

      Adam made a habit of taking each once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came his way. Sometimes they panned out, but usually they had gotten him into a hell of a lot of trouble. This—Ramblewood—was different and real. For once, Adam vowed to follow his heart instead of doing whatever his people told him to do.

      “I’m sorry, you’ll have to head back to your truck.” Bridgett glanced down at her white Keds and sighed.

      Adam’s heart sank. The disappointment was more than he’d anticipated. “I appreciate you trying, though. I’ll check out one of the hotels off the interstate. I do hope to see you again.”

      “Oh, you’ll be seeing me.” Bridgett lifted her head and playfully wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “I’ll be the one sitting next to you at dinner tonight. Mazie has an incredible meal planned. One of the perks of staying at the Bed & Biscuit. She serves two meals a day.”

      “I don’t understand,” Adam said. Bridgett gracefully glided down the stairs. She was still in her waitress uniform but in his mind, she could have been a model on the runway in Milan. He had been invited to quite a few fashion weeks over the years and none of the women compared to Bridgett. Though she had a natural beauty and aura about her—if you plied her with makeup, hair spray and couture gowns, you’d suffocate her. “I can stay?”

      Bridgett nodded. “Grab your luggage, and we’ll check you in.”

      Crap. That was something Adam hadn’t thought of. Checking in meant showing ID and he no longer resembled his driver’s license photo. Plus if he was from Katy, Texas, how would he explain the California driver’s license?

      After grabbing a small duffel bag from the truck, he met Bridgett inside the inn’s foyer. The white-and-red Victorian wasn’t the type of place he was accustomed to, but it possessed an inviting charm. And although he’d never admit it to his friends in LA, he’d rather lodge in a quaint and cozy B and B than an obnoxiously garish and overpriced hotel.

      “Adam, this is Janie Anderson. She handles all guest relations.” Bridgett introduced him to a middle-aged woman coming down a dramatic, richly stained oak staircase ending at a large semi-circle landing that created the room’s focal point. “Janie, I would like to introduce you to Adam—I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”

      “Steele.” He hoped Bridgett hadn’t noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He turned to Janie, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

      “She’ll register you while I check on your room. Janie, Adam will be staying in the Balcony Room. I’ll be back down in a minute.”

      “Oh, you must be one of Mazie’s cousins.” Janie removed a leather-bound registry from the front desk drawer. From the landing, Bridgett shook her head when Adam almost corrected the woman. Janie ran her fingers across the top edge of the pages until she reached the ribbon marker, opened the book flat and turned it to face him. “If you’ll fill in your name, address and phone number—although with you being a relative I’m sure Mazie has it already—you’ll be good to go.”

      No identification, no license plate number, just a person’s word. How ironic that his own family wouldn’t take him at his word, but strangers would. When he finished filling out the registry, Bridgett was ready for him. He followed her to the second floor, enjoying the sight of her bare legs and pert backside while she led him to his room.

      “Here you are. Mazie keeps this room for out-of-town family, but she made an exception for you. And before you ask, it’s easier for Janie to think you’re a distant relative than endure her third degree.” Bridgett crossed to an elaborate glass-framed and oak-paneled door. “You have your own private balcony looking onto Ramblewood Park, a fireplace and a private bathroom. Mazie decorated this space with mid-1800s Victorian furnishings. Each room is different, but this is the nicest one. Of course, she designed it with pets in mind so there’s no frilly lace to snag tiny toenails. I don’t think you’ll find it too feminine.”

      And feminine it wasn’t. Warm, rich oak accents carried throughout the crimson-painted room, from the chair rail to the hand-carved fireplace, giving the space an air of male sophistication.

      “It’s perfect,” Adam said. “How can I repay Mazie for her generosity?”

      “Don’t break her heart, that’s how you can repay me.” Adam jumped. A woman in her late twenties stood in the doorway, rivaling Bridgett in height. “I’m Mazie Lawson and welcome to my Bed & Biscuit.”

      Bridgett gave Mazie a meaningful look. “I apologize for my overly cautious friend.”

      Adam extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for making room for me.” Adam wasn’t sure what he’d expected Mazie to look like, but he’d figured she would’ve been more than twenty or thirty years older.

      “Well, I need to finish preparing dinner. We’re eating at six-thirty. Bridgett, would you mind stopping by Bridle Dance to pick up a sack of pecans Kay has for me? You can take my car. I ran short and I’m determined to win the pie contest this weekend. I won’t allow Maggie Dalton to take the blue ribbon fifteen years in a row. And I do wish you’d reconsider not dropping out of the competition. You had your heart set on entering.”

      Bridgett shook her head. “I’d never beat you or Maggie, anyway,” Bridgett said, laughing. “Maggie and Mazie...the two pie queens of Ramblewood. Let me guess. You’re going to remain in this house, miss the majority of the festival and bake pies until the contest on Sunday afternoon.” Bridgett turned her attention to Adam. “The Magpie was a bakery before it became a luncheonette. Miss Parisian Le Cordon Bleu here is jealous that she hasn’t been able to beat a woman who made a career out of pies and cakes.”

      “The Le Cordon Bleu?” Adam asked. “I’m impressed.”

      “As you should be, mon cher,” Mazie said in a horribly Americanized French accent before turning to leave. “I must cook. Au revoir!”

      “I’ll head out to the ranch in a bit,” she called after Mazie. Bridgett faced Adam. She shifted from one foot to the other and then scanned the room. An awkward silence filled the air as she flicked her thumb under her index finger repeatedly. Adam wondered if she’d just realized they were alone together. “I need to shower away the luncheonette.” She inched back toward the hallway. “Would you care to join me—I mean drive out to the ranch with me?”

      “Sure, I’d love to see more of your town.” Adam’s mind veered off in a whole other direction as he envisioned her showering. “Do you live here, too?”

      “Temporarily,” Bridgett said. “It’s a long story. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty.”

      Adam waited until he heard Bridgett’s footsteps fade away before he stuck his head into the hallway. A door closed at the opposite end. Ducking back inside his room, he relaxed against the wall and closed his eyes, amazed how things could change overnight. He had decided to alter his life when he’d left his sister’s earlier. A few hours later, a fresh start had fallen into his lap.

      * * *

      BRIDGETT SWORE SHE’D never taken a faster shower. She attempted to blow her hair out, cursing its thickness. Getting it to a half-way decent point, she reached for her cosmetics bag. The no-makeup look took more of an effort than simply slapping on blush and lipstick.

      Almost mid-October and the weather was still on the warm side during the day. The nights brought about a welcoming chill after the scorching summer they’d had. Jeans, a form-fitting tank with a loose white sleeveless linen shirt over it and her favorite inlaid-heart cowboy boots comprised her first-date outfit.

      First date? What a delirious thought! A quick run to Bridle Dance for pecans did not constitute

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