Chapter 4
Shiller’s B&B sat at the end of Main Street, its porch stretched wide and pale in the dark with glorious spring flowers edging the grass and around the ancient trees. One floor was lit, the windows throwing warm squares into the yard.
Bianca cut the engine and took a deep breath.
Spending dinner alone with Adam had reminded her that she knew how to relax.
It had been so long since she’d been on an actual date.
Not that they’d had a date, but still. She’d had fun.
The tension had been over the top and the cool sexual kind, and the bartender could definitely flirt.
She angled her head to see the bulging clouds beginning to cover the moon. Thunder rolled across the hills, slow and heavy, followed by a silence that pressed in. The air smelled sharp and wet, rain close enough to raise the hairs on her arms.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out.
The porch light burned steadily, and she paused when she saw Clancy and Ewan sitting on the porch swing. “Boys?”
Clancy finished plopping the remnants of a sandwich into his mouth, still wearing the suit from earlier. He had, however, ditched the tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it back here tonight.” His blue eyes sizzled beneath the mellow light.
Was that a dig? It felt like one. She climbed the steps, her boots thudding softly on the wood. “I told you I planned to stay here. Texted you earlier.”
“Yeah. But that cowboy bartender was looking at you like you were dessert.” Clancy kicked back, crossing his ankles and showing his leather loafers.
Somewhat true. Adam had not only looked at her like that, he’d offered weeks of fun.
Ewan looked from Clancy to her, one of his eyebrows arching. While Clancy handled the contracts and law, Ewan worked as the art director. He saw angles, structures, and textures like no one else. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Bianca said.
“Ha,” Clancy countered. “Bianca has been here one night and already found an extra to date.”
Ewan glanced at him. “You sound jealous.” Unlike Clancy, Ewan wore jeans and a flannel shirt with well-used boots.
He liked to tromp around a location to find just the right places to film.
He wore his blond hair longer to his shoulders and gold-rimmed glasses that framed his green eyes. “You jealous, Clancy?”
Yeah, sometimes the two of them got sick of each other.
Clancy rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I would rather the reputation of the production company didn’t hit the trash with our pre-production field team.”
Irritation clawed through Bianca, but before she could retort, Ewan chortled.
He laughed. “Whatever. Didn’t you sleep with the mayor of Bakerville while we were filming that limited series last year? Before the actors even landed in town?”
Hey. Wasn’t that right about when Clancy asked her out? “Well?” Bianca asked.
Clancy checked his watch. “I’m sure I don’t remember. If I had slept with the mayor, it would’ve been before Bianca finally, and very briefly, agreed to go on a couple of dates with me.”
Ewan kicked dirt off his boot. “That was a bad idea, and you both know it. We work together in too close of conditions for any of us to date.” The guy seemed to completely forget he was dating Liam, their director.
Exasperation filtered through her. “Why are you two dolts sitting on Mrs. Shiller’s porch?”
Now Clancy chuckled. “She let us sit inside until eight, but then she said the place closed except for guests, so we’d have to wait for you on the porch. But she did make us sandwiches.”
“Roast beef,” Ewan added.
Bianca moved toward the door. “Did you check in at the Inn by the water?”
“Yep,” Ewan said.
Good. She liked having a bit of distance between them in case she decided to take Adam up on his offer.
Her body tingled at the thought. It was so unlike her, but she was tired of just working.
“I’m having coffee on a working ranch tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you know if it seems like a good place to film. That is, if it’s okay with the owners.”
Clancy stood. “Good. I have one farmhouse chosen for the main family scenes, but we could use a couple more.”
Bianca’s eyes felt gritty. Man, she needed sleep. “You got the contracts signed already?”
“Not yet. The Willoughbys wanted a night to think about it, but according to our investigators, they need the money for their farm. They’ve applied for two loans, each in the fifty thousand dollar range—one for back taxes and one to plant new crops—but have been turned down.
” Lightning zapped nearby, illuminating Clancy.
“Let’s scout somewhere tropical for the next movie. I don’t care if it’s a western.”
Ewan stood, brushing crumbs off his pants. “I’m on board with that. Come on. Let’s drive both cars to the bar and then you can drive us to the Inn. I’m in the mood for tequila.”
Clancy studied her. “We thought we’d hit the town and have a couple of drinks. Want to come and see the bars at night?”
“No thanks.” She fought a yawn. Speaking at town meetings took energy, although she’d done it enough times that she no longer felt like throwing up afterward. “I need sleep. See you tomorrow.” She opened the door and walked inside, letting the warm smell of chocolate chip cookies wash over her.
Mrs. Shiller hustled in from the kitchen wearing a housecoat, the belt knotted tight at her waist. Pink curlers dotted her white hair, and a thick layer of cream coated her face, giving her a faint shine.
She looked ready for bed and wide awake at the same time.
In her arms was a heavy glass vase crowded with roses, dark red and tightly furled, their smell thick and heady in the doorway.
“Oh good. You made it back before the rain,” she said.
“I—yeah,” Bianca said, shutting the door. “I didn’t expect anyone to be up.”
Mrs. Shiller smiled. “Were your friends still on the porch?”
“Yes.” Bianca fought a smile. “That was kind of you to give them dinner.” She sniffed. “These are beautiful. Who gave you roses?”
Mrs. Shiller placed the vase on the table near the door. “They’re for you.”
“For me?” Bianca paused.
“Yes.” Mrs. Shiller pulled out a sealed white envelope, her lips pursing. “They were on the front porch, and I don’t know who they’re from. I even held this to the light but couldn’t read anything.” She handed it to Bianca and didn’t move.
Bianca took the envelope and studied the roses. They were spectacular. “Did these arrive before or after my friends did?”
“Before. Maybe about fifteen minutes? Someone rang the bell, but when I opened the door, only the roses waited for me.” Mrs. Shiller squinted, looking closer at the envelope. “Well?”
Well, all right. Bianca tore open the envelope. Was there any chance Adam had sent the flowers? She’d never admit it, but the idea sent a small thrill through her. Maybe not so small of one. He didn’t seem like a roses type of guy, but he was trying to get her into bed.
She pulled out the card to read:
You looked lovely tonight.
Her throat tightened as she read the rest.
Although a little tired. I’d like to help you with that.
The rain started in earnest, drumming against the porch roof and windows, the sound filling the space around them.
Mrs. Shiller ducked her head to read. “That isn’t signed.”
Bianca frowned, instinct ticking at the base of her neck. “No, it isn’t.” Yeah, Adam would like to help her in all sorts of ways, but the note didn’t sound like him. Not that she knew him. Maybe he played weird games like this.
Mrs. Shiller rocked back on her purple slippers. “You looked lovely but tired? That’s what they call one of those backhanded compliments, you know? The whole ‘your butt doesn’t look as big as usual in those jeans’ type of thing. Who would send that?”
Bianca swallowed. “I’m not sure.” She looked down at Mrs. Shiller’s faded blue eyes. “There can’t be more than one florist in town, right?”
“Right.” Mrs. Shiller pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and quickly pressed buttons before holding it to her ear.
“Hi, Ellen, this is Mrs. Shiller. How are you, dear?” She listened and then nodded.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late at night, but we had a flower delivery here, and the card isn’t signed.
Could you tell us who sent the flowers?” She tapped one nail against her pink lips.
“I see. Okay. Thank you.” She ended the call and slid the phone into her pocket.
“Ellen says nobody bought roses from her this week. Maybe they came from Billings?”
Bianca eyed the innocuous card. “I met Ellen earlier at the meeting, and she seemed nice. But is there any chance she’s protecting somebody?”
Mrs. Shiller straightened. “I don’t know. She hasn’t been here long, so I don’t know her well yet. But who in the world would she be protecting?”
Bianca read it again. “The wording is weird.”
“Yep.” Mrs. Shiller peered up at her. “Should we call the sheriff?”
The fragrant blooms filled the night with their rich scent. “And say what? Somebody gave me flowers?” Bianca shook her head. “The note isn’t threatening. However, how many florists do you think there are in Billings?”
“Maybe ten to fifteen? And that doesn’t count the ones you can get in the mail. Plus, some people can grow roses this pretty. It’s early in the year, but the sunnier places in Montana make that possible.”
Bianca shrugged out of her coat. Maybe Clancy or Ewan had seen somebody leave the flowers. She’d talk to them in the morning.
Mrs. Shiller picked up the vase again, adjusting her grip. “I’ll put these in the parlor. The smell will carry better in there. Also, I’m free tomorrow. I’ll call the florists in Billings.”
“That’s not necessary.” Bianca flopped her coat over her arm.
“It’s okay. I’ve always wanted to be a detective.” Mrs. Shiller placed the vase near the piano. “Can I get you any tea or a snack?”
“No, thank you.” Bianca smiled and refused to look at the flowers again. “I’m heading to bed.” She strode up the wooden stairs to the far room at the end of the hall and walked inside, once again appreciating the white and mint green décor as well as the attached bath.
She took a quick shower and changed into her pajamas, slathering cream on her face before heading to bed, her skin still warm, the mirror fogged, the scent of soap clinging to her.
Just as she’d snuggled in, sheets cool against her legs, her phone buzzed.
She didn’t recognize the number, and her heart rate ticked up, a flicker of anticipation she didn’t bother suppressing. “Hello.”
“You thinking about me?” Adam’s rich voice poured over the line, low and unhurried.
She leaned back into the pillows, letting her body sink. “Should I be?”
“You absolutely should be,” he said. “Think how much nicer this rainstorm would be to watch if we did it together.”
She did like the sound of the rain splashing against the roof, steady and intimate, the kind of sound that made everything else fall away. “You are seriously horny.”
“You’re seriously correct about that. Only since you got to town, though.”
She quite liked that he didn’t play games. At all. The honesty felt like a caress through her body. “It has been a while for me,” she admitted, her voice softer now.
“Ditto.”
She wasn’t quite sure she believed him. “Did you send me flowers?”
Silence ticked for a moment, stretched just enough to be felt. “No. Should I have?”
She grinned into the darkness, biting her lip. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” A faint rustle carried across the line. Clothing? The thought landed warm and slow. “Did you receive flowers?”
“Yes, but I don’t know who sent them.” In a small town like Mineral Lake, few secrets lived on. Perhaps she’d find the sender the next day. Or perhaps she wouldn’t, and that possibility lingered.
He chuckled, low. “That’s good to know. I’m sure you have more than one admirer in town. Do me a favor? When you visit Dawn tomorrow, don’t talk her into using Hawk’s place for filming. She’ll be delighted, and he’ll be ticked.”
“I can’t promise that, but I’ll see. I think Clancy has a farm already in mind and almost under contract, so we might be okay.” She didn’t want to mess up Hawk and Dawn’s relationship, although from what she’d noticed, Hawk adored the woman. If Dawn wanted to film at his farm, he’d say yes.
“What farm?” Adam asked.
Bianca stretched, slow and indulgent. “The Willoughbys’ Farm, wherever that is.” Clancy did a great job finding locals, although that wasn’t his primary job.
“Interesting. All right. I’m meeting Hawk early tomorrow to mend some fences, and I’m sure it’ll still be raining. My day is packed. Do you want to join me for a later dinner, maybe at Paul’s Pizza Joint?”
Another date. With Adam. The thought warmed her clear through. “I would,” she murmured, pausing just long enough to make him wait. “How did you get my phone number, anyway?”
“You gave it to the city clerk at the meeting tonight. Everyone has it, darlin’.”
Just wonderful.