3. Andi
Chapter 3
Andi
A s we pull up to The Nest Bed-and-Breakfast, I take in the charming exterior. A big Victorian, painted a soft yellow with white trim. A wide wraparound porch spans the front, complete with rocking chairs and potted plants. It’s like something out of a postcard.
Captain Stone, aka grumpy Captain America, parks his truck and gestures toward the house. “It’s not usually full this time of year, and it’s within walking distance of downtown. Should suit your needs while you’re here.”
Between the coming mechanic’s bill and this unexpected stay, I’ll be emptying all my savings and hitting the limits on my credit cards, but I don’t have time to worry about it because he’s opening my door, offering me his hand to help me down. Standing next to him, I can’t help but notice he’s more than a foot taller than me and feels twice as wide with biceps the size of my head. He handles my duffel that I have packed to bursting like it’s no heavier than a feather. I have a few boxes and one large suitcase still in the back of my Jeep, but my essentials are in my bag, including clean underwear, makeup, and my vibrator.
Which just so happens to power on from Captain handling it.
We both hear the buzzing at the same time, and my eyes must bug out of my head as I try to tackle the big guy, reaching for my duffel. He sets it on the ground before shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from me, granting me some sense of modesty, I guess. But he’s already seen me at my lowest; why not bury myself under another six feet.
I nearly tear the bag open in my haste to shut it off, but because I can always go lower, I have to pull the bright-pink thing out of my bag to find the power button. With flaming cheeks and embarrassment coating my skin, I shut it off then shove it far down the duffel, hoping to dive right in after it.
Behind me, Captain clears his throat, and I wipe a clammy hand over my face. “I… That was, uh…”
He doesn’t utter a word, only carefully zips the bag back up and carries it like a grenade waiting to go off. Then he nods for me to follow him, and I dutifully fall in line, silently cursing the author of my life.
He leads me up the creaky wooden steps to the front door of the B&B. Inside, the foyer is warm and welcoming. White wainscoting lines the lower half of the walls, contrasting with the dark damask wallpaper above. A chandelier hangs from the high ceiling, bathing the space in a soft glow. To the left, a sitting area with carved wooden chairs and velvet chaise longue, straight off the cover of a romance novel, creates a welcoming atmosphere in front of the fireplace.
Before I can explore any further, a tall white woman with a long bob and most excellent balayage greets us, but not in a way I’m expecting.
“What are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to answer. What? I don’t know, too taken aback by her tone, but Captain steps in.
“We need a room.” He points to me. “ She needs a room.”
“And you brought her here?” The woman flicks her gaze between the two of us, and my good Southern manners keep my lips zipped, but if she works here, she’s got terrible customer service.
“Her car broke down, and she needs a place to stay.”
“Just for a night or two,” I add, and the woman’s eyes land on me again. They’re familiar. The shape of them reminds me of my rescuer’s, along with her mouth. Maybe that’s because she’s frowning. Like he does.
“Family discount,” he says, and the woman cants her head back, as if ready to argue, but a silent communication passes between them, and she relents after a few seconds.
At my evident confusion, he tells me, “This is Taryn. My sister.”
“Oh.” I smile. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Andi.”
She motions for me to follow her to the check-in desk. “I thought it’s our brother who takes in the strays.”
I freeze, unsure what she means. “Huh?”
“Knock it off,” Captain grumbles from behind me, and I realize her words were meant for her sibling when she smirks at him. And my shoulders curl in.
Stray . I’m the stray.
She’s making fun of me.
And after the day I’ve had, I don’t have the energy for a Bless Your Heart comeback. Instead, I reach for my duffel bag from Captain Stone’s shoulder and turn to leave.
He catches me around the waist. “Ignore her,” he whispers in my ear. “She’s just pissed I’m showing up unannounced. My sister doesn’t handle surprises well.”
“I am showing up unannounced,” I correct, but he shrugs and keeps his arm around me as he circles us both to face Taryn once again. She keys something into her computer and, a minute later, hands me a key.
“You don’t need a credit card?” I ask cautiously, and she looks to her brother, as if for the answer.
“We’ll take care of it when you check out.”
I’m not sure how I’m going to repay this man for all he’s done for me, but I’ll start a list to make sure I do before I head out of this town. He insists on carrying my bag upstairs as Taryn informs me of breakfast times and places I can visit, but I can barely listen with the heat of Captain America’s hand on my back, his fingers spanning what feels like the whole of it, his pinkie resting just above the curve of my butt.
“This one’s yours,” Taryn says when we reach my room. It’s covered in flowered wallpaper that I think would give me a headache if I stared at it for too long, but there’s a bed and a shower, and that’s all I need.
“This is great. I really appreciate you fitting me in.”
“It’s not a problem,” Taryn replies, though she’s glaring at her brother, who ignores her to set my bag down on the quilted comforter.
I do the same with my purse and guitar then pivot, intent on thanking him for his help, but he lifts his cell phone from his pocket and reads something on it.
“Fuck,” he grunts, and Taryn steps closer, reading whatever it is that has him suddenly so upset, and she shakes her head. Quietly curses, too.
“Everything okay?” I ask, and he raises his gaze to me. He shifts, taking one step toward me then stops suddenly, rocking as if he’s hit an invisible wall.
“I have to go. I need to take care of this.”
“Is it a fire?” When he shakes his head, I try again. “Is it something I can help with? I’d love to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me today.”
His dark eyes sweep over me, jaw tight, his hand balling into a fist at his side. “I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. I…hope it all turns out okay.”
He nods. “Nice meeting you, Andi.”
“You too,” I get out, but he’s already on his way down the hall, leaving me alone with his sister, who barely spares me a cursory glance.
“I’m here until five, if you need anything. The robe and slippers are complimentary.” Then she’s out, too, and I wait only a few seconds to close the door and belly flop onto the bed.
Rolling to my back, I blow out a long breath.
It’s been a day.
A week.
Months.
Making a fool of myself in front of Captain America is the cherry on top.
But it’s over now, and I can relax for a night. I stand to strip out of my clothes, and that’s when I realize I’m still in his zip-up. I bring the too-long sleeves up to my nose, smelling him again. The scent calms me, and I smile to myself even as I hang it up. I don’t know if or when I’ll see him again, but I can at least make sure the sweatshirt’s dry.
After I’m undressed, I turn the shower on hot and step under the spray. It feels amazing on my sore muscles, and as I lather up with the floral-scented soap provided, I think back over the last ten years of my life.
How I left home with stars in my eyes and big dreams in my head, only to arrive in LA alone and without much support besides a monthly check for fifty dollars from Mimi. She’d been the one to teach me how to play the guitar and the only one who wanted me to go when everyone else wanted me to stay. She’d been the only one I regularly talked to, and she’d been the only one to tell me not to give up, that my day would eventually come.
I thought it had when I lucked out by getting the job as Ryder St. James’s personal assistant. I assumed it would be my big break—that he would give me my break. Problem was, he turned out to be the male version of Miranda Priestly, except worse. He might be brilliant, but he has the maturity of a fourteen-year-old boy.
And the way he fired me after everything I’d done for him? It was humiliating. Not only in what he’d said, but in whom he’d said it in front of. It had been my last straw.
I couldn’t face the possibility of failure anymore. The fight had gone out of me. So, I packed up what was left of my dignity with the idea of going back home, ending up here instead.
No job, no prospects, and no more support because Mimi is gone. My grandmother passed, and I never even got to say goodbye. By the time I cobbled together enough money for a last-minute flight, I could only stay long enough for the funeral and dinner before hopping right back on the plane because Ryder needed me to take him to an emergency appointment. The idiot had crushed up Viagra with his coke, and his erection lasted a lot longer than a few hours.
It’s always a penis that ruins everything.
I turn off the water and step out of the shower. The plush robe and slippers provide some small comfort as I towel-dry my hair, and my mind drifts back to Captain America.
I bet his penis wouldn’t ruin anything.
In fact, I bet his penis would solve a lot of problems.
One of my favorite romance authors coined the term Stern Brunch Daddy , and I don’t think I really understood it until now.
Until this man showed up with his handsome frown and stately grays, taking over the situation like he could handle anything thrown at him. Like it was his pleasure to rescue me.
And, honestly, it felt nice to be rescued.
Felt even nicer when he put his hands on me.
I can’t deny the instant attraction, and I’m positive it wasn’t one-sided. I’m sure he thought he was being smooth, but almost every time I slanted my eyes to his, they were on my mouth first before darting up to mine. And I don’t think I imagined the way he seemed to hesitate when he left, his hand outstretched to me like he meant to hug me.
I would have happily obliged. Starved of affection for too long.
But clearly, the man has bigger issues to deal with right now than some random stray he plucked up off the side of the road.
And I need to figure out my own life—get my Jeep fixed and come up with a plan, starting with finding my vibrator from where I buried it in my bag.
Might as well relieve some stress while my Captain’s face is still fresh in my memory.