Page 2 of Three Hearts Hideaway

When the customers made their way up the stairs to the left of the desk, she stepped forward and did her best to flash a prize-winning smile.

“How can I help you, dear?” the lady whose name tag readGertieasked with a warm smile. Her short salt-and-pepper curls and bright emerald earrings stood out against her umber skin.

She wrung her hands. “I don’t have a reservation, but maybe you have something available? I’m hoping to stay for at least a week. Ten days at most.”

“Oh shucks.” Gertie’s brows furrowed. “My hotel is full, I’m afraid.”

Just her luck. One hotel in town and no rooms. Damn fishing competition. There had to be something available.

Anxiety crept up her neck, causing the muscles at the base of her skull to tighten. “I’ll take anything.” She couldn’t stop wringing her hands. “Even a back room or storage space. I didn’t plan ahead, and I always plan ahead. I readLittle Greenfieldon the flight board and it sounded so comfortable, and?—”

Gertie placed her hand on Ava’s shoulder, stopping her tirade. Her eyes focused softly on her own. “I wish I could help you out, hun, but there really aren’t any rooms available.”

Discouraged, tears stung her eyes. “I’m not in an ideal situation right now and would really love to catch a break.” She glanced down and began to mumble her thanks before turning to go.

“Oh, please don’t cry.” Gertie left her spot behind the desk and put her arm around her. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I know that when we have the chance to do good for others, we take it. That’s something Harold, my late husband, used to say. We ran this hotel together for forty years.” That warm smile illuminated her face once more. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you’re welcome to relax in the lobby. Or there is a friendly pub across the road where you can get a bite to eat. You can leave your suitcase with me behind the counter, if you’d like.”

Gertie quickly became her favourite person. Genial, lovely, caring. Just what she needed at this juncture in her life.

“Thanks, Gertie. That sounds like a good plan. I do need something to eat.” She tucked her suitcase behind the receptiondesk, and with a promise from Gertie to grab her from the pub if the woman figured something out, she made her way across the street to The White Pine Pub.

Little Greenfield only had one of everything, it seemed. One hotel. One pub. Probably one grocery store, one restaurant, one library—if any. It would be charming if she didn’t think she’d be sleeping on the streets tonight.

Like the hotel, the pub was old, but the outside appeared recently painted. The inside boasted a classic, yet comfortable feel. Lovely and dark, with light spilling out from lamps behind the bar off to the left, and exposed bulb fixtures above the tables. Heavy drapes covered the windows, but they didn’t make it stuffy. It had the air of being snug and…sultry. Could you describe a place as sultry? Why not? Such a masculine space, but done in such a tasteful way any person would enjoy being here.

The exposed dark wood beams matched the wood of the bar counter. Black wooden swivel chairs lined the polished bar. Round tables with metal stools dotted the floor. A few booths were tucked into the far wall. Tiny, ornate birdcages sat atop each table with a tea light inside. An interesting detail that added to the appeal of the place.

Considering it was only three in the afternoon, the place was pretty empty. She counted the total number of people on one hand.

Plopping herself down at the bar, she scanned the room once more to find a server. No one stood out. Small sleepy town, slow sleepy service.

Maybe she’d put her head down on the bartop, take a quick nap, and Gertie would wake her when her accommodationproblem was solved. That seemed reasonable, if not a little unhinged. Who hasn’t slept in a pub in a town they’ve never been to that they bought a one-way ticket to earlier that morning? Probably no one, that’s who.

Resting her head on the bar, she tucked her purse tightly between her legs to keep it safe and closed her eyes. The last two days had been an absolute shit show, and a bit of mediocre rest to calm her mind and figure out what the hell she needed to do about everything sounded fantastic.

“Welcome to my pub. Can I get you something?” A deep voice rumbled from behind the bar, a hint of amusement in the velvety tone.

Her eyes went wide. She slowly unglued her forehead from the bartop and looked up to see who the attractive voice belonged to. How she kept her jaw from dropping, she didn’t know.

His hair hung down to his shoulders, brunette with a slight wave, and he had a light bronze complexion. A thick, well-groomed beard hugged his face. Black tattoos wrapped around his neck and disappeared beneath his faded t-shirt, reappearing on his biceps, and snaking down the entirety of his arms. Even the back of his hands had intricate designs. A medley of flowers. Unexpected, but she liked it.

He was in the ballpark of six feet tall, broad, and built like a truck. Tall, thick, and tattooed. Her holy trifecta.

What the hell was her dream man doing in a place she’d never once dreamed about? Was this her mind’s way of making her feel better after the horrendous last few days? It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her brain to short circuit to get her through a tough time. But no…this man was real and standing in front of her, patiently waiting for her to respond.

“Um…sorry, what did you say?” No point in trying to hide that she spent the last thirty seconds ogling him instead of focusing on his question.

A grin tugged at his lips and he asked again, “Is there something I can get you?”

“Right. A gin and tonic would be good.”

“Coming right up,” he said with a wink, turning to fetch the fixings from the shelves and mix the drink.

Holy Lord Almighty.

Seriously.

Who else could have crafted the specimen in front of her?

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