All You Need Is Macchiato (The Coffee Loft: Mountain Brew Collection)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Kathryn

T he scent of pine and wood smoke welcomes me as I pull into Mountain Laurel Lodge, my tires crunching on the gravel drive. After three hours of winding mountain roads, the sight of the rustic main building with its weathered timber and stone facade feels like stumbling into a postcard.

I ease my city-suited Prius into a spot between two mud-splattered pickup trucks and take a moment to breathe in the view. Dense forest stretches in every direction, and the late afternoon sun catches on the mountains beyond, painting them in shades of gold and purple. It's enough to make a girl forget she's here on business.

My phone buzzes. Speaking of business.

Status update needed on Elk Ridge location. Full report expected by end of week.

I stare at the email from corporate. Seriously? I just crossed the county line, and they're already demanding updates? I tap out a quick reply: Just arrived. Will assess situation tomorrow morning and report findings.

The response is immediate: Time is of the essence. Three months maximum to turn location around.

I slip the phone into my blazer pocket, refusing to let corporate's impatience ruin my first impression of the Elk Ridge location. For now, it was time to get settled in my temporary accommodations and take a long, hot shower.

The lodge rises before me, its wide wraparound porch dotted with rocking chairs that look perfect for morning coffee or evening wine. Mountain laurel bushes line the walkway, their pink blooms adding splashes of color to the rustic scene.

My heels—completely impractical for mountain life, I'm realizing—click against the wooden steps as I make my way to the entrance. The door swings open before I reach it.

"You must be Kathryn." A silver-haired woman with warm brown eyes greets me with a smile that makes me feel instantly at home. "I'm Evie Callahan. Welcome to Mountain Laurel Lodge."

"Thank you for having me." I resist the urge to smooth my travel-wrinkled blazer. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble booking at the last minute."

"Nonsense. We always have room for guests who need a place to land." There's something knowing in her eyes that makes me wonder just how much she's figured out about why I'm here. "Though I must say, we don't get many business travelers this time of year. Mostly hikers and nature enthusiasts."

"I can see why." I follow her into a great room that feels more like someone's cozy living room than a hotel lobby. A stone fireplace dominates one wall, and comfortable leather chairs are grouped around coffee tables that look like they were carved from local timber. "This place is gorgeous."

"Been in the family for generations." Evie's voice brims with pride as she leads me to the check-in desk, which is really more of an antique writing table. "My parents started with just the main house, but we've expanded over the years. Added the cabins, the activity center, the garden terrace."

My phone buzzes again. I ignore it.

"The gardens must be beautiful in spring," I say, spotting a photograph on the wall of the terrace absolutely dripping with flowers.

"Oh, you should see it when the mountain laurel is in full bloom. We host the most beautiful weddings." Evie pulls out a leather-bound guest book. "Though something tells me you're not here for the flowers."

Before I can respond, voices drift in from the porch. Through the window, I spot two men in hiking gear consulting what looks like a trail map. One of them waves at Evie.

"That's Connor, my second oldest," she says, returning the wave. "He runs our guided hikes and fishing tours. And that's Jameson, my nephew with him. He coordinates all our activities."

I watch them head off toward a building marked "Activity Center," their easy camaraderie obvious even from a distance. There's something appealing about a family business where everyone has their place.

"Speaking of family," Evie continues, "My oldest, Liam, handles most of the day-to-day operations. Declan runs our restaurant. You'll meet them all at dinner, I expect. We do a family-style meal in the dining room each evening." She hands me an old-fashioned key attached to a wooden tag. "Unless you'd prefer to dine in your room?"

"No, dinner sounds lovely." And it does. When was the last time I sat down to a real family meal?

"Seven o'clock sharp." Evie's eyes twinkle. "Declan takes his timing very seriously. Though if you're late, just blame it on Nolan. He's supposed to show you to your room, but that boy runs on mountain time."

As if summoned by his name, a deep voice calls from the doorway. "I heard that, Aunt Evie."

I turn and nearly stumble. The man approaching us is nothing like the flannel-clad mountain men I passed on my drive up. Sure, he's wearing jeans and boots, but he moves with an easy grace that suggests comfort in any setting. His dark hair is slightly tousled, like he's been running his hands through it, and his blue eyes catch mine with surprising intensity.

"Perfect timing," Evie says. "Nolan, meet Kathryn Taylor. She'll be staying with us for a while."

"Welcome to Elk Ridge." He extends a hand, and I notice the contrast of calluses against his otherwise well-kept appearance. His handshake is warm and firm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks." I'm usually better with words, but something about his direct gaze has scattered my thoughts.

"City girl?" His mouth quirks up at one corner.

"Is it that obvious?"

"The heels might have given you away." His eyes drop to my feet, then back to my face. "Though you wear them well."

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Before I can respond, Evie clears her throat.

"Nolan handles our marketing," she says, and I catch a hint of amusement in her tone. "Though right now he needs to handle showing you to the Laurel Suite." She hands him my key. "And I need to check on dinner. You'll join us?"

I nod, watching her disappear down a hallway. When I turn back, Nolan's already picked up my suitcase.

"I can get that," I protest.

"I'm sure you can." He starts toward the stairs, glancing back with that half-smile that I suspect gets him his way more often than not. "But my aunt raised me right."

Following him up the wooden staircase, I find myself wondering what else Evie Callahan taught her family about hospitality. Mountain Laurel Lodge already feels more welcoming than any place I've stayed in years.

"So," Nolan says as we reach the second floor, "what brings a city girl to our neck of the woods?"

"Would you believe I'm just here for the famous pot roast?"

He laughs, a rich sound that does interesting things to my insides. "Not a chance. But I'll let you keep your secrets for now."

My phone buzzes again. This time I pull it out, scanning another demanding email from my contact at corporate. Nolan catches my frown.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine." I tuck the phone away. "Just work."

"Must be important work to bring you all the way to Elk Ridge."

There's a question in his voice, but I'm not ready to explain my mission here. Not when I'm just starting to feel welcome.

Nolan stops at a door near the end of the hallway, fitting the key into an ancient-looking lock. "Here we are. The Laurel Suite."

He pushes open the door to reveal a room that takes my breath away. Windows on two walls frame the mountain view, and a stone fireplace mirrors the one downstairs. Everything from the handcrafted furniture to the locally woven throws speaks of care and attention to detail.

"This is beautiful," I breathe.

"Wait until you see it at sunrise." Nolan sets my suitcase by a massive four-poster bed. "The mountains catch the light just right."

"You sound like a marketing brochure."

"Occupational hazard." He hands me the key, his fingers brushing mine. "Dinner's at seven. Don't be late. Declan takes his pot roast very seriously."

"So I've heard."

"And Kathryn?" He pauses at the door. "Whatever brought you here, welcome to the lodge."

I watch him go, then sink onto the impossibly comfortable bed. My phone buzzes again and I power it off.