Chapter 4
TRISH
D awn Lincoln leads us into the Nighty Night Bed and Breakfast with a warmth that immediately melts away the tension of our long drive.Her natural curls bounce around her face as she moves through the foyer, her dark eyes bright with genuine welcome.
"So, you two are traveling all the way to Nevada?" she asks, turning to face us."What a romantic road trip!"
"Oh, we're not--" I start.
"It's not--" Jake says simultaneously.
Dawn's smile widens. "Of course not.Just two strangers sharing a cross-country journey.I hear that story at least once a month." She winks at me."Honey, the way that man watches you when you're not looking?That's not 'just a ride share' territory."
Heat floods my cheeks as I avoid looking at Jake.We've barely known each other twenty-four hours, but something about the knowing gleam in Dawn's eye makes me wonder just how transparent our growing tension is to outsiders.
"Two rooms, please," Jake says firmly, seemingly unruffled by her assumption.
"Of course," Dawn agrees, but her smile remains skeptical."Though I should mention we only have one room with a private bath available.The other has a shared bathroom down the hall."
Jake's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly."I'll take the shared."
"Such a gentleman," Dawn murmurs, pulling out an old-fashioned guest book."Sign here, please. Jeremy will show you to your rooms once you're registered."
As if summoned, a man appears from what must be a back office.He's tall with reddish-brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.His eyes are a startling cobalt blue, but it's the quiet confidence in his demeanor that reminds me immediately of Jake.
"I'm Jeremy," he says, his voice softer than I expected from someone his size."Welcome to Heartstone."
Jake extends his hand. "Jake Winters.This is Trish Walker."
They shake hands, and I don't miss the way Jeremy's eyes flick between us, assessing.Another former military man, if I had to guess.
"I'll take your bags up," Jeremy offers, reaching for my suitcase.
"I've got it," Jake says, already lifting both our bags with ease.
Jeremy nods, not offended. "Follow me, then."
The B&B is everything a Victorian country home should be, polished wood floors, tall windows that let in streams of golden afternoon light,and antique furniture that somehow manages to look both elegant and comfortable.
As we climb the wooden staircase, I notice framed photographs lining the wall, Dawn and Jeremy throughout the years, the B&B in different seasons, and what looks like local Heartstone events.
"Your room is here," Jeremy says to me, stopping at a door with "Sweet Dreams" painted in elegant script on a small wooden plaque.He unlocks it and steps aside.
The room is charming. It has a queen bed with a handmade quilt, a small writing desk by the window overlooking the lake, fresh flowers in a simple vase.It's cozy without being cluttered, perfectly capturing the essence of small-town hospitality.
"And you're just down the hall," Jeremy tells Jake, leading him further along the corridor.
Once they're gone, I sink onto the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am from our journey.
The mattress is perfect, not too soft, not too firm, and the sheets smell faintly of lavender.
I could easily curl up right now and sleep until morning, but we've been on the road for so long that I desperately need to shower and change into clean clothes.
The private bathroom is a blessing.I stand under the hot spray longer than necessary, washing away the road dust and the lingering stiffness from sitting for so many hours.By the time I emerge, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I feel human again.
I check my phone and find a text from Jake.
Jake: Meet me downstairs in 30 min if you want dinner.Locals recommend Kathy's Diner.
I reply with a simple thumbs-up emoji and set about getting ready.I choose a pair of jeans that hug my curves in all the right places and a deep burgundy sweater that drapes nicely over my full bust.After taming my curls and applying just enough makeup to look refreshed, I head downstairs.
Jake is waiting in the small sitting room, scrolling through his phone.He's changed too, still in jeans and a black t-shirt, but freshly showered, his jaw smooth from a recent shave.He looks up when I enter, and something flashes in his eyes that makes my pulse quicken.
"Feel better?" he asks, pocketing his phone.
"Worlds better," I confirm. "I didn't realize how much I needed a shower and actual walls around me."
"My truck has walls," he says with mock offense.
"Your truck is lovely, but it's no Victorian B&B." I glance around the charming sitting room."This place is incredible."
"Dawn and Jeremy have owned it for twelve years," he says."Converted it from a private residence."
"You researched the owners too?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Force of habit," he replies with that now-familiar response.
Outside, the streets of Heartstone are bathed in the golden light of early evening.We walk side by side toward Main Street, where Kathy's Diner sits on the corner, its neon sign glowing cheerfully against the darkening sky.
"Dawn mentioned there's an actual diner counter where we can sit, or booths if you prefer more privacy," Jake says as we approach.
"Counter sounds fun," I reply."More authentic small-town experience."
The interior of Kathy's Diner is pure 1950s Americana with red vinyl booths, black and white checkered floor, and chrome fixtures gleaming under warm lighting.
A cherry-red accent wall runs along the back, covered with high school and college pennants.
An actual jukebox sits in the corner, and I'm delighted to see it's not just decorative but playing actual music.
A woman in her fifties with bottle-blonde hair swept into soft waves greets us with a wide smile."Welcome to Kathy's! Just the two of you tonight?"
"Yes," Jake confirms. "Counter seats available?"
"Always room at my counter for handsome travelers," she says with a wink."Follow me."
As we take our seats at the gleaming counter, she slides menus in front of us."I'm Kathy, by the way. This is my place."
"I'm Trish, this is Jake," I introduce us."Your diner is amazing. It's like stepping back in time."
"That's the idea," she says proudly."Been keeping it exactly the same since my family opened it in the forties.What brings you two to Heartstone?"
"Just passing through," Jake says before I can answer."On our way to Nevada."
"Ah, Route 14 travelers," Kathy nods knowingly."Well, you picked a good stop.What can I get you to drink? Milkshakes are our specialty."
I can't resist. "Chocolate for me, please."
"Water," Jake says predictably.
Kathy puts a hand on her hip, eyeing him."Really, sugar? Life's too short to skip the good stuff."
The corner of Jake's mouth twitches."Fine. Vanilla."
"That's more like it," she says with satisfaction, moving away to prepare our drinks.
"Vanilla?" I tease once she's out of earshot."Living dangerously, Captain Control."
"I'm full of surprises," he deadpans, but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there earlier.
Our milkshakes arrive, mine topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, his classic and unadorned.I take my first sip and can't help the small moan of pleasure that escapes me.
"God, that's good," I sigh, closing my eyes briefly.
When I open them, Jake is watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.His eyes have darkened, his focus entirely on my mouth.
"Sorry," I say, suddenly self-conscious."I get enthusiastic about desserts."
"No need to apologize," he says, his voice rougher than before."It's... refreshing to see someone enjoy things so openly."
There's a weight to his words that suggests he's not just talking about milkshakes.I hold his gaze, the air between us charging with that now-familiar tension.
"You should try it sometime," I challenge softly."Letting yourself enjoy things openly."
His expression shifts, something darker and more primal flickering behind the careful control."Maybe I will," he says, his voice dropping to a register that sends heat spiraling through me.
We're interrupted by Kathy returning for our orders.I choose the famous Hearty Breakfast platter, while Jake opts for the Club Special, both recommended as house specialties.
As we wait for our food, conversation flows more easily than it has since we began our journey.
Jake tells me more about his time in the Marines, carefully edited stories that still reveal his natural leadership and strategic mind.
I share anecdotes from my marketing career, the challenging clients and surprising successes.
"So, wait," I say, pausing with a fry halfway to my mouth."You actually designed a security system for a Saudi prince?"
"Among others," he confirms. "High-net-worth individuals have unique security concerns."
"I can imagine." I study him over my plate."Is that the kind of work you still do?For celebrities and royalty?"
He hesitates, choosing his words carefully."Sometimes. These days I'm more selective about my clients.I prefer projects with actual security needs rather than just paranoid wealth."
"And yet you still drive ride share on the side," I point out."Which doesn't add up, by the way.A high-end security consultant moonlighting as a driver?There's more to that story."
Jake takes a sip of water, his expression unreadable."Maybe there is."
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.Another piece of the puzzle that is Jake Winters, offering tantalizing glimpses of disclosure that never quite reveal the full picture.
After dinner, we step back onto the street, now fully dark except for the warm glow of streetlights.The night air carries a hint of coolness, despite the summer season.
"Want to walk a bit before heading back?" Jake asks."Dawn mentioned something called Lover's Stroll Park nearby."
I laugh at the name. "Sounds dangerous.Like it was designed specifically for couples to make out."
"I think that's exactly what it's for," he says with a rare smile."But the walking path is supposed to be nice, and I could use the movement after sitting all day."
We make our way to the park, which lives up to its romantic name.Tree-lined paths wind through carefully maintained gardens, with wrought-iron benches positioned at scenic intervals.A narrow wooden bridge crosses a small stream, looking charmingly rustic in the moonlight.
As we walk side by side, close but not touching, I'm acutely aware of the rhythm of his breathing, the subtle scent of his soap,and the way he positions himself slightly ahead of me when we pass other people.
"You weren't kidding about always being on alert, were you?" I observe as he subtly scans the area for what must be the twentieth time.
"No," he admits. "It's ingrained at this point."
"Even here? In possibly the safest-looking small town in America?"
He glances down at me. "Especially in places that look safe.That's when people let their guard down."
"That's an exhausting way to live," I say quietly.
"It's kept me alive," he counters, but there's no defensive edge to his tone.Just simple truth.
We reach the narrow bridge, and I pause in the middle, leaning against the railing to look at the moonlight reflecting on the water below.Jake stands beside me, closer than before, his arm almost brushing mine.
"Can I ask you something personal?" I venture, still gazing at the water.
"You can ask," he says, which isn't quite permission.
"Do you ever get tired of it?The constant vigilance, the planning for every contingency?"
He's quiet for so long I think he might not answer.Finally, he says, "Sometimes."
I turn to face him then, finding him already looking at me. I swallow to wet my throat."Like when?"
"Like now," he says, his voice low and rough.
The air between us grows heavy.He's so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can see the subtle pulse at the base of his throat.If I leaned forward just a few inches, our lips would meet.
"Jake," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for but needing... something.
He lifts his hand, and for one heart-stopping moment I think he's going to touch my face.Instead, he gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my skin.
"We should head back," he says, his voice controlled once more."Early start tomorrow."
The withdrawal feels like a physical loss, cold air rushing into the space where his warmth had been.I nod, not trusting my voice, and follow him back toward the path that will lead us to the B&B.
As we walk, I try to make sense of what just happened, or rather, what almost happened.The pull between us is becoming impossible to ignore, a magnetic force drawing us closer despite all the reasons we should maintain distance.
Back at the Nighty Night, we pause at my door.Jake stands with his hands in his pockets, maintaining a careful distance.
"Goodnight, Trish," he says formally."Six AM departure tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Jake," I reply, equally formal on the surface, though my insides are anything but composed."Sleep well."
He turns to go, then pauses, looking back over hisshoulder."Lock your door," he says, his voice carrying a weight I don't fullyunderstand.
"I will."
Once inside my room, I lean against the closed door, my heartracing.Whatever is building between Jake and me has shifted tonight, evolving from simple attraction to something more complex and potentiallystupid.
But the most frighteningpart is thatI'm not sure I want to stopit.