Picture Perfect
Esme didn’t bother to contain her grin as she followed Wyatt to the apple farm and the No Phailed Apples Inn. She doubted he could see her face in his rearview mirror. If he did, he’d assume she was chatting with someone on the phone, or had another reason for smiling.
Which she did. She’d only been in Phail for a few hours, and she’d fallen in love with the town and its cheerful, friendly people.
Even without the silliness of the names, the coordinated flower pots outside the well-kept businesses would appeal.
With the names, the place reached perfection.
A-peel-ing. She’d have to use that pun in at least one of the videos.
Now she was headed to the No Phailed Apples Inn, following a man named Wyatt who also appealed to her on many levels.
Sexy. Friendly. Appeared to be new in town from the way he’d chatted with Ginny. And that voice. Deep with a southern drawl that skittered along her skin. Very much like the cowboy she’d imagined earlier.
Esme had spent most of her career surrounded by beautiful people and some of the most incredible vistas on the planet.
She’d never felt a pull like the one she felt to Phail, a town that didn’t take itself too seriously.
That was a refreshing change. She felt the same pull to Wyatt, a rough and tumble man who appeared to be as straightforward as the town.
If he worked at the No Phailed Apples Farm, she’d have time to get to know him.
To discover if her people radar was working correctly.
She’d been fooled by too many bright smiles over the years. That made her laugh. Wyatt had barely cracked a grin, and that had been over the food, which had been delicious.
After years of worrying about her appearance for her career, Esme ate whatever and whenever she wanted. She’d been lucky to be born with an excellent metabolism. She’d never starved herself like some of her colleagues.
She’d resorted to eating in her hotel rooms at most of her jobs. If people saw her eating like a normal human being, rumors would explode about her vomiting to maintain her shape.
She shuddered at the thought. No career was worth that. And if people didn’t like the way she looked, she no longer cared.
She glanced at her scar in the rearview mirror.
After the attack, the plastic surgeons had done their thing, but with the depth and angle of the wound, the scar remained.
It didn’t bother her much, which surprised her.
She’d learned makeup techniques from the aestheticians she’d worked with over the years, but since retiring as a model, she found she didn’t care.
Humans had scars, and she was allowing herself to be human. No makeup unless she felt the desire, which hadn’t happened in many months.
While people always reacted to the scar, no one other than the boy had asked her questions about it in Phail. Another reason she was glad to be retired. People mostly left her alone.
A shudder ran through her at the thought of the paparazzi, and her eyes went to the mirrors again. No one behind her. Only Wyatt in front of her.
She imagined he would be quite the deterrent if any photographers showed up to force themselves into her face. A hard look from those deep eyes, and she imagined people like Tristan Downey would be running for the hills.
The man continued to follow her, even more than a year after she’d left the hospital and her career. Again, she wondered if he, or another member of the paparazzi, had set her up and paid a thug to attack her just so they could sell more pictures?
Or had it been a former colleague? A person who considered Esme a rival.
Maybe it was a random attack, and she was making herself out to be more important than she was.
The police had barely refrained from rolling their eyes at what they deemed her conspiracy theories.
Attacks in LA happened all the time. She’d just been in the wrong place at the worst time. Nothing more.
She could imagine Nans grousing about the police not taking Esme’s theories seriously. Garcias don’t live in fantasy worlds, Esme. We’re tough and determined. We’re good people, remember that.
“I miss you, Nans. Thanks for everything.”
Ahead of her, Wyatt tapped his brakes, and his blinker flashed. Esme patted Houdini’s steering wheel. “Looks like we’re here.”
A wooden sign mounted on the fence to her right proved her correct. The No Phailed Apples Inn was written in cursive, with apples and blossoms decorating the sign. Simple and welcoming.
She followed Wyatt’s car down the drive. On her left, the inn welcomed her with a matching sign and soft yellow siding. Pretty. She’d definitely do a video showcasing the porches she could see. They’d be perfect places to sip her tea and watch the sun rise or set.
An enormous garden filled the space between the inn and another farmhouse, a garden that begged her to visit. Soon, she promised herself.
She followed Wyatt to the large parking area in front of the barn that sat across the drive from the buildings.
Picture perfect.
The photographers she’d worked with would be salivating by now.
Apple trees grew everywhere. Along with the weathered red barn, this would be a prime location for a shoot promoting jeans, perfume, or skincare products advertising a clean and wholesome look.
Tuxedos and evening gowns would be incongruous, and she knew a few photographers who could pull it off.
Esme grabbed her bag and locked up Houdini, although she figured she probably didn’t have to. Safety and peace exuded from the grounds. She hadn’t led a life that left her complacent, so she locked up.
Wyatt stood beside his car, watching her with a slight smile on his face. He fit into the landscape, and she found herself smiling back. “This is incredible. Everything is movie-set gorgeous, and the scent of apples in the air makes it even better.”
His lips tipped up as he nodded. “I’ve only been here a few days, but it’s a good place.”
She grinned. “I’m betting you don’t do hyperbole.”
His gaze raked over her body, leaving tingles in its wake. “Not often, but there are circumstances where I can be expressive.”
Wow. Her toes curled into her flats to help keep her grounded. She was used to her appearance being important, the only thing some people saw. She was used to being assessed as an object.
This was different. She couldn’t say how or why, but she knew Wyatt was seeing her, not just what she looked like.
And maybe the silliness of Phail had gone to her head.
Wyatt nodded at her car. “Can I help you with your bags?”
She beeped Houdini open again. “I was so captured by the scenery, I forgot.”
He closed the distance to help, but she waved him away as she grabbed a duffel. “I’m good. I only need this one.”
His eyebrows shot up. “It’s not much bigger than your purse.”
She laughed. “It’s enough to get me through a few days while I decide how long to stay.”
His gaze returned to hers, and those deep, sexy eyes flared with heat.
Instead of commenting or acting on it, Wyatt gestured for her to walk with him back up the driveway.
She had to stop and soak in the garden. “This is beautiful. It makes me want to morph into a fairy who lives there forever.”
And where had that come from? Her life had been nothing if not practical. From living with her addict mother, to helping Nans, and modeling, her practical nature always won out.
Instead of laughing at her, Wyatt nodded. “My buddy Gray has a touch with plants. He’s created something magical here. I’m hoping to pull off some magic of my own.”
A shock of surprise passed over his face. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud either.
“Are you a gardener?”
His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Botanist.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a botanist before. What are you hoping to do here?”
His dusky skin flushed as he shrugged. “Still planning that out. Hoping to improve the health of the orchard and the apples. Maybe try to tweak some plants to create something new.”
A shiver ran through her. She was becoming something new herself. “I’d love to hear more. I don’t know much about plants. Not yet, anyway.”
He nodded at that, those eyes serious on hers.
Esme was very glad she’d spotted Phail on the map.
Wyatt opened the door to the No Phailed Apples Inn and watched Esme’s face as the music chimed out. He knew that it was part of an old song about sitting under an apple tree. The tune was charming and bright, matching the inn’s tone.
Esme’s face brightened with a smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
Then she turned her attention to the lobby, and her smile grew.
Amber had decorated the entire inn with local memorabilia and artwork. The front room held a reception area with a gift shop that reflected much of what was sold in Piper’s shop. It also sold the farm’s cider and Dani’s honey and metal art, and Olivia’s books.
Esme’s eyes tracked quickly over the entire space, as if ensuring she was safe, then returned for a slow tour of everything. Her expressive mouth showed her pleasure in what she saw.
Amber entered from the back, her baby bump more visible every day. She smiled at Wyatt, and he returned it. “Hi, Amber. How are you and the sprout doing today?”
Her smile bloomed until her whole body appeared to glow. He’d never met anyone so thrilled to be growing a human. She patted her belly. “We’re great, thanks.”
He’d learned that while Amber was naturally quiet and shy, she was also an excellent innkeeper who enjoyed taking care of her guests. He’d seen her persona change in an instant when she ran the inn.
Proving him correct, Amber turned to Esme. “I’m Amber Malssum, welcome to the No Phailed Apples Inn. I’m guessing you’re Esme?”
Esme lit up the room with that million-watt smile. “I am. And I’ve fallen in love with your inn already. It’s so welcoming. I love how you’ve incorporated the past and present in the way you’ve decorated. It feels like home.”
Her statement had Wyatt turning to look at the space with a new eye.
“Thank you. We had so much help with the decorating. The people of Phail and the surrounding areas dug into their attics for some of these treasures.”
Esme sighed happily. “Small towns are the best. People are always ready to help each other out.”
Amber nodded. “Exactly. Feel free to wander the inn and ask any questions you like. Same with the farm. There’s a lot to explore and enjoy here.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I arrived in Phail earlier today, and several people mentioned the inn and suggested I stay here.”
Amber’s cheeks flushed. “That’s wonderful.” Amber moved to the antique desk which served as her reception area. “I’ve put you in Duckington Palace.”
Esme laughed, the sound almost as potent as her smile. “Duckington Palace. I love that. Do you have ducks here on the farm?”
Amber nodded. “My sister, Jolie, has a flock. Their coop is the original Duckington Palace, but I had to use the name for one of our rooms.”
“I can’t wait to see it. I’m actually doing a series of videos celebrating small towns on social media.
They won’t post immediately as I’m stockpiling videos to use in a few weeks.
I’ve done one at the splash park, a couple in Phail Central, and at the No Fail Diner.
If you don’t mind, I’d love to do more here showcasing your inn and the farm itself. ”
Amber smiled. “As long as I don’t have to be in them, you’re welcome to go ahead.”
Esme’s eyes flashed sympathy, as if she knew Amber had experienced a good reason to keep herself out of the videos. “I rarely show people, and only with their permission. I can show you the ones I’ve done to give you an idea of how I work.”
Taking that as his cue, Wyatt nodded. “I’m off to take the compost buckets to the Worminator.”
Esme’s head whipped up. “The Worminator? What’s that?”
He wondered what her reaction would be. “A compost facility here on the farm.”
Instead of being repulsed, Esme lit up. “Your own compost facility? I can’t wait to check it out.’
Amber smiled as her gaze flicked between the two of them. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow, Wyatt? You could take Esme on a tour of the farm and show her all the places. I’m betting she’ll love Chick Inn Time, too.”
Esme laughed, even as her face flushed and her eyes shot to his. “I’d love to see everything, but I don’t want to put you out again.”
“You haven’t put me out at all. And I’m free tomorrow.”
He didn’t add that he was free because he didn’t have an actual plan yet. He needed to solidify his ideas for his greenhouse and projects so that he would contribute to the farm, rather than be a drain on resources.
Amber smiled. “Why don’t you meet here for breakfast in the morning, and then you can map out a plan for the day?”
Feeling as if he’d just been set up, and not even a little upset about it, Wyatt nodded and left the women behind.
Thanks to Amber, he now had an opportunity to spend more time with the intriguing Esme. Maybe find out whose ass needed kicking for putting that scar on her face. It didn’t take a genius to know it had been a deliberate attack, not an accident.
She must have been terrified. His military background meant he knew more about scars than he liked. Someone had attacked her in an attempt to disfigure her.
He hoped that person was rotting his ass in jail for the rest of his life. If not, he’d see if he could make that happen.