Chapter 3
3
PIA
There was no help for it. I had to go to the inn and talk to the son. Showing up at a job I may or may not have any longer, less than a week after the guy’s dad died, wasn’t high on my to-do list, but what option did I have?
After Delaney told me that Mr. Bennett had a heart attack and died suddenly last week, I’d honestly had no idea what to do next. She said the entire community had come out for the funeral, that he had been both respected and well-liked, having lived in Cedar Falls his whole life. Delaney also said he’d run the inn himself, but that his son was in town and was probably the person I needed to talk to about next steps.
Had I packed up my life on the west coast and come here for nothing?
I felt like a selfish asshole worrying about it when the poor man was dead. He seemed like such a nice guy, genuinely concerned about the fate of Heritage Hill and wanting to turn it around. I’d worked for bad bosses before, and it sucked. One of them passed me over for a promotion that had gone to a man much less qualified, and it still burned my butt. That Mr. Bennett and I jived so well had been one of the deciding factors in taking this job. And now he was gone.
Life truly was unpredictable and cruel, sometimes.
Turning the corner, I followed my navigation and estimated it was not too far ahead on my left. Mr. Bennett had assured me I didn’t really need a car right off the bat since the apartment in town was a short walk to the inn. He’d even offered me a room so I didn’t need to leave the inn at all, but sometimes it was good to have a little separation from work.
Pictures didn’t do it justice.
Just ahead, right on the lake, was the old mansion that was Heritage Hill. I knew from my research that it had originally been built as a private residence in the late 1800s, and then added onto and restored nearly twenty years ago, expanding to the inn that loomed in front of me. With a large circular porch off to the right that looked almost like an attached gazebo, the massive structure framed with trees in every shade of now-fading autumn colors, Heritage Hill was everything I’d envisioned.
Though it was showing signs of aging, with some updates, a little focus and the right marketing, there was no reason it couldn’t be the crown jewel of Cedar Falls. With enough land to accommodate wedding parties—something Mr. Bennett said wasn’t currently on their list of services—the historic inn had every chance to turn around its finances and be as successful as Mr. Bennett said it had been when he’d inherited the property from his own father.
Heritage Hill just needed a little TLC.
Having talked myself into coming, now that I stood on the wraparound porch of the inn I was supposed to manage, I froze up. How could I possibly knock on the door and wait for the son to answer? What the hell would I say to him? Sorry about your dad, do I still have a job?
Maybe I’d come back tomorrow.
Good plan.
Turning around, I was two steps away when the door behind me opened.
Crap. I’d been totally snagged.
“Can I help you?”
I turned back. Standing in the doorway was a good-looking guy, probably my age-ish, around thirty, with short brown hair. He certainly didn’t look like his dad had just passed away. The guy was grinning at me in a way that made it impossible not to smile back.
“My name is Pia Russo. I’m so sorry about your father. I just?—”
“Not my dad,” he said. “But thanks.”
Not my dad? What did that mean?
“Excuse me?” I walked back toward the door. “He wasn’t your father?”
Delaney had said the son was in town and Heritage Hill had been closed for the week. He was the right age, so obviously this was the guy.
“Nope. My father is a complete asshole. Papa Bennett, the total opposite. Great guy.”
“I see.” Except I didn’t, at all. Was Mr. Bennett his stepfather?
“Parker,” a voice said from inside the house. “Who are you talking to?”
The door opened all the way. Another guy, about the same age, looked me up and down. Also good-looking, this one had dirty blond, almost surfer-looking hair. With scruff on his face and a smile that was only a breath away from leering, he positively screamed ladies’ man. I was pretty sure if I stood on the porch long enough, he’d be asking for me to come inside to use one of the bedrooms for a little fun. Though he was extremely attractive, I wouldn’t fall for a guy like that if someone paid me a million dollars. How many hearts had this guy broken? And why was he, too, smiling like he hadn’t just lost his father?
So this was Mason Bennett. Great.
“Hi, you must be Mason. I’m really sorry about your father.”
“Not Mason. But I can be, depending on what you want Mason for.”
Yep, I’d completely pegged him. No thank you.
“Are you Mason?” I asked the first guy, already suspecting the answer.
“I’m not,” he said, confirming my suspicions and explaining why he’d claimed Mr. Bennett was not his father. “You’re looking for Mason?”
“No, she’s here to see me, obviously,” surfer-dude said.
“Actually…” I didn’t want to insult him since these were most likely Mason’s friends. “I would like to speak with Mason, if that’s possible.”
“I’ll get him,” the first guy said. “Actually, I better not leave you alone with this one. Beck, go grab Mason.”
“Yeah, okay.” Beck didn’t move. Obviously these guys were good friends, or maybe even family members, though they didn’t look alike.
“Mason,” the first guy boomed into the house. “Someone here to see you.”
Beck backed away from the door but didn’t go far.
“Who is it?”
Finally, Mason.
He was exactly like what I might imagine Mr. Bennett’s son to look like. Also extremely handsome. Refined. Like he belonged on a Yale campus.
“Hi, I’m Pia Russo.” I stuck out my hand, more at ease. He took it, appearing confused. “I am so sorry about your father,” I began.
“She thinks you’re Mason,” Beck said.
I dropped his hand. “You’re not Mason either?”
“Nope. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Where’s Mason?” the first guy asked Yale.
“In the bathroom,” Yale answered. “Pia, would you like to come in? I apologize for my friends, who obviously have zero manners.”
“Sure,” I said. Yale wasn’t the only confused one. Was this an inn or a fraternity? And how was it possible Mason had this many hot friends, if they were indeed his friends?
I followed them through the entranceway, already familiar as I’d studied pictures of Heritage Hill for weeks, and we made our way to the kitchen. No sign of Mason.
“I’ll get him,” Yale said. “Can you guys behave yourselves in the meantime?”
“No promises,” Beck responded. That one was a firecracker.
“I’ll keep him on a leash,” my original Mason, the one who didn’t care much for his father, said, smiling at me. He was cute. Really cute, actually.
I smiled back.
“I’m Parker. This is Beck and the stiff is Cole.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, meaning it. I was about to ask him how they all knew Mason when a gravelly voice from the doorway asked, “Who are you?”
I looked up.
Jesus, sweet Mary and Joseph. He was like a cross between Henry Cavill and Ian Somerhalder. The cheekbones. Dark hair. Big, like Henry. Smolder-y like Ian, though less playful. And of course, when I said Ian, I meant Damon Salvatore. As if the two didn’t go hand in hand.
He watched me as if expecting me to say something.
Any one of his friends could stop a girl in her tracks. But there was something about him that was almost biblical. Suddenly Delaney’s small smile when she’d talked about Mason made sense. And here I thought the two of us would be friends. She was a devil to not have warned me about him first.
He waited. His friends waited. What was the question?
“Pia,” one of them said. I didn’t see which since my focus was 100 percent on the man filling the entire doorframe. “Pia Russo.”
He’d asked who I was. Shit. “Pia Russo,” I repeated, as if his friend hadn’t already said my name. Double shit. His dad. “I am very sorry about your father’s passing.”
“Thanks,” he said, frowning.
So he was a man of many words. I rushed to explain why I’d barged in here and tried to forget my audience of frat boys.
“Your father hired me a few weeks ago to manage Heritage Hill. I just got to town yesterday and learned of his passing.”
His eyes narrowed. One of the guys whistled, a kind of “oh boy” sound.
“My father would never hire an outsider to manage the inn.”
That took me aback, but I remembered the guy had just lost his father. Summoning more patience than was typical of me, I ignored the curt tone. “I can assure you, he did. I have the email chain to prove it. Restoring hotel properties is a specialty of mine.”
“Heritage Hill isn’t a hotel.”
He might be good-looking, but the guy was also kind of a dick. “Inns too.”
“Sorry you came all the way here, but no thanks.”
No thanks ? Was he serious?
I looked around at his friends. Clearly they didn’t want to get involved. A second ago, all three of them had stood in a semicircle around me, but now suddenly each of them had somewhere to be. Muttering everything from “Nice to meet you,” to “Have to move my stuff,” the three scattered. Even Beck.
What the hell was I supposed to do now? Clearly he didn’t want me here. And he’d just lost his father. But I’d quit my job and moved across the country to be here.
Deep breaths.
I’d start there.
“I quit my job to take this one. Gave up my apartment, sold my car and moved from Oregon to be here.”
He blinked but didn’t say anything. The guy was a freak of nature, he was so good-looking. Too bad the personality didn’t measure up. How could he be Mr. Bennett’s son? They were like night and day.
“That’s across the country,” I added.
His biceps were much bigger than the average man’s. And he had those bodybuilder veins on his forearms. I couldn’t look away.
“I’m aware,” he said dryly.
He just lost his father. He just lost his father. Patience, Pia.
“I am sorry about your dad,” I said again. “I only spoke to him twice on the phone after a string of emails, but he seemed like a really nice guy.”
“He was. But he also loved this place and ran it himself his entire life. I can’t imagine he would hire someone and, no offense, but he didn’t mention you at all.”
He didn’t mention you at all either .
“Maybe he wanted to surprise you?” I ventured sweetly.
“He hates surprises as much as I do.”
Charming.
“I can show you the emails, if you like?”
“No thanks. And I really am sympathetic to your predicament, but circumstances have changed.”
“Please—”
“I’m taking over for the time being, and Heritage Hill is bleeding money. It can’t afford someone like you.”
“As I told your father, with a few small tweaks I really think this place would be easy to turn around.”
“Thanks for coming.” He walked toward me, giving me no choice but to back up and walk with him. “But I’ve got a lot to take care of. Leave your card, and I’ll gladly compensate you for your traveling expenses. Are you renting in town?”
I nodded, mortified that he was actually going to send me packing. “Above the coffee shop.”
“I’ll take care of your deposit and talk to the landlord to get you out of the lease.”
I didn’t want to get out of the lease. I wanted this job. But Mason was walking me toward the door. I couldn’t very well refuse to leave.
“I…” What else was there to say? He didn’t care that his father hired me. Or that I’d quit my job and moved across the country to be here. Part of me wanted to curse him out, but I had to remind myself—again—the guy had just lost a parent.
“Thanks for coming by. I’ll be in touch.”
He looked right through me, as if not even noticing I stood in front of him. The guy would be impervious to arguments of any kind. I could see that clearly. He was almost militant.
“I guess… that’s it then?” It couldn’t be. Had I really moved to New York for absolutely no reason?
“Have a good day, Miss Russo.”
Yep. That was it. I wouldn’t grovel. “Same to you, Mr. Bennett.”
With that, I was hardly out of the door before he closed it. Not quite on my face, but close.
What. The hell. Had just happened?