Professionally Yours (Love on Main #1)

1. Bailey

Bailey

“Are you sure I shouldn’t have packed those hot pink pumps? What if an event calls for an eclectic outfit?” I asked.

“If there’s ever an event in Bexley that calls for hot pink pumps, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Harper said, her voice ringing through the car.

She had a point. I was moving to Bexley Grove, Tennessee, a small town an hour and a half outside of Nashville, and I couldn’t imagine the nightlife there would require hot pink anything.

I was going to work for an inn, not auditioning for the local hoochie-mama club—no offense to those who identified as hoochie mamas.

Harper, my best friend from college, was from Bexley, and she was the one who sent me the job listing.

From what I’d heard, The Whitaker Inn was a major tourist attraction in town, known for one-of-a-kind décor in every room and a sunset off the back porch that even a movie set couldn’t replicate.

Despite their growing success, they were looking to expand their services by offering more events, which brought me into the equation—a former double major in business and marketing with a chip on her shoulder and parents who made her success their entire world.

It had taken me two long hours to finish loading up my car, and now that I was actually on my way, the nerves and anxiety hit me full force.

“What if I’m not what they were looking for?” I asked hesitantly.

“Do not put negative energy into the universe. You would not have gotten the job if they didn’t think you could handle it. Plus, everyone in town knows the family who owns the place, and they’re good people,” Harper said.

She was right. Everything was going to be fine. I was going to be fine.

The job was a three-month contract, a trial run.

If I proved events could boost profits at Whitaker Inn, I’d be offered a full-time, salaried position.

If I failed, my parents had already drafted my fallback plan: event planning for my father’s financial firm.

Which meant retirement parties for old, rich men who had Viagra on autoship.

It also meant seeing my ex every single day—the same ex who taught me exactly what happens when you trust the wrong man.

“No pressure,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll text you once I settle in. Maybe walk around town and try to integrate myself with the locals.”

Harper paused before responding. “For starters, I would not say things like ‘integrate myself with the locals.’ It comes off a bit psychotic. Also, try to let loose for a bit when you get there! Maybe hit up Robby’s Tavern or bang a hot guy. Etcetera.”

“Not the kind of bang I was looking to make, Harp,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” she asked.

“No comment,” I replied, before ending the call.

It had been a while since I’d had any sort of successful hookup, and previously seeing my ex every day wasn’t helping.

Maybe a little reckless decision-making before starting my new job wouldn’t kill me.

I was young and hot-ish. I should be living it up and hitting the town, if only hitting the town didn’t drain my social battery so much.

There was no point in spiraling now when I had an entire drive to fill with my anxious thoughts.

And honestly, it wasn’t the worst distraction.

The drive to Bexley was gorgeous. Winding mountain roads were lined with trees painted in varying shades of green, their branches stretching overhead like they were trying to meet in the middle.

The temperature was warm but not stifling, the kind of heat that settled into your skin without making you sweat, and every lake I passed glittered as the sun began to set.

Every turn seemed to open up to something new—architecture that must have been around for decades or farmstands boasting about fresh strawberries.

The changing of seasons had always been my favorite growing up, and I had a particular affinity for the summer months. My phone said I was ten minutes from the inn when a looming billboard came into view, breaking through the trees.

“Welcome to Bexley Grove—a town where everyone has a place!”

They were laying the small-town hospitality on a little thick, if you asked me.

As I rolled through town, I noticed how different it felt from the city that was a mere hour and a half north of here.

Cozy mom-and-pop shops lined the street, overflowing window boxes of deep purple petunias spilling over the edges like they couldn’t be contained.

A solid red brick storefront called Maple the grass trimmed short but lush, and bright pink peonies, bursting with summer blooms, lined the path to the entrance, their soft fragrance drifting through the air.

The porch had white rocking chairs scattered around it, the kind you’d see at Cracker Barrel or your grandma’s house, and I could hear the faint creak of one as a breeze rocked it gently.

The building’s front windows were open, inviting that early evening air inside.

I felt my chest tighten a little, caught somewhere between nerves and the kind of excitement that made my stomach flutter.

I had interviewed with someone named Eli, who ran guest services, but had yet to speak to—or even virtually meet—the manager.

I knew the inn was family-owned, but their website didn’t go into the family in much depth.

I pulled around back and parked in a spot labeled Employees Only.

All of my bags would be a nightmare to lug in myself, so I grabbed my purse and fired off a quick text to Harper, letting her know I’d made it safely.

An email from my mother loomed in my notifications, and I swiped it away before it could ruin the moment.

Fresh start, Bailey. Prove yourself.

I worked to control my breathing, attempting to suffocate a potential panic attack before it started.

I stepped onto the porch and opened one side of a pair of gleaming French doors.

My eyes drifted to the check-in nook where a tall blond stood behind the desk.

I clocked the nametag Eli and thrust my hand out, ready to make a solid first impression.

“Hi, I’m Bailey, and I’m the new events coordinator! It’s really a pleasure to meet you. You interviewed me, remember? The grounds are stunning, and the town is really quite homey—not to mention marketable. Did I already say that I’m the new event planner?”

By the time I finished, I was out of breath, and Eli’s mouth was gaping in disbelief.

Screw up your first impression? Check.

While he processed everything that word-vomited out of my mouth, I got a better look at him. He was tall, at least six feet, compared to my measly five-two, with blond hair that reminded me of a golden retriever.

“Hi, Bailey. It’s great to meet you in person, finally,” he said. His voice was purposely gentle, like he didn’t want to scare me off. “I can already tell you’re exactly the kind of energy we were looking for when we posted this position.”

So maybe I wasn’t a massive screwup? The jury was still out.

“Let me run out and grab your bags, and I can show you where you’ll be living.”

While Eli worked to bring in my multiple suitcases, I took in the lobby.

Worn chairs surrounded a fireplace—the perfect spot to curl up with a book.

Beyond the lounge was the inn’s in-house restaurant and bar, where I would absolutely be grabbing a glass of wine later.

The check-in desk sat opposite the guest services table, but the true showstopper was the grand staircase at the center of the room, the soft glow of the chandelier reflecting off the light oak steps.

It had a wide base that narrowed as it rose, splitting to the right and left toward the rooms. I was already thinking of a dozen ways I could decorate it for weddings or company parties.

“Bailey, ready to head up?” Eli asked.

I hadn’t even noticed him return.

“Absolutely,” I said, hurrying over to help him carry my bags upstairs.

“Since lodging is included with your employment, you’ll be staying in room twelve.

All of the rooms were recently renovated, courtesy of my brother, but I have a particular fondness for this one.

It’s modeled after the falls at the edge of town.

Folks like to hike there when the weather is just right—not too hot to reach the top, not so cool that you need four layers.

I enjoy going up there myself when I have the time; I’ve always found the shades of blue and green calming. ”

I opened the door and immediately saw what he meant.

The room was washed in textured light blue, giving the impression of water running down the walls.

It felt bright and airy, and I couldn’t wait to see it in the morning sun.

This wasn’t your average copy-and-paste hotel room.

There was clear intentionality behind every design choice, and I could tell that some of the wooden dressers and end tables were thrifted antiques, their polished surfaces carrying the faint scent of cedar and aged wood.

The bed dominated the center of the room: a stunning four-poster base made of dark wood, draped with crisp white linens that smelled faintly of fresh lavender.

The floors creaked a bit as I walked around, but instead of being a nuisance, it only added to the room’s charm.

I paused in the middle of the space, taking a deep breath, before turning to face Eli.

“You have a queen-sized bed, your own bathroom, and a small kitchenette for coffee and light meals. It’s small but cozy, and I’m sure I could convince my brother to make any adjustments you wanted,” he added with a shy smile.

“You keep mentioning your brother. Is he the one who runs things around here?” I asked.

He lugged the rest of my bags in and leaned against the dresser.

“The Whitaker family runs The Whitaker Inn. My family. My grandparents built it in 1965, and my Ma, Camille, took it over in the early nineties. We’re mighty proud of it. I’m one of four brothers—”

“God bless your sweet mother,” I interjected.

“God bless her is right,” he chuckled. “She raised us without our dad and is the bedrock of this place and our family. Noah’s the oldest. He runs the inn now, takes the pressure off Ma.

Next comes little ole me, making sure guests have the best experience possible.

Grant handles the bar and restaurant, and Theo is finishing his last year of college.

We’re hoping we can convince him to move back home. ”

Noah runs the inn and is my boss.

“Most of the time when people say they run a family business, it sounds like a whole load of nepotism. But that’s not the vibe I’m getting here,” I joked.

“Ha. Despite how much my Ma loves us, she never would have let us get away with getting a big head or an inflated ego.” Eli’s expression softened as he looked at me. “This place could be home for you, Bailey, and I’m really excited for you to be a part of it.”

But when he said that, I struggled to believe him. A small spark of hope flickered, but I pushed it aside. I was merely an employee here, and if I didn’t deliver, I’d be cut loose.

Eli clapped his hands, walking backward toward the door. “The bar is open until ten, and the first drink is on the house. I’ll see you Monday morning,” he said as he headed out.

I could be responsible and start unpacking…or I could head down to the bar for a drink. Purely for inn research, of course. And maybe to calm my nerves before my first day.