Mistletoe in Maine (3 page)

“And this is Beth Moore,” Velma said, casting the woman an appreciative eye. “An
old friend
of your father’s.”

Daniel blinked hard. It was all sinking in. Hey, whoa. This Beth wasn’t here with the hippie dude. Hippie dude was here with his grandmother! And Beth was here for what…? He eyed his matchmaking grandmother, who’d been bent on his dad getting remarried for some time now. With Paul’s plans to close the inn, maybe she figured things were in a state of emergency. She didn’t want her Pauly leaving Maine any more than Daniel did. Daniel hoped he hadn’t done the wrong thing in advising his grandma of his dad’s plans. He’d expected her to be upset, try to talk his dad out of it, maybe. He never guessed she’d show up here with some hot babe in tow!

Suddenly, a huge commotion erupted outside. There was a screeching sound, the squealing of brakes, and then the horrific noise made by metal crunching.

“What was
that
?” Beth cried with alarm.

Paul grabbed his coat off the rack. “I’d better go and see.”

Paul trudged through the snow toward the large SUV turned sideways in a parking space. Twisted metal protruded from beneath its front bumper.

A pretty brunette lowered her window with a worried look. “What did I hit?” she asked with a grimace. Despite her downcast expression, Paul couldn’t help but be struck by her beauty. She had large dark eyes and long dark lashes to match.

“Only my dog sled,” he said in an effort to reassure her. Rather than relieved, she appeared horrified, her lightly flushed cheeks taking on a brighter hue.

“Oh my God, I killed your dog!” she cried with a gasp. She gaped at him in horror. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t see—”

“Not my dog, lady. I just had a couple of—”

“Two? I hit
two
?” She hunkered forward over the wheel. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

Beyond her, Paul spied two kids in the SUV. The boy beside her seemed to be in his early teenage years; the girl in the back was a bit younger. “Whoa, now, just calm down. It’s not nearly as bad as you think!”

The kids exchanged glances, then sprang from the vehicle to survey the scene, while the woman tried to stop them. The boy stood, arms akimbo, goggling at the mutilated mess. His sister was beside him. “Wow, what was it?”

 “Kids! Don’t look!” the woman cried, also leaping from the SUV.

“Was it a moose?” the girl asked Paul with alarm. She looked identical to her mother, only pint-size, with two neatly braided pigtails poking out of her cap. Her panicked gaze locked on his. “She killed our Christmas moose!”

Paul heaved a breath and took in their expectant faces. “You must be the Baker family.”

They stared at him numbly as the SUV’s “door ajar” alarm sounded. The snow drove down harder, quickly coating the family’s winter clothing.

“I’m glad you all made it here safely,” he said. “But I don’t want you to worry one bit. Why, you didn’t hit any dogs of mine at all!” He gave what he hoped was an affable laugh, then addressed the woman, who still seemed out of sorts. “You only plowed into my beat-up old dog sled. Heck, I’d already put it out in the trash.”

Relief flooded her face. “Honestly? Oh, thank”—she cast her son a sideways glance—“G!”

That was a new one to him, but he supposed she was being cautious because of the kids. He found this charming somehow. Paul extended his hand. “Paul Love, nice to meet you.”

“Carol Baker.”

She took his grip and froze a beat. For the first time in the midst of all the commotion, Carol noticed what an incredibly handsome man he was. He was older than she was, but not by much. Probably late thirties, with a rugged face and a smile that could melt the snow in all of Maine. Warm brown eyes danced, apparently amused—and entranced—by her.

Carol felt her face flush, and she rushed to put the conversation on safer ground. She hadn’t been looked at like that by a man in a while. Or perhaps he hadn’t been looking at all, and she’d simply imagined it. “And these are my kids, Will and Ashley.”

“Welcome aboard, all of you,” he said through the whistling winds and snow that swirled around them. “I think we’d best get inside!”

Chapter Three

Paul sent Daniel to help the others settle in upstairs while he checked Carol in at the front desk. Her kids had been all too happy to make their way to their separate quarters. From the looks of their mom, it had been a long trip. Her finely drawn features were etched with the worries of a hard day. It was no wonder too. Driving through the North Woods in a snowstorm could tax anyone. More so, someone from a southern state with less winter weather experience than a New Englander.

Carol had just signed her credit card receipt when Ashley bounded down the stairs.

“Mom! There are bears in my room!”

Carol sighed apologetically. “She’s got a wild imagination.”

“No! I mean it,” the child persisted.

Just then, Will appeared, bounding down the steps behind his sister. “And there are foxes in mine! Seriously, Mom. It’s way cool.”

She turned toward Paul with a puzzled look, as he suppressed a grin. “Perhaps we should go and see?”

Ashley darted into her room as Carol trailed her, then stopped in her tracks. For once, her daughter hadn’t been exaggerating. This was the most spectacular display Carol had ever seen. The room’s décor was all
Black Bear
, complete with a wildlife painting over the fireplace and a huge four-poster bed with each of its posts carved into enormous claws and a bear’s head sculpted into the headboard.

“Wow, this is something,” Carol said, agape. She ran a hand down the exquisitely tapered frame of the bed. “Who’s the artist?” she asked, turning to Paul.

He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Local guy. Did every room in the place.”

“You mean they’re all animal themed?” Carol asked, intrigued. This part hadn’t been included in the brochure, which had shown just a photo of the inn from outdoors along with a shot of its large, inviting living room.

Paul nodded, then motioned for her to follow. They popped into Will’s room next, which was equally grand, only in a foxy, hunt-country style.

“Let’s go see Mom’s!” Will said, excited.

“Is it all moose?” Ashley asked with hopeful eyes.

“Uh-uh,” Paul replied with a smile. “Only
one
room in the inn sports a moose theme, and none of the guests get to see it.”

Carol felt herself flush at envisioning the very handsome innkeeper’s lair. She bet it was as rugged as he was, yet built for comfort like his big, sturdy arms. She blinked, wondering where that last thought had come from. A man his age was certainly married. Besides, she’d had the impression that his older teenage assistant might be his son. They had the same coloring and seemed to carry themselves in the same way, much as a father and son might do. Her kids scurried off, eager to unpack in their separate spaces. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Mr.—”

“Please, call me Paul.”

“Paul,” Carol repeated, catching her breath on the word. She couldn’t tell him that her very first crush had been on the Beatle Paul McCartney, and that name always had a special effect on her.

A gorgeous blonde appeared in the doorway, holding a large bath towel. “Going to shower before dinner,” she told him with a sweet look. He nodded; then his gaze trailed after her with what Carol assumed to be admiring affection. Suddenly consumed by heat, she unzipped her parka.
Naturally, the name Paul has an effect! It clearly has an effect on his wife too,
Carol thought, feeling a fool. She focused hard on the décor, hoping to give the impression that was all she’d been studying. Fantasies involving the innkeeper weren’t included in the Holiday Hills package. She’d do well to get a grip and remember that. This was what she got for ignoring the teacher-workroom chatter that told her she should get back out on the dating scene just like her ex had. Truth was, she hadn’t been able to imagine a way. Not with looking after little Ashley and Will and managing her job and the household besides. And anyhow, her heart hadn’t been ready. It still hadn’t recovered from the beating Jim had handed down, and felt the need to remind her of that time and time again. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” she said, removing her scarf. “You and your wife must have had a great time decorating.”

“Oh, my wife didn’t…” he said with a start. “What I mean is, I did all decorating.”

Carol caught herself massaging her empty ring finger and stopped, shoving her hands in her parka pockets. “So, what’s in my room?” she asked looking up. The White Album began playing through her mind. “Some
Rocky Rac-coo-hoons
?”
she sang before snorting a laugh. She’d tried to mimic the lines from the song but instantly realized how idiotic she’d sounded. If these polished wooden floorboards could open up and swallow her whole, now would be a good time. She folded her face in her hands, then dared to peek between splayed fingers.

Paul leaned toward her with a whisper as she inched back. He was devilishly handsome with those deep dark eyes, especially when he stood so close. “I’m afraid that room’s already been taken.” He twisted his lips in a wry smile. “By a die-hard Beatle’s fan.”

Carol’s heart thumped as her throat swelled shut. He couldn’t possibly know she had a fetish for all things Beatles, especially when those things were called Paul.
Paul, the very married innkeeper
, she reminded herself with a start. “Right,” she squeaked. “Thought so.”

Seconds later, he’d delivered her to her rabbit’s den and left her standing with her suitcase by the door. She rushed inside and banged it shut, slamming her back against it.
Oh Gawd,
she thought, biting into her knuckles.
What am I? Fourteen?

Something rapped soundly at the door. “Just so you know,” Paul called from the other side, “dinner’s at seven! I’ll see you and the kids downstairs.”

“Thanks!” Carol cried with a gulp. Now all that remained was forcing herself not to act like one of them. Or to drown her awkwardness in one too many glasses of Chablis and come out spouting “Yellow Submarine.” She yanked off her hat, determined to pull herself together. She was here for the kids, after all. A wonderful family vacation. And this place was turning out to be every bit as grand as she thought it might be. The fact that Paul was drop-dead gorgeous was clearly no fault of his own. He didn’t seem the stuck-up sort and probably never even thought about it. He was just a good, old-fashioned down-to-earth guy.
Which is why his lovely blonde wife loves him so much
, Carol reminded herself resolutely.

Paul strode away from Carol’s room, puzzling at their exchange. She was an unusual yet enchanting woman, engaging in a way that was disarming and funny at once. Sure, she’d been acting a bit punchy, especially about the raccoon thing. But hey, she’d had a long day. Besides, he’d heard that joke before. Running a fanciful place like this one, he’d come to expect lots of animal jokes. Besides, he himself was partial to the Beatles. Though he hadn’t played any of their music in years. He and Nancy had met at a Beatles Bash, in fact. It was a themed party the girls in her sorority had put together. They’d danced to some upbeat songs and then to some of the sweeter, early ballads. He’d fallen in love with her nearly at once.

Zach passed him in the hall, headed for the bath at the east end. The main drawback to this place, but one that guests had learned to live with, was the fact that there were only two upstairs bathrooms. The guests had to share, European style. Though, given the rest of the inn’s grand accoutrements, none of them seemed to mind. “I think Beth’s in that one,” Paul said, causing Zach to stop short.

“Thanks, man,” he said, turning. “Other one’s…?”

“Last door on the left,” Paul directed.

He descended the stairs with a spring in his step, thinking this Christmas vacation was turning out to be more interesting than he could have imagined. He hadn’t considered becoming involved with a woman in ages, and now two terribly attractive—and single ones—had appeared on his doorstep. Not that Carol Baker was any kind of option. He’d never yet hit on a guest, and it would be highly unprofessional of him to start now. Of course, Beth was a guest in a way too, but in a larger respect, she really wasn’t. She was more of an old friend he was helping out in difficult circumstances. That clearly meant he shouldn’t be taking advantage of her situation either. Paul heaved a breath, thinking he needed to get his head in order. He had things to organize for the evening meal and other preparations to make as well. For everyone who came to the Love Inn at Christmastime arrived with one primary expectation: to have a memorable, fun-filled holiday. That was something Paul felt comfortable in ensuring. He’d do well to leave thoughts of shoring up his beaten-down heart out of it. Heck, he’d be moving to Montreal by this time next year, anyway.

Beth lathered her hair, pondering this gift of the fates. While her cancelled flight to O’Hare was anticipated, given the weather, running into Velma and Zach at the gate had been a genuine surprise. Getting invited to come back here had been even more unexpected. Paul had been her first, wonderful love. Naturally, she’d thought of him from time to time over the years. Especially after things ran cold with Jack, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a mistake. While they’d all been friends in high school, somehow, going away to their separate universities had changed things. Goofball Jack had become more confident, morphing from a gangly teenager into a disarming and dashing young man. Ready to sweep her off her feet with his charm and good looks. Having been a high school beauty, Beth had become unsure of herself in her new coed world. Ever-stable Paul was really the only one of them who hadn’t seen the rush to reinvent himself in college. He’d always been focused and mature, maybe more mature than she’d been ready for or had completely understood at the time.

To her, Paul had appeared so predictable, unwilling to take chances and spread his wings. Jack wanted to get away and start over, far from their families and homegrown expectations. That had proved extra appealing to Beth, who couldn’t imagine going home again after her four years at Wellesley. Always having been good with his hands, Paul had long ago set his sights on this place, here. It had been foreclosed on when they were still kids, but he’d made a vow to restore and reopen it, even if he had to do most of the grunt work himself—which he apparently had, shortly after saving up funds from his student jobs and majoring in business. His new girlfriend, Nancy, had wholeheartedly supported his dreams. She’d been his partner and his helpmate, until a car accident had taken her unexpectedly shortly after the two of them had opened the inn they’d worked for years to lovingly craft together.