Chapter 2
MONTY
Me: Laurel Riley will be staying at the B&B for a week.
Jordy: Why? He’s got a fucking castle up in the forest.
Me: He’s coming at four.
Jordy: Booked it in person? Prbly just his people.
I flipped my screen the bird. Jordy was such a killjoy. I was about to reply something spicy, but then I changed my mind. Rather than engage in a messaging match, I called him.
He picked up the phone with his typical, “What?”
“His assistant booked it. Why would he book anything himself? He’s Laurel Riley. He has staff dedicated to tying his shoelaces, for fuck’s sake.”
“How do you know it’s him who’s coming?”
“Because his assistant said, and I quote, ‘Mr. Riley will arrive after four p.m.’ Why would he say that if he booked it for his people only?”
Jordy grunted in response. The clanking of glass came through the phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Setting up. I need to open a pub. Since the boss’s not coming, I’ve got to haul ass and put shit in order on my own.”
I glanced around the breakfast room, noticing the crumbs on one of the tables and smudges on the bar counter. “I need to be here to welcome Laurel Riley into our fine establishment.”
“Sure. Him and the king of Spain. Bring them for dinner.”
“Fuck off.”
“Gladly. I’m busy.” A heavy door squeaked as Jordy must have gone to the pub’s storage.
“You’re rude to management, Orson Jordan. That’s going into your evaluation report.”
“Uh-huh. The management can suck my dick.”
I chuckled. “Later. I need to check on the suite.”
“Then leave me alone.”
“Hey, when are you coming home tonight?”
“It’s Saturday. I won’t close before one.”
“I might wait up,” I said.
“Might?”
I could just picture his sardonic smile.
“See you later, Orson.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket, grinning. Jordy had that effect on me, despite all his moroseness. I’d go to the pub to help him out later, but first things first.
Our special guest deserved special treatment.
I ran upstairs and prepared the top-floor room. I didn’t bother with the others—Sedric had been here and cleaned after the last party had left—but the suite needed to be perfect. I opened the window to air the space and fiddled with the towels.
The minibar needed restocking. I would have brought fresh flowers, but it was late October. There wasn’t much blooming outside. Besides, what if Mr. Riley was allergic to pollen? Or dust! Just the thought made me bring out the vacuum and redo the two-seater and the carpet.
At ten to four, I was downstairs, looking around the reception that doubled as a bar and breakfast room. It looked clean but a little empty.
I needed welcome drinks and a fire in the fireplace.
In the kitchen, I found a bucket and filled it with ice. The prosecco I’d had left from a wedding in August wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t too shabby either. Since I had no idea how many people would be coming, I prepared ten glasses. Last time, Mr. Riley stayed here with three bodyguards.
At a quarter past four, the fire was crackling happily. I wiped the breakfast tables and reorganized the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. They were a bit dusty, but I didn’t have time for a thorough cleanup. After washing the sink, I went to change my shirt.
At five, I opened the prosecco bottle and poured myself a glass.
I was just refilling it when the door opened.
Shit.
I quickly hid the open bottle and half-full glass behind the bar and hurried to the hallway.
It was him.
The Laurel Riley.
His ball cap and sunglasses hid half of his face, but I’d recognize him anywhere.
His catlike green eyes were imprinted on my memory, just like the sensual curve of his lips, now pinched tight.
His long, wavy hair brushed the shoulders of his black jacket.
He wore his signature skintight, dark jeans and chunky platform boots, which added at least two inches to his lanky height.
“Mr. Riley, welcome!”
I didn’t see anyone behind him, but he couldn’t have been alone. A crunching of tires came from outside, so maybe his people were just parking.
“Hi,” he muttered, and folded his sunglasses. He looked pale, with dark circles under his oh-so-beautiful eyes. It made me want to hug him, which was silly.
Instead, I backed out of his way. “Come on in. Is your staff parking the car? Let me help you with the suitcase.”
“It’s just me.”
I froze. Just him? “And your security?”
“Just me,” he repeated, sounding annoyed. “One person.”
Damn. He was alone. I was alone with Laurel Riley.
“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Riley? Prosecco?”
“Look, I’ve had a long day…”
“That’s why you need a drink.”
He frowned at me, then blew out a breath. “Whatever.”
I reached for his suitcase, and he jumped back as if I’d electrocuted him.
“My apologies. I’m just going to take this. Please, come in.”
He followed me to the bar. I wheeled his suitcase to the stairs and took another bottle of bubbly out, bypassing the one I’d drunk from. I couldn’t pour Laurel Riley a glass from an already open bottle, could I?
“Your people will be joining you later?” I asked as I popped the cork into my palm.
“For the last time, it’s only going to be me.” He lifted his slim, elegant hand, and I gazed at his incredibly capable fingers that I’d watched move over guitar strings… Laurel rubbed his forehead, looking exasperated.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Riley. You must be tired. Did you just arrive in the country? Your tour is done, right? How’s the construction on your property? It’s a great place you got up there.”
He stared at me for a few seconds.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Tour’s done. There’s been an…incident…with the chalet.” He waved in the direction of the window. “We don’t have a functioning bathroom at the moment.”
He grimaced, looking pained, so I handed him the glass, and he threw the contents back in one gulp.
“That’s what I get for listening to my pompous prick of an architect,” he said. “He hired a bunch of fancy-ass contractors from the city, and everything was late, and now the main bathroom looks like there’s been an earthquake. So. Yeah.”
As he spoke, his scent reached my nostrils, and I inhaled it greedily.
I hadn’t smelled him in months, not since he’d been in Beauville the last time, and even then, I’d only caught whiffs of him in the hallway upstairs.
Laurel always smelled of strawberries to me, and something creamy, maybe a hint of vanilla, white chocolate… Strawberries. I loved strawberries.
Except the beautiful, sweet-smelling omega of my dreams looked like he was planning a murder.
He must be steaming mad, coming to Beauville to relax after years on tour, only to find he had nowhere to stay. I pointed at his glass.
“A refill?”
He eyed the bar behind me. “Can you bring the bottle upstairs?”
“Sure.”
He walked toward the stairs with the empty glass in hand and reached for his suitcase.
“Let me take that for you, Mr. Riley.”
“Thanks.”
He went first, and I followed him, carrying his luggage in one hand and the prosecco bottle in the other.
As Laurel climbed the stairs, his ass cheeks bunched up and stretched in a mesmerizing way. Those dark jeans were sinfully tight. Such a gorgeous little butt…
“Stop staring at my ass, Montgomery,” he said.
He didn’t look back. He couldn’t know for sure I’d been looking. Could I pretend I didn’t hear his comment?
He paused on the landing on the second floor and gestured for me to go first.
I got a strong whiff of his strawberry scent and swallowed a groan.
Laurel Riley was the sexiest, most fascinating being I’d ever met. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that I had a chance to bed an international celeb. But a guy could hope, right?
“If you give me your car keys, I’ll bring the rest of your luggage.”
“My security dropped me off. I won’t be needing a car.”
Only one suitcase? No car? Didn’t people of his rank travel with a cargo container of shit? Huh.
I opened the suite and gestured for him to go first. Then I handed him the key.
“Okay. So the thermostat for the bedroom is here. There’s another one in the bathroom. I’ve turned up the floor heating in the bathroom, but it may take a few more hours to warm up properly. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the minibar. It’s included in the room charge.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “It is?”
“You’re paying for the entire B&B, Mr. Riley. Complimentary drinks are the least I can offer.”
He pointed a finger at me. “But you’re not letting anyone else in while I’m here.”
“Of course not. The season is pretty much over anyway. You’ll have the place to yourself. Just…I live downstairs, and Jordy, um, Orson Jordan, has an apartment on the ground floor.”
The look on his face was unreadable. “I remember Jordy.”
Did he? Of course he did. He’d even seen us shifted at Barclay’s that one time.
I moved his suitcase into the room and left it by the coatrack.
When I looked up, he was standing by the balcony door, gazing at the view.
The mountaintops were hidden in a layer of clouds, like a lid on top of our valley.
He looked a little forlorn, staring at the gray sky.
He must be disappointed by the weather. We had a brief glimpse of the sun today, but now it was overcast again.
Fall was like that here: heavy clouds, drizzle, fog, and creeping cold.
Which reminded me—my guest would need hot food.
“Can I book you a table at the pub for dinner tonight?”
He kept staring at the view with his back to me. “There are no deliveries in Beauville? Pizza? Thai?”
“We have a diner. I’m afraid they don’t do deliveries, though. But I can bring you dinner from the pub if you prefer to eat here tonight.”
With a sigh, he turned to face me. “Nah. I’ll come. Corner booth, like last time.”
“Absolutely. Jordy and I will make sure nobody bothers you. We’ll keep the table ready between seven and ten.”
“Appreciated.” He scanned the room, then dropped his bag onto the bed. He probably wanted me gone.
“Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Riley?”
“No. Thanks. I’m good.”
“Wonderful. If you need anything, call me. Day or night.”
He smirked. “Sure.”
“Breakfast between eight and ten? Is that okay for you? Just hit the bell on the bar counter downstairs, and I’ll make you anything you want.”
“Thanks.”
I backed out toward the open door. It seemed I couldn’t prolong it anymore.
“Do you want a ride to the pub later?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“You’re my only guest.” I spread my arms, smacking my hand on the door frame. Ouch. “All yours.”
He looked me up and down. “Erm, Montgomery?”
“Yes, Mr. Riley?”
“Look, I was kind of counting on an extended vacation up at the chalet, but now that’s gone to hell, and I’m jetlagged and annoyed.
Honestly, I’m pissed at everyone and everything.
I’d…appreciate it if I could get as much privacy as possible.
Don’t take it personally, but I really need a break, so… ”
“I’ll make sure nobody bothers you while you’re staying here. You’ll wish your security were as good as me. I’ll be like a wall around you. Your personal people repellent.”
He blinked and took a slow breath. “I’d prefer to walk to the pub. Alone.”
“Sure. Of course. Have a nice stay, Mr. Riley.”
I backed out of the room, bending my head so I wouldn’t bang it on the door frame, which happened more often than I cared to admit.
He closed the door in my face.
Me: It’s just him. No security, no staff. Just him.
Jordy: That’s weird.
I hovered with my fingers over the screen. “Fuck it.” I called Jordy instead.
“What?” he barked.
“He says he wants privacy and quiet. And the corner booth for dinner tonight.”
“I’ll reserve that for him.”
“I offered to drive him to the pub, but he declined, saying he wanted to walk alone.”
“Okay.” Jordy sounded absent-minded. I could hear the punk band he liked howling in the background. The pub must still be mostly empty, or he’d play something more crowd-pleasing.
“He must be exhausted,” I said. “He was what, two years on tour? Hopping from hotel to hotel, swarmed by fans and paparazzi all the fucking time. What does that do to a person? No wonder he wants to be left alone.”
The background music quieted, indicating Jordy had gone to the kitchen. “We’re going to do that.” His voice sounded further away from the phone. Was he even talking to me?
“What?”
“Leave Laurel alone.” That was loud and clear.
“I’ll do better,” I said. “I’ll make sure everybody else leaves him alone.”
Jordy blew out a breath, which crackled in the phone. “Monty, don’t.”
“You don’t get it. He’s got circles under his eyes, and I think he’s lost weight—”
“He hasn’t asked you to become his bodyguard. Or his nurse. Leave him alone.”
No, Jordy wouldn’t understand. He was a loner himself, thinking he had to deal with everything and everyone on his own. But not everyone was like that, and besides, Jordy himself had once accepted my help, and I had yet to hear him complain.
“I’m going to help him.”
Jordy groaned, and I could almost hear his eye roll, so I hung up on him.