Chapter 6
LAURYN
T he Wildwood Valley Inn was officially open for business.
I stood near the front desk where I’d work every day as Bobbi’s guest relations manager, champagne glass in hand, watching the guests arrive and mingle.
The little inn looked nothing like it had six months ago.
The warped floorboards had been replaced.
The wallpaper that once looked like it belonged in a haunted dollhouse was gone.
Everything gleamed and smelled like pine and promise.
And somehow, despite all the hard work and stress and dust in places dust should never be, this had been fun. Mostly because of the man currently sliding an arm around my waist.
“Tell me the truth,” Trey murmured, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “Do I get hotter every time I fix something?”
I turned into him, my smile stretching wide. “You do.”
“And what about when I mop a floor?”
“Dangerously sexy.”
He gave me a mock-serious nod. “So if I start re-caulking the tub in our cabin tonight…”
I laughed and bumped his hip with mine. “Don’t tease me unless you mean it.”
His hand settled at my lower back, warm and familiar. Safe. God, I loved this man.
We hadn’t rushed anything. We still weren’t married—despite what literally everyone in this town expected. But we were living together in a small cabin on the edge of town, waking up tangled in each other, sharing coffee and kisses and the kind of quiet, joyful routine I’d never known I wanted.
It wasn’t a whirlwind anymore. It was better. It was real.
A few feet away, Bobbi clinked her glass with the back of a butter knife, commanding everyone’s attention like a general in a war zone made of florals and finger foods.
“Y’all,” she said, beaming at the crowd. “This place may be new and polished now, but it’s still ours. It’s still the Wildwood Valley Inn. It would be perfect for anyone thinking about getting married.” She turned toward us. “I happen to know a certain couple who looks mighty cozy right about now.”
Trey groaned beside me. “Here we go.”
Heads turned. All eyes found us.
“Oh no,” I whispered, lifting my glass in mock warning. “She’s doing it.”
“I’m just saying,” Bobbi continued, clearly delighted with herself, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if this place hosted its first wedding.”
“She’s relentless,” I muttered.
“I wonder who she means.” Trey raised his voice just enough to earn a few laughs from the crowd. Then, louder, he called, “Too bad there’s no banquet hall, Aunt Bobbi. Where would they even put a wedding in this place?”
Bobbi placed a hand on her hip, entirely undeterred. “Oh, I don’t know. Someone creative could figure it out.”
I leaned into my man, smiling against his shoulder. “I’ll work on that,” I whispered.
His head tilted down, eyes catching mine. “You will?”
I shrugged, feigning innocence. “You never know. Just in case.”
We shared a quiet look—one filled with all the things we weren’t in a hurry to name, but already felt. Then he dipped his head and kissed me, slow and soft, like there wasn’t a party happening around us.
Someone whistled. Bobbi cackled. And I didn’t care. Not one bit.
We weren’t rushing. We weren’t performing. We were building something real. And when the time came—when we were ready—we’d do it our way. Preferably in a small chapel tucked into the trees with terrible cell service and lots of cake.
But for now, I had champagne and a job I loved working alongside Bobbi as guest relations manager. Most important of all, though, I had the man who’d accidentally stolen my heart by pretending to be someone else, then proving to me who he really was.
Mine.