Chapter Two #2
Main Street appeared prosperous enough, with every storefront filled.
There were no empty buildings covered in graffiti, no overflowing dumpsters in the alleyways or homeless people hunkered down on the sidewalks.
It was like stepping back in time sixty or seventy years…
or being plunked down in the middle of a movie set.
Planter boxes overflowed with flowers of every variety and color outside many businesses.
They passed a diner, police station, hair salon, bank, post office, a few specialty shops, a drugstore, and more.
“You lived here long?” New York was vibrant and gritty with jagged edges, like him—a place where a man could easily disappear amid the hustle and bustle and crowd.
A place like Redemption? Things moved at a much slower pace.
Everyone would know everyone else’s business.
Not ideal but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.
Being a reaper came with certain abilities that allowed him to do his job without detection.
“Full-time for a little over a year. I’ve spent every summer and holiday here since I was a child.”
She turned off Main Street and onto Ivy Lane.
It was quiet, with only a few houses set back from the road.
She pulled into the wide driveway of an older Victorian-style home perched at the end of the dead-end lane.
Beyond it was a vast woodland area. As advertised in the name, lush green ivy trailed up trellises against the building’s facade.
“This is Ivy House.”
The pride in her voice was telling. Despite the paint peeling in some areas and the slightly overgrown yard, it was impressive.
The architecture was quintessential Victorian, from the steep gabled roof, decorative woodwork, and inviting porch that wrapped around three sides of the house, to the stained glass in the front door.
There was even a turret and several dormers.
“How old is she?” Helmet tucked under his arm, Alex climbed out of the car and studied the building more closely. The blue, white, and black color scheme gave it a warm, inviting feel.
“Just over a hundred years.” Slipping her purse over her shoulder, Cilla waved him ahead of her.
He walked across the stone path to the wide porch stairs, waiting until she joined him.
“It was a private home until about twenty years ago. After my grandfather passed, my grandmother decided it was too big for her to live in by herself, but she didn’t want to give it up. ”
“I don’t blame her.” On first glance, the issues with the house appeared cosmetic. The bones seemed solid. There were no signs of sagging in the foundation and the roof looked fairly new. “They don’t build them like this anymore.”
“Not everyone agrees.”
There was a note of sadness, maybe even a hint of defiance in her voice. As he pondered that, she opened the front door and strolled in.
“You don’t keep the door locked?”
She sent him a sharp glance and frowned. “Not in the daytime. Redemption is a small town and we have guests. Besides, Rosa is here.”
As if on cue, a tall, dark-skinned woman poked her head out from a room farther down the hallway. “That you, Cilla?”
“It’s me. And I brought a new guest. Alex, this is Rosa Jones. Rosa, this is Alexiares Blackwell.”
Her eyebrows rose as Rosa flashed a smile and looked him up and down.
“Welcome to Ivy House. From the looks of you, you must be related to Sam Blackwell. Once you’re checked in and settled, there’s coffee, tea, and cold drinks in the kitchen.
Muffins and coffee cake, too, if either interests you. ” She ducked back into the kitchen.
Seemed his older brother had made an impression on the townspeople. Everyone he’d met had made the connection between them. Then Rosa’s last name registered. “Jones…any relation to Officer Jones?”
“His sister. As I said, we’re a small town. Rosa works here full time during the summer and part time during the offseason.” Cilla bustled behind an antique desk situated in an alcove at the base of the stairs and tucked her purse in the bottom drawer.
“Is that an original Wooton?” The black walnut gleamed, showcasing the multitude of compartments on either side of the classic Victorian desk. Unlike the slightly shabby appearance of the outside, the inside of the house shone like a fine gem.
The wide-planked hardwood floors showed some wear, but it only gave them character.
The scent of lemon polish and fresh flowers lingered in the air.
The walls above the wainscoting had been painted a soft blue, creating the perfect backdrop for the artwork hung there.
The overall impression was one of a much-loved home rather than a museum.
She rubbed her hand over the wood. “It is. You know your antiques.”
More like he’d been around long enough that he recognized quality furniture from any age in Earth’s history. He leaned down to examine the piece more closely. “This is a beauty.”
“It’s not practical, but I love it.” She opened a laptop and clicked around.
“Four of the suites are occupied. We stay pretty busy during the summer and fall months.” She nibbled on her bottom lip in a gesture Alex was sure she didn’t mean to be sensual but was.
“I’m putting you in the turret room.” She hesitated before rushing on.
“The plumbing works but needs updating.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Even if it wasn’t, this was where he needed to be.
He reached into his back pocket, breathing a sigh of relief when he found his wallet.
The way things were going, he wasn’t sure what to expect.
Then he opened it and found all his credit cards missing.
Biting back a curse, he checked the rest of the contents.
His driver’s and motorcycle licenses were both there.
Neither was of much use, since he currently didn’t have a working vehicle.
He thumbed through the bills and counted a thousand in cash.
No transportation, phone, or credit cards. This was shaping up to be one hell of an assignment. “Hope you take cash.” The money wouldn’t last long. He’d have to find a way to make it work. In truth, he hoped to be long gone before it became an issue.
Cilla shook her head. “I meant it when I said you could stay for free for the next couple of days. It’s the least I can do.”
“The accident wasn’t your fault. I veered into your lane,” he reminded her. It made him uncomfortable to be beholden to anyone.
“Let’s blame the deer. Seriously, I’m not currently renting the room, since it needs remodeling. You can get your feet back under you while you wait for the verdict on your motorcycle.”
Unless he wanted to make a fuss and risk alienating her, he had to accept. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He’d find a way to even the scales.
Cilla grabbed a set of keys from one of the multitude of desk cubbies. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.”
…
If his scowl was any indication, Alex Blackwell was not a man comfortable accepting help. She’d seen it at the accident site, with his insistence he was fine and his reluctance to allow the paramedics to examine him.
The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, he had her female parts sitting up and taking notice.
Since her divorce was finalized a year ago, she’d steered away from men and dating without a single problem or regret…
until now. While Alex projected a bad-boy persona with his leather jacket and motorcycle, he’d taken full responsibility for the crash and had remained calm, never raising his voice or getting angry. That spoke volumes about the man.
And he was passing through, she reminded herself.
Pulling on her professional innkeeper persona, she offered him a smile.
“Although each room has its own beverage station, as Rosa mentioned, there’s always coffee, tea, and cold drinks in the kitchen.
You’ll find muffins and cookies and other treats, as well as a variety of fresh fruit.
You’re welcome to help yourself to whatever is there.
Breakfast is served from eight to ten in the dining room”—she indicated a room to the left of the foyer—“unless you require special accommodation. If that’s the case, just let us know in advance.
Susie’s Diner is a favorite in town for other meals.
There’s an Italian restaurant and a Dairy Queen as well.
Oh, and Baker’s Dozen is new in town. There are also a couple of bars with limited menus, but the food is decent.
” And she was babbling. Something about Alex made her nervous.
It wasn’t anything he’d done. It was more her awareness of him as a man that was making her uncomfortable.
He’s a guest, she reminded herself. Plus, she’d destroyed his motorcycle. It wasn’t her fault, but still.
Picking up her pace, she all but raced up the final steps and bolted down the hall to the last door on the right.
“When he was here, your brother stayed in the room across the hall. It has French doors that lead out to a balcony with access to the back garden. It’s currently occupied or I’d have put you there.
” She jammed the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open. “Here you go.”
The wooden floors were clean but in dire need of refinishing.
The wallpaper was faded from decades of exposure to sunlight, and the drapes weren’t in much better shape.
“The mattress is new.” She’d made sure of it.
The walnut antique bedroom set gleamed, and the circular window seating area was inviting.
Alex’s arm accidentally brushed against hers as he entered the room. Her breath caught in her throat at the slight contact. He set his helmet down and walked over to the window. Standing off to the side in the shadows, he seemed more at home there than in the light.
Frowning, she shook off the fanciful thought.
“I’m sure it will be fine.” He canted his head toward another door. “Is that the bathroom?”