Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
SUMMER
Evers opened the passenger door of the SUV, waiting until I was fastening my seatbelt before closing the door and rounding the hood to get in himself.
As soon as the door was shut, he picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and a moment later said "It's Evers. Run a Warren Smithfield. I need an address. Western North Carolina. Text it to me."
He put the phone in the center console and looked at me with burning eyes. The heat between my legs intensified. My head spun with the utter oddness of the situation.
This whole night had been a big step outside my world. Sleazy bars and strip clubs were not in my universe.
"I never in a million years pictured you in a strip club," Evers said, his voice a low rumble, "but watching you watch that girl dance was the fucking hottest thing I've ever seen."
He'd said that before, in the club. Making sure I understood, I clarified, "Watching me watch her? Don't you mean watching her?"
Slowly, Evers shook his head. "No, baby.
I've seen plenty of strippers dance. That girl is nothing next to you.
But the look on your face while you watched her dance, your wide eyes and the flush on your cheeks, the way it spread down your neck and across your chest until I wanted to unzip that dress and see how far that pretty pink color went…
No, Summer. Watching you watch her. That's what was hot. "
Bright light flashed through the windows as a car pulled into the lot, then another. I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was after eight, and Jade had been right, The King's Club was starting to pick up.
Evers noticed, too. "I wish we already had a hotel room. I want you in bed."
He reached across the center console and slid his fingers across my cheek to bury themselves in my hair, curving around the back of my head and pulling me forward until his lips met mine, hungry and impatient.
I shifted in my seat, turning, straining against the seatbelt, trying to get closer. I'd been dead set against that hotel room. Now I was right there with him. We needed a room. A bed.
After almost two months apart, the couch in the library had not been enough.
Evers' phone beeped with a text and he pulled back, breaking our kiss. I let out a short whimper at the loss of contact. At the loss of him.
Checking the screen, he stared at the address for a moment before he said, "I guess you get your wish. We're headed to Griffen's hometown. Your father's friend has a place in the hills outside of Sawyers Bend."
The sun was slowly setting over the mountains as we drove west out of Asheville. The city transitioned quickly to suburbs and then, in the blink of an eye, to nothing but green mountains.
The drive wasn't much more than a half hour, and again, the transition from mountains to civilization was abrupt. No fast food restaurants or big box stores, just the four-lane road moving to two lanes and then Main Street.
Sawyers Bend was a perfect slice of Americana. Main Street was busy, couples strolling hand-in-hand past shops, galleries, restaurants, and the occasional bar. Storefronts had neatly-painted windows, flowerpots by the doors, striped awnings and wrought iron benches.
Evers slowed the SUV to a crawl, held up by tourist traffic and crowded crosswalks, giving me plenty of time to soak in the local flavor.
Art galleries showcasing paintings, sculptures and dramatic woodcarvings.
Two craft breweries. This area of North Carolina seemed to have as many craft breweries as churches, which is saying something in the Bible Belt.
Not to mention all the restaurants. Based on the dining options, I guessed foodies flocked to Western North Carolina along with the beer and nature lovers.
At the end of Main Street, just after the last of the shops and restaurants, a massive stone and timber building loomed over the street. Evers pulled into the curved drive beneath a dark red awning and parked. A uniformed valet came to his side of the SUV.
"Checking in?" he asked when Evers lowered the window.
"We'd like to, but we don't have a reservation. Do you know if you're full tonight?"
"You'll have to ask inside, but I'm fairly sure we have rooms available. Would you like me to take care of your vehicle? I can pull it to the side and the desk will let me know if you need me to park it."
"That would be great, thanks."
I let myself out of the car, looking through the glass double doors into the lobby. A brass plaque beside the door read The Inn at Sawyers Bend.
Evers and I were met at the front desk by a young woman in a dark red jacket similar to the valet’s.
"Can I help you?" she asked with a pleasant smile.
"We don't have a reservation," Evers said. "Do you have any rooms available?"
"We do, sir. What are you looking for?"
"I'm open to ideas. What do you have?"
"We have several of our standard rooms, all unique and custom-designed with king size beds, flat-screen televisions, broadband Internet, and luxury baths.
Most have beautiful views of the mountains.
We have two suites available and one of the cottages.
I believe—" she clicked a few buttons on her keyboard. "Yes, the Honeymoon Cottage."
Evers leaned across the desk and flashed his most charming grin. "Tell me about the Honeymoon Cottage," he said with a wink at me.
I opened my mouth to tell him we didn't need anything fancy when he pulled me close, dropped his lips to my ear, and whispered almost inaudibly, "Don't argue and don't say my name."
He kissed my cheek before he straightened, and I gave an internal shrug. If he wanted to pay for the Honeymoon Cottage, I wasn't going to get in his way. After what I owed for the info on my dad, I wasn't in any shape to offer to cover the room. As for the name thing, I'd figure that out later.
Staring at us with polite speculation in her eyes, the clerk said, "Our Honeymoon Cottage is two rooms, a spacious master bedroom and open living room with dining area and kitchen.
The bath is imported marble and features a soaking tub built for two.
The cottage has a screened-in porch overlooking the river and a stone fireplace, with a fire already laid.
The interior design and all furnishings were created specifically for the cottage.
It's one of our most luxurious spaces, and its location offers both privacy and beautiful views of the river and the mountains. "
"We'll take it." Evers pulled a credit card from his wallet and slid it across the counter.
She picked it up, read the front, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Wilcox. How long will you be staying with us?"
"Only tonight. Is the cottage available for tomorrow night if our plans change?"
"It is. May I ask, have you eaten yet?"
"We haven't. Do you have any recommendations?"
"There are a number of excellent restaurants within walking distance. We also have an award-winning restaurant on site." Giving us an assessing look she offered, "Room service is available if you aren't interested in a crowded dining room."
Evers' eyes gleamed with interest. "Is there a menu available in the room?"
"There is."
"Does that work for you?" he asked.
Alone with Evers? Food or no food, being anywhere alone with Evers worked for me.
"Sounds great," I agreed.
"Our car is out front, the valet said he'd wait—"
"I'll take care of everything." She handed Evers back his card.
"One moment and I'll have someone show you to the cottage.
If you're interested in dining in, you'll want to look at the menu and order right away.
The kitchen closes in an hour and I wouldn't want you to miss it.
If you do, there are other options in town, but our restaurant really is exceptional. "
"Our bags?"
"They'll be delivered to the cottage, Mr. Wilcox. They'll follow you by a minute or two, not much more." She looked up, catching the eye of a nearby bellhop. He was at our side a moment later. "James, please show our new guests to the Honeymoon Cottage."
"Of course, this way."
Evers and I fell in behind the bellhop, his uniform a match for the rest of the staff. I was impressed. Thanks to my job, I'd stayed in a lot of hotels, from the big and corporate to small, exclusive boutique hotels, some of them among the best in the country.
The Inn at Sawyers Bend had a polish and professionalism I would have expected in a bigger city, not in a small mountain tourist town.
Looking around at the well-managed hustle and bustle of the busy inn and crowded restaurant, the attention to detail was first rate.
The main room of the inn was welcoming and majestic, with stone fireplaces on either side tall enough to stand in, a vaulted ceiling with timber beams, and comfortable sitting areas around coffee tables, some of which had game boards set out. Checkers and chess. A puzzle.
A few were being used by guests, gathering in the central area to visit and share the adventures of their day. As we passed I caught snatches of conversation. Someone had been tubing, another couple hiking, and a third had been exploring the local breweries and restaurants.
This was the place that had cast Griffen out. Why? As if my thoughts had conjured him from thin air, Griffen appeared behind the bar at the far end of the restaurant. I stopped, stumbling into Evers, staring. Griffen was in Atlanta with Cynthia. What—?
Evers took my arm, following my gaze. When his eyes landed on the Griffen look-alike, he tugged me back into motion, shifting position so I was on his other side, blocking my view of the bar. Before I could say anything, he shot me a look and gave a short shake of his head.