Chapter Seven
ABBY
There’s only one way to find out what he wants . Abby peered through her kitchen window, partially hidden by the damask curtain.
The mystery man from CeCe’s café stood on the curb staring at the inn with an unreadable expression. First, he’d followed her home yesterday, and now this . What did he want? Was he stalking her? At the possibility, anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach.
Whatever his intentions, she had an uneasy feeling despite her best attempts to explain away his odd behavior.
Heart racing, she reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, ready to call Logan.
Her hand stilled. Their interactions had been a little tense since their meeting with Carla.
Admittedly, the tension was her fault. He’d wanted to talk after Carla left, but she’d been too emotionally bruised to trust her reaction.
Deep down, she knew he’d made the right decision to wait and give their options more consideration.
But closer to the surface, where every fiber of her being ached to be a mom, she hadn’t wanted to listen to reason.
After a few more seconds of internal debate, Abby straightened, leaving her phone untouched.
She didn’t need to bother Logan; she could handle herself.
Between growing up in a rough part of Boston and being a military wife, she’d learned a self-defense technique or two.
She’d march right out the front door and demand answers.
Sucking in a breath, she stretched to her full five feet, five inches. Okay, so her petite frame wasn’t exactly formidable, but she knew the power of a swift jab to the jugular. Or an eye socket. She’d be fine.
She continued her mental pep talk all the way to the front door. With one hand on the doorknob, she rehearsed her line of interrogation. “Who are you and why have you been following me?”
Shoulders back, she threw open the door, poised and ready to confront her potential stalker.
Turns out, someone had beat her to the task.
Her eighty-nine-year-old neighbor, Verna Hoffstetter, who lived in the lavender Queen Anne Victorian across the street, chatted amicably with the stranger. Or rather, chatted at him.
Mystery Man was too preoccupied by the pudgy snout plastered to the toe of his work boot to make casual conversation.
“Oh, don’t mind him.” Verna gestured to the chubby English bulldog leaving a trail of slobber along the worn leather. “Mr. Bingley is harmless. Sniffing is how he gets to know you. Remarkably, someone’s shoes can reveal a lot about them.”
If only Bing could pass along his intel , Abby mused, observing the exchange from the front porch, so far undetected behind the large pot of begonias.
“Are you new in town?” Verna asked while Bing moved on to chewing the man’s laces. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
“Just visiting.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Um, nowhere.” He shook his foot, but the movement didn’t deter the portly pooch. Bing clamped down even harder and shot the man a disgruntled glance. “I’ve been driving into town every day from Redton.”
“Goodness! That’s a three-hour drive, at least. More if you hit traffic on the highway.” Verna shook her head, tousling her short tangerine-colored curls. “That’s quite a slog.”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugged his slim shoulders, and Abby noted how frail he looked, as if he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.
One of her hearty breakfasts would work wonders.
At the thought, a new possibility occurred to her.
What if he wasn’t interested in her at all, but simply needed a place to stay?
Maybe he’d heard she ran an inn and wanted to check things out before booking a room.
The possibility helped calm her wariness.
“What brings you to Blessings Bay?” Verna asked as if she’d read Abby’s mind.
“I don’t know, exactly. There’s just something about this place that calls to me, odd as that sounds.”
“Not odd at all! Blessings Bay has that effect on people. If you hang around long enough, you may find you never want to leave. Isn’t that right, Abby?”
Abby jumped at the sound of her name, stubbing her toe on the ceramic flowerpot. Her cheeks flaming, she stifled a whimper of pain. Who looks like a stalker now?
Verna’s pale blue eyes shimmered with bemusement, as if she’d been aware of Abby’s presence all along.
Mystery Man, however, didn’t look amused in the slightest. In fact, he looked as startled as Abby felt.
With a sheepish smile, Abby hobbled down the steps to join them. “Verna’s right. When I first arrived in Blessings Bay last December, I’d only intended to stay until the new year. Now, they couldn’t run me out of town, even if they tried,” she said lightheartedly.
The remainder of her apprehension vanished in Verna’s calming presence. Plus, in light of the man’s timidity around the squishiest and cuddliest dog in the world, it was almost comical she’d found him intimidating.
He cautiously offered his hand to Bing, who sniffed his fingers before giving them a lick. Abby made note of the pup’s approval.
“Abby also runs the best bed-and-breakfast in the area,” Verna added. “Possibly the country.”
“Verna’s my unofficial publicist.” Abby beamed at the woman who’d become her surrogate mother over the last several months. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Your place does look nice.” Mystery Man squatted to pet Bing. “Much too nice for a guy like me.” He met her gaze with a playful smile of self-deprecation, but something about his eyes struck her—something she couldn’t explain—and she couldn’t look away.
Somewhere in the depths of warm, chocolatey brown, she glimpsed a humble vulnerability, perhaps even embarrassment, as if he didn’t believe he deserved the finer things in life. What had he endured that made him feel unworthy of something as simple as boutique accommodations?
Compassion swelled in her chest. Maybe his eyes looked familiar because she recognized herself in them?
A lost soul who’d experienced a string of unfortunate events outside his control who needed help finding a new path.
She’d once been the wanderer who came to Blessings Bay in search of respite.
And she’d found so much more than that—she’d found a home, a family, and a fresh start.
Isn’t that why she’d opened the inn? To share the same blessing with others who may need a new beginning?
“Don’t be silly,” she blurted before she could think better of her impulsive idea.
“Everyone can use a little luxury every now and then. Besides, we have a special summer rate—first night free.” Okay, so it wasn’t an official promotion, but Logan would understand once she explained the situation, wouldn’t he?
“Really?” His gaze traveled beyond her to the inn, taking in its elegant features, from the gingerbread trim to the pristine white shutters. “That’s awfully generous, but even with a free night, I still don’t think I could afford to stay here.”
“Then stay the first night, at least,” Abby insisted. “If you’d like to stay longer, we can work something out.”
Mystery Man glanced at Verna, as if to gauge whether or not she’d heard the same offer.
Verna smiled. “I’d take her up on that, if I were you.”
“Okay, I guess I will, then.” Turning to Abby, he added, “That is, if you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble.”
“I’m sure.” She smiled, ignoring her simmering doubts.
What had compelled her to dismiss a very wise decision not to book any guests until after the wedding?
And how on earth would she explain her rash decision to Logan when she barely understood it herself?