INN to You Read online

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  INN TO YOU

  Copyright © 2022 Laura Dunbar

  L.B. Dunbar Writes, Ltd.

  https://www.lbdunbar.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Cover Design: Outlined With Love/Tash Drake

  Editor: Editing4Indies

  Proofreader: Gemma Brocato

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by L.B. Dunbar

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Dip a toe into Living at 40

  More by L.B. Dunbar

  About the Author

  Connect with L.B. Dunbar

  Other Books by L.B. Dunbar

  Road Trips & Romance

  Hauling Ashe

  Merging Wright

  Rhode Trip

  Lakeside Cottage

  Living at 40

  Loving at 40

  Learning at 40

  Letting Go at 40

  The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

  Silver Brewer

  Silver Player

  Silver Mayor

  Silver Biker

  Silver Fox Former Rock Stars

  After Care

  Midlife Crisis

  Restored Dreams

  Second Chance

  Wine&Dine

  Collision novellas

  Collide

  Caught

  Smartypants Romance (an imprint of Penny Reid)

  Love in Due Time

  Love in Deed

  Love in a Pickle

  The World of True North (an imprint of Sarina Bowen)

  Cowboy

  Studfinder

  Rom-com for the over 40

  The Sex Education of M.E.

  The Heart Collection

  Speak from the Heart

  Read with your Heart

  Look with your Heart

  Fight from the Heart

  View with your Heart

  A Heart Collection Spin-off

  The Heart Remembers

  THE EARLY YEARS

  The Legendary Rock Star Series

  The Legend of Arturo King

  The Story of Lansing Lotte

  The Quest of Perkins Vale

  The Truth of Tristan Lyons

  The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

  Paradise Stories

  Abel

  Cain

  The Island Duet

  Redemption Island

  Return to the Island

  Modern Descendants – writing as elda lore

  Hades

  Solis

  Heph

  Dedication

  For Willow – because she asked me and no one ever does.

  And Tash Drake – rest in peace, creative girl.

  And a song that inspired the rest of the story:

  “My Boy” – Elvie Shane

  1

  [Noah]

  If someone told me I’d be stuck in a storage closet of sorts, sitting on a closed toilet lid, facing the most ridiculous woman, while she stands before me in a rather compromising position, I’d never believe him.

  I, Noah Weller, was better than this.

  But still my gaze remains fixated on her hips before roaming to the tops of her legs where her inner thighs kiss right there. I can’t look upward as the next thing I’ll see are two of the most luscious breasts, round, supple, and mouthwatering.

  Damn, I need to get laid.

  Only, not with her.

  Tessa Brogan is infuriating, and it’s all her fault we’re stuck in here.

  I’d been wandering down the second floor of Bluebird Hollow Inn when I’d noticed a door slightly ajar. At first glance, the inside of the tight area looked like a restroom, complete with the smallest sink I’d ever seen and a toilet, and not much more space. However, the room also contained supplies. An eclectic mix of cleaning supplies and paper products stashed around the toilet and stored on open shelves above it.

  The closet slash restroom also contained Tessa. Wine-red hair, freckle-smattered face, lake-blue-eyed Tessa, wearing snug leggings and a short shirt that exposed her waist. She’s in her late thirties but dresses like a teenager. She also has the body to pull it off with the ripest ass and curvy hips.

  “This will not do.” When I stepped into the area smaller than a two-person shower, the dimensions were even tighter than I suspected, especially when my entrance pressed my front against Tessa’s aforementioned backside. She stood upright immediately from her bent-over position, where she was seeking something tucked beside the toilet. At the same time, I pulled the doorknob to close us off from voices I heard traveling down the long hallway.

  That was when the doorknob fell off into my hand.

  “Fuck.” Tessa spun to face me. Her hip dragged over the center of my zipper region, and my dick has a mind of its own around this woman—mainly wanting to be at full mast.

  “What?” she’d asked in her smoky tone. “Whatcha do now?”

  “Me?” I raised the doorknob, waving the golden bulb close to her nose. “This is all you.”

  The Bluebird Hollow Inn has character and charm. The place is reminiscent of older times when people of wealth wanted extended stays in the summer months near Lake Michigan.

  The place also needs some serious updates and an overhaul on management.

  That’s where I come in.

  I’d worked for an elite hotel in downtown Chicago. The Magellen was forty-six glorious floors overlooking the splendor of the lake, and I’d been there for fourteen years. When I left them, I had every intention of working for another place of grandeur, someplace delightfully warm and tropical.

  For now, I am reduced to this.

  Three stories of an antiquated inn, family-owned and operated since the beginning of who cares when and currently run by this infuriating woman who hired me but won’t listen to a single suggestion.

  “Call maintenance,” I demand.

  I’m on my third day here, and I’ve spent the first two wandering the building and grounds. My notes are copious. The antiquity of this inn is beyond belief. I’m used to sleek and shiny. Flashy and bold. Clean white lines and gleaming chrome accents. Contemporary, comfortable, and full of amenities. This place is everything opposite. The windows don’t allow much light as the height of the trees original to the forested bluff shadow the building. The interior also includes dark hardwood floors and dark trim and just dark, dark, dark . . .

  “We might have a problem with that,” the feisty spitfire before me mutters, hinting there is more trouble ahead.

  “What now?” I’d found fault in drafty windows and leaky faucets. The kitchen needs a major overhaul despite Tessa’s admission the space is rarely used. This respite no longer houses a formal restaurant. The original ballroom, once allotted for weddings and parties, hasn’t held dancers or diners in years.

  Tessa lifts her phone. “I’m maintenance.”

  “Fuck. You’re kidding me, right?” Please be joking.

  When I came upon this woman three days ago, she was casually eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sans the jelly, which was an argument in and of itself. Just call it a damn peanut butter sandwich! So there she sat, casual as a summer day, thinking I was checking in. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. Thick-rimmed glasses sat on her pert nose. Papers were spread everywhere on the check-in desk.

  “Check-in isn’t until three,” she’d told me.

  “I’m here for the interview.”

  Her head tilted like she hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.

  I’d stuck out a hand and introduced myself while offering her my best smile. The one that typically calmed ornery personalities and didn’t do too bad at making ladies drop their undies.

  She didn’t offer a hand in return. Instead, she stared at me with wide blue eyes the color of that damn lake and a rosy, lush mouth agape with a smudge of peanut butter on the corner. When my eyes landed there, her tongue swiped it clean, and instantly, I was hard.

  “I’m here to see Tessa Brogan.”

  She’d blinked. Blinked again. She brushed her hands together and slowly stood from the stool she’d been sitting on. Then she laid into me with a string of I told him we didn’t need anyone and Why can’t he just let me do this for myself? and I can’t believe this bullshit.

  She didn’t ask me any questions.
br />   Regardless, I handed her a résumé before admitting out loud my decision to pursue the manager position might have been a huge mistake. I needed this job, and from the looks of the lobby, she needed me.

  One glance at the paper before her, and she slid the trash bin forward with her foot before slipping the résumé into the garbage.

  “Filing system.” She smirked. Then her shoulders fell. “Guess it doesn’t matter what I want. The position includes a room. The salary isn’t anywhere near what you might have made before. Take it or leave it.”

  I took it, minus the room, and she has made me regret every second so far.

  Present conundrum included.

  At first, we’d stood face-to-face, breaths blending, bodies plastered together in this tight space.

  Then she sat with a hard thump on the closed toilet seat.

  The position wasn’t any better as her eyes were level with my junk, and my body was not under control with her proximity.

  She stood again and forced us to rotate, so now I am seated on the closed toilet seat, and her sweet spot is at my eye level. My legs are bent, knees practically touching the wall opposite where I sit, and Tessa is standing between my spread thighs.

  “This is ridiculous,” I mutter.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she mumbles, crossing her arms. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Well, perhaps you should have tightened the doorknobs.” Along with a mighty list of other things needing repair at this place.

  “No, I mean, you, actually. I don’t want you here in my inn.” The words are said in utter frustration, and in some manner, I agree with her.

  I don’t want to be here either. Not in a million years could I have anticipated what had happened last summer. Never had I been more shocked or disappointed or…hurt. What the Magellen owners did to me was a blow to the ego, but I’d never admit that to anyone.

  However, Tessa’s admission that she doesn’t want me here surprisingly stings a little. Like a tiny pinprick pinch but still enough like a papercut caught underwater that makes you hiss.

  “You need help.” Shaking my head, I exhale. She needs me. And a minute piece of me knows I need her…er, this job. While I have monetary savings, I’m too young to retire at forty-five. I’m too spry to sit still. An inn wasn’t exactly what I had in mind after the Magellen, but lost men can’t be choosers. That isn’t the saying, but I’m not a beggar. I am, however, a bit adrift.

  Tessa huffs, and crossed her arms, forcing those perfect tits to perch higher. My hands fist on my thighs, fingers squeezing to prevent me from reaching out for her hips. I’d tug her close, breath against that seam between her thighs, and nuzzle my nose there. I bet she smells like honey and . . .

  What the hell am I thinking?

  “Look.” I spin as best as I can on the porcelain throne. “Is there a screwdriver in here? Something to help us pop this back into place.” With the doorknob in my hand, the post attached to the exterior knob fell outward into the hall. We should be banging on the door, only we haven’t heard a single voice in eons. This portion of the inn isn’t occupied.

  Plus, we don’t need patrons to presume there is a problem.

  Tessa doesn’t move as I twist to my right, hoping to find something in the mess of supplies that should be stored elsewhere than this facility. It’s not only a sanitation issue. It’s just ridiculous.

  When I shift back to Tessa, glancing up at her, her lids are lowered, her arms still crossed. A single tear slips down her nose.

  Shit.

  “Hey,” I murmur, shoulders falling.

  She shakes her head and swipes at the errant drop. Although it isn’t polite to stare, I can’t take my eyes off her. Despite her feisty personality and the unspoken evidence that she doesn’t like me, she’s a fucking knockout. Even with those studious, black-rimmed glasses, which she slips a finger underneath to wipe away another tear.

  Without thought, I reach for her hips and gently jostle her. “Hey, it’s okay. I mean, we won’t be stuck in here forever, right? If we are, at least, we have water and toilet facilities and about twenty-seven pounds of toilet paper which we could slip under the door as a distress note.”

  “I’m in over my head,” she whispers.

  My hands are still on her hips, palms flat and sweaty while I squeeze her defined bones. My body vibrates with the desire to pull her onto my lap and hold her. She’s strong-willed, stubborn even, but determination and confidence are not always bedfellows.

  And tears are not what I’d expect of her.

  “It’s okay to admit you need help.” The advice isn’t something I’d give myself personally, but it sounds encouraging.

  She shakes her head. “You’re such an ass.” Her voice softens, and she swallows a bitter chuckle as she insults me.

  “How does that make me an ass?” The offense in my tone is clear.

  “Have you never wanted anything for yourself? Something that proves you’re more than they think you are?”

  “Who’re they?”

  “Oh, forget it.” Her hands swipe outward, and I have to lean back so she doesn’t smack me in the nose. Only I hit my head on the low-hanging shelf behind the toilet.

  The edge hits me just right in the back of the skull, and my eyes burn. “Fuck.”

  “Shit.” She hisses and cups the sides of my head, tugging my noggin forward. The crown of my head rests between her breasts as she inspects the back. My eyes close. Isn’t this how every man wants to die? Okay, buried inside her might be even better, but resting between her firm tits would be a nice consolation prize. Still heaven. Well, purgatory, at least.

  “You’ll live.” She gently shoves me away from her just when I’m about to nuzzle between those perfect swells.

  Goddamn, I’m a mess near her.

  Her hands remain on the side of my head, pressing over my ears before they slowly retreat to my jaw. The soft heat of her palms seeps through the scruff I’ve started to sport. I glance upward.

  Big mistake.

  Those lake-blue eyes staring back at me, still glisten with moisture. Her gaze lowers to my mouth, and I lick my lips.

  Maybe she needs to get laid as well. A little snogging in room twelve, and we’d both feel better.

  Her warm hand curls under my chin, taking its time to glide over the stubble rasping against her palm. Her scent invades my nose. She has a meadowy fragrance mixed with something sweet, like honey. I can almost taste her on my tongue. Sticky. Sugary. Pure delicious bliss.

  I bite the corner of my lip, and her gaze follows the motion. Her throat rolls.

  “I didn’t answer your question.” My voice is rugged but quiet.

  “I don’t remember what I asked.” Her smoky tone is just as rough.

  “If there was anything I ever wanted for myself.” The clause hangs between us. I thought I had everything I wanted. A condo in downtown Chicago. A job where I rubbed elbows with the rich and famous. A company I was convinced would stand behind me until I could retire. And amongst all of that, I was getting laid on the regular.

  But glancing up at Tessa, I’m no longer certain I ever had something that was truly mine. Or someone, for that matter.

  The sound of metal zipping against metal breaks our staring contest. The teeth of the post whizzes through the small opening in the handle facet. A swift turn and the door pops free from closure. The sudden opening is like letting helium out of a balloon. The sexual tension between Tessa and I quickly dissipates. She flinches, bumping into the wall behind her because of the tight space.

  “Hey.” Manny glances back and forth between Tessa and me. “Should I give you another minute, boss?” His eyes drop to my lap and then quickly avert. I press the heel of my hand to the seam of my pants. There’s no way to lessen the ache or quell the thickness jutting upward in these casual dress pants. Well, there is a way, and a bathroom is a good location, but still . . .

  “He doesn’t need a minute,” Tessa states, squeezing past Manny through the now open door and rushing into the hall. “And I’m the boss.” She reminds the man who’s been doing odds and ends jobs around the place, charging her a small fortune for each project. I thought Manny was maintenance.