The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley Book 5) Read online

  There was a new house being built down by the river but I knew the owners. Other than that, all of the new construction was outside of town in the mountain foothills. Those lots were huge and predominantly bought by outsiders wanting a “cabin” in Montana—cabins that were, at a minimum, twenty times the size of my loft.

  As far as I knew, there were only three homes in the foothills currently in progress with Jamison Valley Construction. If Hunter’s was the place I was thinking about, he had money. A lot of money, something I’d already suspected. It had been pretty hard not to notice the Rolex he’d forgotten by the bathroom sink or the cashmere sweaters in his closet when I’d been cleaning his room.

  The money didn’t bother me, though, especially since Hunter seemed so down-to-earth and modest. He seemed like the type of man who would downplay his wealth just to make sure he didn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable. Most of the well-off men I’d met had always made a point to flaunt their wealth. Coby’s father had been a doctor and he’d always made sure to drop hints about his fortune.

  Don’t go there.

  I shook off thoughts of Coby’s father and focused on Hunter and Michael’s discussion.

  “Are you a photographer?” Michael asked.

  Hunter smiled at me, then looked back to Michael and said, “No, I’m a—”

  “Mommy!”

  Coby was shoving open the lobby door with Mom trailing close behind.

  “Hey!” I stepped around the corner and bent low to give him a hug. “How was your date with Nana?” Every Wednesday night, Mom had a special dinner date with Coby at the café, just the two of them.

  “I got ice cream!”

  “Yummy. Did you bring me some too?”

  His eyes got wide with worry as he turned back to Mom. “Nana, we forgot Mommy’s ice cream.” His words got jumbled in his panic and “forgot” came out more like “fwor-got” and “Mommy’s” was a rushed “Mi’s.”

  “It’s okay, buddy.” I stood up and ruffled his hair. “I have to eat some dinner first anyway. What did you guys have?”

  “Cheeseburgers!” he and Mom shouted together. They always had cheeseburgers.

  Coby’s smile turned shy as he looked around and noticed a stranger in the room. Mom noticed Hunter too, but instead of getting shy, she gave his backside a full head-to-toe assessment, then turned her eyes to me and mouthed, “Wow.”

  I rolled my eyes and started introductions, hoping that Mom would stop fanning herself soon. “Mom, this is Hunter. He’s a guest here. Hunter, this is my mother, Marissa. You might see her from time to time because she helps in the office when I’m busy.”

  He turned and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” Mom said without letting go of his hand. “Oh, you’re a photographer!”

  “Actually, I’m—”

  “You should take pictures for the rooms!” she interrupted, still holding onto his hand.

  “Mom, let him go.”

  “Whoopsie.” She pretended to be embarrassed but she was still holding his hand.

  “Mom, his hand?”

  Reluctantly, she released him. “Sorry. Anyway, like I was saying. You should take pictures for the rooms. Maisy, tell him your idea.”

  I pursed my lips and gave her my best “butt out” look but she ignored me completely.

  “Tell him your idea.”

  Hunter’s eyes were waiting when I turned back his way. “Idea for what?”

  “The artwork in the rooms. Right now, I have standard, cheap hotel art—obviously, you know that since you have a room. Anyway, I’ve been remodeling all the rooms for the last few years but haven’t invested in art yet because I want to commission something special. I was thinking of doing a collection of photographs from places in town and the surrounding area and then having each room be different.”

  “Tell him the postcard part,” Michael said before Hunter could comment.

  I gave my brother the same “butt out” look—which also went ignored—and looked back to Hunter. “I thought I’d make postcards that correspond to each room’s art, and guests would get one when they checked in. They could send them to family members or collect them from various stays. Whatever they want. I just thought it would be something unique.”

  Explaining the idea out loud always bothered me. Everyone loved my postcard idea, but I’d always wavered. Some days I thought it was a stroke of genius. Other days I thought it was lame and dorky. Since I really didn’t want Hunter to think I was a dork, I bit my bottom lip as I waited for his response.

  “I like it,” Hunter said. “The whole thing sounds like a nice touch. The pictures and the postcards. I think people would really like it and it’s different from what you’d see in any commercial hotel.”

  My lip dropped out of my teeth. “You really think so?”

  His face broke into a breathtaking, wide smile, showcasing his perfectly straight white teeth. “Really.”

  I was so doing those postcards.

  “Excellent!” Mom clapped. “Then you’ll take the pictures?”

  “Mom!” I scolded at the same time Hunter shook his head.

  “Oh, I’m not a professional. This is just an amateur hobby.” He looked to me. “You probably want someone with talent.”

  “Oh, pish posh,” Mom said. “This could be a chance for you to refine your craft. How about this? You take some pictures and show them to Maisy. If she likes them, she’ll buy them. If she doesn’t, you’ll have had a chance to practice.”

  “Mom, you’re being pushy.” I looked to Hunter. “I’m so sorry.”

  He chuckled. “It’s fine.”

  “Then you’ll do it?” Mom said, completely misinterpreting him.

  “I, uh, don’t really know the area. I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”

  “That’s okay. Maisy can show you around. Please, say yes? We’ve all been so anxious to see her rooms finally finished and she’s worked so hard. To see that old artwork in those rooms, it just breaks my heart. She deserves to have them finished just right.”

  “Mother,” I muttered at the same time Michael said, “A little too thick there, Mom.”

  Hunter looked to me and I shrugged. There was no arguing with my mother in the room, not when she was set on railroading Hunter and I together. Was this how Gigi had felt when I’d played matchmaker with her and Jess? If so, I was calling her the minute I got to the loft and apologizing.

  “Come on, what do you say? Please?” Mom begged.

  “I can’t promise they’ll be any good,” Hunter warned.

  “Yay!” Mom cheered. “This will be wonderful.”

  Before I could tell Hunter we could discuss the details later—and give him a chance to back out—Coby tugged on my leg. “Mommy, can I go play with Pickle now?”

  My eyes dropped to Coby who was talking to me but looking at Hunter. Coby was normally a loud and energetic little boy, but with strangers around, he was shy. He must have been warming up to Hunter if he felt comfortable enough to speak up.

  “Sure, buddy. One more minute.” I looked back up to Hunter. “This is Coby, my son.”

  “Hey, Coby.” Hunter crouched down in front of us. “Nice to meet you.”

  I watched Hunter’s face carefully as he spoke to Coby. The last time Hunter had seen my son was when we’d passed him by the vending machines. At the time, he’d given Coby an odd look, but now, Hunter’s face was nothing but gentle and kind. Maybe he wasn’t intimidated by my single-mother status after all.

  “Can you tell me where you got that shirt?” Hunter asked. “Batman is my favorite too. Maybe the store has one in my size.”

  Coby let go of my leg and puffed out his Batman-covered chest. “The package man gave this to me.”

  The mailman was getting credit? No way! “Coby, I bought you that shirt. The mailman delivered it, but that was a gift from me.” Coby was convinced that the mailman was his biggest fan and the person behind every delivered present from Amaz
on.

  Coby frowned up at me, then turned back to Hunter. “You could ask the package man to bring you one too. He’s really nice and good at giving presents.”

  “I can’t win,” I mumbled.

  Hunter chuckled and stood. “Sounds like a good idea. I’d better hit the road. Thanks again for dinner.” He said good-bye to Michael and Mom and walked to the door.

  “Wait,” Mom called before he could escape. “When are you guys going to start on the pictures?”

  “She’s nothing if not persistent,” Michael mumbled at my side.

  He had that right. Mom wasn’t going to let Hunter out of her sight until this agreement was locked down tight and we had a firm date set.

  “I’m free Sunday, if that works,” Hunter said.

  I nodded, more excited for a Sunday afternoon than I had been in years. “Works for me.”

  “Perfect!” Mom said. “I’ll come over right after church and watch Coby. You two can get a late lunch, then head out.”

  “Okay. See you Sunday.” He grinned at me before pulling the lobby door closed behind him.

  I kept the smile on my face until I knew he was out of earshot and then I glared at Mom. “Thanks for that.”

  “You are so welcome, sweetheart.” She started fanning herself again, oblivious to my sarcasm. “He is dreamy.”

  She had that right. As over the top as she’d been, I couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing Hunter on Sunday.

  Maybe he’d even take me up on my dinner invitation before then. I had an upcoming date with Warren Adams at a fancy restaurant and I couldn’t conjure an ounce of excitement, but the idea that Hunter might come up to the loft for a humble supper at my tiny table had me practically giddy.

  Coby tugged on my hand. “Mommy, let’s go.”

  “You got it, bud. Let me get locked up.” I shut down my computer and locked the lobby door, hanging up my sign. “You guys are coming up, right?” I asked Mom and Michael. They both nodded and we all followed Coby up the stairs.

  The second we walked into the loft, I cringed. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t cleaned before inviting Mom upstairs.

  I worked tirelessly to keep the motel spotless but sometimes ran out of steam before I could clean the loft. Mom didn’t care if it was messy, but she also couldn’t stop herself from picking up. She did so much for me already, between watching Coby and helping at the motel, I hated for her to clean my home too.

  Just as I’d predicted, she walked in and got right to work as Coby sprinted past us to go to Pickle’s crate by the back door.

  “Mom, you don’t need to do that,” I said as she tidied the pile of shoes by the door.

  “I don’t mind.” With the shoes arranged, she went right into the living room to fluff the pillows on my charcoal corduroy sectional, which divided the living room from the kitchen on the left. When she started putting toys back into their tan baskets underneath my entertainment center, I hustled to tidy the kitchen before she could beat me to it.

  Thankfully, my kitchen was about the size of a thimble so it took me just a few minutes to wipe crumbs off the Formica countertops and load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

  “I’ll take that washcloth,” Mom said and swiped it from the sink. Then she went to my small, four-seater, circular table off the living room and commenced wiping.

  “Mom, I will clean up later. Just leave it.”

  She kept wiping. “This will take just a minute. You’ve got so much on your plate, let your mother clean. It’s important to me.”

  I sighed. “All right.”

  Mom had told me once that helping her kids was her purpose in life. She had forgone a career to stay at home when we were younger, and now that Beau, Michael and I were grown, I think she felt a bit lost at times. We still needed her, me and Coby especially, but it was different than the chaos and constant buzz of having three kids in her home.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Michael, who was poking around my fridge.

  Despite my protest, Mom wouldn’t stop cleaning and I couldn’t let her do all the work herself. I walked past the living room and down the hallway to the only bathroom in the loft. Picking up a towel from the linoleum floor, I used it to wipe Coby’s blue toothpaste off the sink. Then I went to my room and swiped clothes from the floor, shoving them in the stackable washer in my bedroom closet. With my room presentable, I walked across the hall to Coby’s room to quickly make his bed and put away the toys he’d pulled out this morning before daycare.

  It wasn’t clean clean, but it was an improvement and enough to get Mom to relax and just visit for a while.

  On my way back to the living room, my eyes drifted out the window that overlooked the parking lot. They drifted to that window a lot these days, looking for any sign of Hunter. As expected, his truck was gone but that didn’t keep me from checking anyway. I was becoming addicted to the rush in my heart and the flutter in my stomach any time I caught a glance of the man who had intrigued me so.

  It had been a long time since I’d felt this way about a man. Not since Everett. Maybe it was a sign that I was finally ready to move on, to commit to a real relationship, not just date casually when forced by my friends. Maybe it was a sign that I was ready to let go of the fears Everett had instilled.

  I just hoped that for my next relationship, I wouldn’t pick such a bad apple. That I wouldn’t pick someone so full of poison.

  Hunter

  Pulling back into the motel, I glanced up at Maisy’s loft, hoping to see her in the window. Her lights were out, no surprise since it was past eleven, but I checked that window every night regardless of the time.

  Most men would steer clear of a woman who had kneed them in the balls. Normally, a man would send that woman as far away from him as she could get. Instead, I had become desperate for any chance to be near her, even if that meant just looking at her home and knowing she was inside.

  Which meant I was fucked.

  I’d had the perfect excuse to cut my stay at The Bitterroot Inn short. Having the owner assault your manhood was a justifiable excuse to cancel a reservation, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to pack my bags.

  Maisy Holt was under my skin.

  Hell, I’d almost kissed her today.

  I’d been in Prescott for less than a week and she was all I could think about. I’d stare at her loft window each night, wondering what she was doing and praying that she wasn’t with another man. Luckily, she didn’t seem like the type to bring random men around her son.

  Coby Holt didn’t know how lucky he was to have Maisy as his mother.

  Or Marissa as his grandmother.

  Grinning as I walked from my truck to my room, I replayed Marissa’s blatant setup. Her insistence had been unnecessary. The second she’d mentioned me taking those pictures, I’d wanted that job so badly it had been nearly impossible to pretend to resist.

  I wasn’t doing the job for the photographs. I wanted it for the time spent with Maisy.

  This was the perfect opportunity to get to know her before I left. The chance for me to do something special, just for her. This would give me time to memorize her smiling face before she learned the truth and never smiled at me again.

  Maisy

  “Are you sure this is how you want to be spending your Friday off?” I asked Gigi.

  She was on the other side of the bed I was making, tucking the white sheet under the mattress’s corner.

  “I’m sure.” She smoothed out the cotton. “We haven’t had much time with just the two of us lately.”

  Between the kids, friends and work, I couldn’t remember the last time Gigi and I had done something alone. “True story. But we could plan something special instead, like a lunch date or afternoon pedicures. Do you really want to spend the day helping me clean and do laundry?”

  “Yep. I miss working with you, so today, we’ll work together.”

  I smiled and whipped the comforter onto the bed. “I miss working with you t
oo.”

  Years ago, I’d been a nurse at Jamison Valley Hospital with Gigi. We’d met on her first day of work and instantly hit it off. But after everything that had happened that year, after that horrific night, I’d quit my job and given up my nursing career.

  “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Always.”

  Gigi stopped straightening the comforter and shook her head. “I had a nightmare about it the other night. About . . . you know.”

  Yeah, I knew.

  “I haven’t had a dream like that in years,” she continued. “It kind of messed with me. Does that ever happen to you?”

  I nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” There was a hesitation in her voice.

  Gigi and I hadn’t spoken about that time much. Instead of hashing it out together, she’d confided in Jess and I’d seen a therapist for a while. It had been traumatic, for both of us, and instead of dwelling on the bad memories, we’d chosen to make the best of it and move on. We even held a party each year to mark the anniversary of our kidnapping. But after all this time, the pain from that night was still fresh. The bad memories I tried to trap in a bottle kept leaking out.

  Maybe it was time to open the lid and empty the bottle dry.

  I walked around to the foot of the bed and sank down on the mattress. “I don’t have nightmares but I have these weird flashes sometimes. Like déjà vu, but worse. They’re more real. I don’t know how to describe them without sounding like a crazy person.”

  Gigi sat by my side. “You’re not a crazy person.”

  I shrugged. “I try not to think about it at all. It’s too easy to go back to the dark place, but lately it seems to be popping into my head more. I don’t like to talk about it, but maybe we should.”

  Gigi reached out to hold my hand. “We don’t have to.”

  “No, maybe it will help. But will you go first? Tell me what your dream was about.”

  She squeezed my hand and took a deep breath. “It was just like reliving it all over again. I was at the farmhouse and Everett showed up and took me. Then I woke up in the hospital basement and he brought you in. From there, everything went in slow motion. The fight. The scalpel. The blood.” She shuddered. “I can still hear the rattle of that pill bottle.”