Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (26 page)

Melanie and Miss Gina were washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen when Melanie received Jo’s text.

Wyatt was upstairs unpacking a small bag to hold him over. He took the room at the very top of the stairs so he could hear any comings and goings inside the inn.

Melanie thought about how much of her life had been turned upside down, and how just by knowing her, her friends were in a constant state of chaos as well.

She handed Miss Gina a wet pie pan and shoved her hands back into the water for another. “I’m sorry,” she said without preamble.

Miss Gina kept drying dishes as she spoke. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Everything. You hire me and look what happened. I’ve closed the doors of the inn, interrupted your income—”

“Stop. Just shut the hell up right now. You didn’t bring any of this on yourself.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty about how this has affected everyone around me.”

Miss Gina slammed the cupboard after placing the dish inside. “And what is that guilt doing for you? Is it solving anything? Making you sleep better at night?”

“No.”

“Then let it go. I want you and Hope here. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Miss Gina shook off her anger and placed a hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I never wanted kids because I’ve always felt I had several. You’re like a daughter to me. Don’t ever forget it.”

Her heart leapt in her throat, and she hugged Miss Gina, soapy wet hands and all. “Does this mean Hope can call you Grandma?”

“Hell no! I’m much too young to be a grandmother.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Melanie turned off lights and double-checked the doors to make sure they were locked as she passed through the downstairs of the inn. She reached the top of the stairs to find Wyatt’s door open and voices coming from inside.

When Hope started to giggle, Melanie paused.

“You can’t be Snow White,” Wyatt was telling her daughter.

“Why not?” she asked.

“First, you have the wrong hair color.”

Hope giggled.

“Second, your mom would never let you live with seven tiny men.”

“You don’t have a very good imagination,” Hope told him. “The seven dwarfs are all my mom’s friends. Like Auntie Jo is Doc . . . in charge and a little bossy. Luke is Happy. Actually, Mr. Miller is Happy, too. Auntie Zoe is . . .” Hope lowered her voice. “Grumpy. She yells when she’s cooking.”

Wyatt laughed. “Who is the queen?”

When the conversation paused, Melanie snuck a peek behind the door to find Hope snuggled up to Wyatt on his bed, their heads buried in a book. “That guy who says he’s my dad.”

Wyatt stared at Hope. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something a couple of times before anything came out. “What makes you say that?”

Hope shrugged and turned the page. “I’m a kid, but I have ears. I know he wants to take me away from here.” The sadness in her voice sliced through Melanie as she listened to their conversation.

“He might just want to get to know you.”

“Then he should come for dinner or something . . . like normal people.”

Her daughter was so smart.

Wyatt messed up Hope’s hair and pointed to the book. “Who is the huntsman?”

Hope tried to hide a yawn. “That’s your dad.”

Melanie closed her eyes and thought about her daughter’s cast of characters.

“What about the prince? The one who saves Snow White?”

“There is no prince.” Hope was adamant.

“No prince?”

“Nope . . . that’s where all these stories are messed up. Princes don’t save anyone. It’s the knight that comes to the rescue. And he doesn’t do it by kissing.” Hope made an animated face as if kissing was like eating mud. “The knight sweeps in and keeps Snow White from eating the apple and pushes the queen off the cliff before she can push Snow White.”

Melanie found herself holding her breath. That went very dark, very quickly.

“If my knight was here, he would have kept Mr. Lewis from pushing me.”

Melanie must have moved. Wyatt’s eyes snapped to her once Hope’s words sank in. She’d never once said aloud that Mr. Lewis had pushed her.

“How did Mr. Lewis push you, sweetie?”

She turned the page, unfazed by the question. “He pushed my butt with his hands.” She sighed. “Maybe Mr. Lewis is the queen, too.”

Hope snapped the book shut, gathered it with her unbroken arm, and kissed Wyatt’s cheek. “Thanks for reading me a story.”

“You did most of the reading.”

Hope smiled as she slid from the bed. “Good night.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

Melanie took a step back before Hope made it to the door. “Going to bed?” she asked Hope.

“I’m tired. Uncle Wyatt already read me a story.”

Melanie smiled at Wyatt through the door before walking her daughter to her room.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Melanie asked while she turned down the bed.

“I forgot.”

She waved her daughter toward her bathroom and went about tiding up the room. She placed the book on the shelf beside the others while the sound of water running kept her company. She knew Patrick Lewis, or whatever the hell his name was, pushed her daughter. The doctors had said she might remember . . . or she might not. Somehow, Melanie had wished Hope wouldn’t recall that moment when her trust had been broken.

As much as she wanted to shelter her daughter from all the evil in the world, it was obvious she couldn’t.

The water turned off, and Hope walked past her and jumped into bed.

Melanie painted on a smile, one she didn’t really feel, and tucked her daughter in.

“I’m glad Uncle Wyatt is here.”

“I am, too.”

Hope placed her arm on a pillow. “Mommy?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“If the queen comes again . . . I’m going to push her down the hill first.”

What was she supposed to say to that? “I think you’ll have to get in line. You have a lot of dwarfs who want to push her for you.”

Melanie kissed her daughter and left the room, leaving the door open.

Wyatt waited outside in the hall. “You heard all that, right?”

She nodded toward the stairs to lead the conversation away from Hope’s room.

As soon as they rounded the stairs and Wyatt turned on the lights in the sitting room, Melanie let him gather her into his arms.

“She’s going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair.

“Her fairy tales are littered with black clouds. I hate that he did that to her.”

“None of this is right.”

The weight of Wyatt’s arms around her grounded the world. “We should call Jo, let her know what Hope said.”

“We all knew the man pushed her.”

She moaned and Wyatt leaned back to look down.

“We’ll call Jo in the morning. I’d hate to wake the woman if she found time to sleep.”

Melanie agreed with a nod.

Wyatt ran his fingertips down the side of her face. “Hope isn’t the only one with dark clouds in her fairy tales.”

“I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

“Oh, really?”

She shook her head. “Magical kisses and princes who save the day? Doesn’t happen.”

There was a twinkle in Wyatt’s eyes. “What about the knight?”

She paused.

“You mean the man who offers to put his responsibilities aside to protect the princess?”

“Yeah, him . . . do you believe in him?”

He was fishing.

And Melanie needed to laugh.

“No, he doesn’t exist either.”

Wyatt pretended shock by placing a hand over his heart.

“Oh, you mean you?” She grinned.

Wyatt reached around and pinched her ass.

She squealed and hopped away from his hand.

“I’ll get you for that.”

She scrambled around the couch and put several feet between them. “Have to catch me first.”

He bent his knees and acted as if he could hurdle over the couch, then darted right and chased her around the sofa. She caught herself squealing and muffled the sound.

“Are you ticklish, Mel?”

She did a little hop, step, jog over a cord to avoid toppling a lamp.

“I’ll never tell.” She placed a high-back chair between them and used it as a shield to keep him from grabbing her. Problem was, she was literally cornered. Distraction would be the key to getting away.

“Now where you gonna go?”

“I have superpowers,” she told him.

“Oh?”

She stopped pretending like she was going to run and brought both hands to the top button on her shirt.

Wyatt’s eyes were drawn to her chest, and he paused.

After releasing one button, she teased the top of her breast with the back of her index finger.

Then she ran from behind the chair to the right. She made it three feet before Wyatt’s arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers dancing over her, making her giggle.

“You are ticklish!”

“No I’m n—” He found a spot under her arm and had her doubling over.

She tried to twist away, but his grip wouldn’t let her go. Wyatt relented the tickle attack and lifted her off her feet. When he set her down, her back met the sofa and he was on top of her, pinning both her arms with one of his hands.

And the tickling continued.

“Oh, my . . . Wyatt, I’m warning you . . .”

He didn’t stop. “What are you going to do?”

She attempted to buck him off. He didn’t budge.

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”

Wyatt sighed and eased up his efforts.

And Melanie was smiling. It felt so good to laugh and forget, even for a few minutes.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he whispered.

“Says the man with dimples.”

He flashed them and Melanie felt her entire body relax. When Wyatt released her hands, she lifted one to his face and brought it closer to hers.

The taste of him was becoming familiar, the feel of him missed when he wasn’t beside her. The need for him, in these quiet moments that didn’t happen often enough, was something Melanie was finding hard to live without.

Wyatt kept his full weight off of her as he sank deeper into the kiss. His tongue darted around hers until he found the spot he wanted to explore longer. There was no hurry in his pursuit as he heated her body from the inside out.

Melanie wiggled one of her legs out from under his and wrapped him close.

The fully clothed, full-on make out session on the couch hadn’t been something Melanie had experienced in over a decade. Although the weight of Wyatt’s erection teased her, he made no move to remove her clothes. He kissed her breathless, then moved to tease her ear and neck with his tongue.

She, however, didn’t have the same restraint. The space between his shirt and his jeans became her playground. The edges of her fingernails ran up and down his back, the motion of her hips providing some contact.

Melanie forced her lips away from a never-ending kiss. “I need you inside me.”

Instead of saying anything, he pushed into her, captured her lips, and didn’t let her breathe.

The constant pressure on her core, the movement of his hips, was doing the job. The beat of her heart sped with his against her chest, the angle of his hips shifted and pressed closer. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough to taste the edges of an orgasm.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” he hushed her, rode her fully clothed, and she came.

Her frame trembled and her mind went blank.

Wyatt released her then, pulling her to her feet. “C’mon,” he said against her hair. “I’m not done yet.”

“That was crazy,” she managed once they were in his room, the door closed.

“And fun,” he said as he pulled his shirt from his shoulders.

She leaned against the door and watched him undress. His confidence in his nudity was absolute.

Once he kicked the last of his clothing free, he stood tall, a cocky smile on his face. “What are you waiting for, woman?”

Good question.

Wyatt used his time staying at the inn to map out the project Miss Gina planned. What started out as a space for her was starting to look more and more like a guest house to accommodate Melanie and Hope.

When he questioned the woman, she just shrugged and told him something else she wanted the place to have. Two bathrooms, maybe a kitchen after all.

“You’re suggesting I build a second house.”

“You can do it, can’t ya?”

He lifted his hands to the large home behind them. “You already have a big house.”

She waved him off and walked inside.

Wyatt moved on with the project, happy with the distraction.

Melanie was in the kitchen, determined to master a few meals with the aid of a microwave, she told him. The fact that she was on the phone with Zoe while doing so made him laugh.

Hope had moped around the backyard for a good hour, complaining about being bored and the itch inside her cast. It didn’t help that it was in the high eighties with a fair amount of humidity usually reserved for the South.

He thought he heard the sound of a car on the gravel, and was confirmed when Melanie poked her head out the back door. “I think it’s your dad,” she told him.

“I’ll be right there.”

He left his notepad on an outside table, wiped his feet, and walked through the main hall of the house right as Hope was running down the stairs.

“Careful. You don’t want to break your other arm.”

She laughed as she fled through the front door.

Melanie’s gaze was fixed and a little troubled.

Hope screamed, laughed, and screamed again.

When Wyatt looked to see what the fuss was about, he stared.

“For me?” Hope yelled as she ran down the steps of the inn.

“Well he isn’t for me.” William opened the back door of his rental car and out ran a four-legged, panting bundle of energy that pounced on Hope with oversize paws and a pink tongue.

Hope attempted to avoid some of the puppy saliva by turning her head. It didn’t work.

“He didn’t,” Melanie muttered under her breath.

“Looks like he did.”

“Can I keep him, Mommy? Can I?”

The screen door opened and Miss Gina’s voice followed. “Well look at that.”

Hope giggled and fell on her butt, which gave the yellow Labrador puppy the platform he needed to lick every inch of Hope’s body.

“William!” Melanie said his name with a warning.

William flashed the same dimples Wyatt saw every day in the mirror and Melanie sighed.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“I might have to kill you.” Because watching the shadows lift from Hope’s eyes when the puppy barked, licked, and came back for more wasn’t something Mel would make go away, and Wyatt knew it.

Miss Gina sat on the edge of the top step. “What are you gonna name him, Hope?”

The puppy took notice of Miss Gina sitting at his level and bounded up the steps and into her space.