Page 52 of Kellan & Emmett
I reached out, fingers brushing the grooves. “God,” I whispered. “We were what, fourteen? Fifteen?”
Emmett’s smile was soft. “Something like that.”
The words clawed up before I could stop them. “I wanted to carve a heart back then.” My palm pressed flat against the bark. “Just couldn’t bring myself to.”
For a beat, silence held. Then Emmett pressed the knife into my hand, his eyes steady. “So do it now.”
I swallowed, chest tight, and carved a slow curve around our names. Emmett steadied the bark with his hand, his fingers brushing mine as we finished the heart together.
When I leaned back, it was there, bold and certain—what I hadn’t been brave enough to admit as a kid.[19]
Daily To-Do
Fresh flowers in the nook vases
Refill iced tea pitchers
Double-check online reservations
Kiss Kellan goodnight
Chapter 27
Emmett
The two weeks since the creek had blurred into something that almost felt like a rhythm. A dangerous rhythm, maybe, but one I couldn’t bring myself to break. We worked side by side in the mornings, tackling garden beds and laundry loads. At night, when the guests had gone quiet, Kellan would slip into my room or I into his, the house hushed but my pulse loud as a drum. It wasn’t always sex—sometimes it was just talking until the small hours, sometimes kissing slow until my lips ached. Always, it was him.
By daylight, though, we played our parts. He still left each morning for camp, whistle swinging, sunblock streaked haphazard across his nose. I watched him from the porch as he headed down the gravel drive,my chest caught between pride and reluctance. The way kids lit up around him made me ache—he belonged with them, in motion, alive. But the quiet stretch of his back as he disappeared around the bend always left me counting the hours until he’d return.[20]
Midday, the inn was humming along as usual—until it wasn’t.
The bell above the door jingled, sharp against the heavy June heat pressing in from the porch. My smile clicked into place automatically—fifteen years of running this place had trained me well. I wiped my palms on a dish towel and stepped into the foyer just as a young couple pushed through the door, rolling luggage behind them. Sunburned, fingers twined tight, still wearing that honeymoon glow.
“Welcome to Gardenia Inn,” I said, smooth as ever, even though my stomach gave a hard kick. I knew those names. I’d seen them in the book this morning.
The husband pulled a folded email from his back pocket. “Reservation for four nights. King room?”
I flipped open the ledger, then the tablet, scanning dates. And there it was—two reservations stacked on top of each other. Jenna’s shift last week. Same dates. Same room.
My stomach dropped. Not the first time—God knows double bookings happened every couple of years. Usually I sent someone across town to Carol’s B&B or comped a night until another room opened. But June in Gomillion? Every bed in the county was already filled.
“Looks like we’ve had a mix-up on our end,” I said, keeping my voice warm, apologetic. The towel twisted in my hands. “I’ll get this sorted right away. Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable in the lounge? There’s iced tea, fresh cookies—on the house.”
They exchanged a look—friendly enough, but firm. They expected their booking to be honored. And I’d make damn sure it was.
As soon as the lounge door clicked behind them, my smile dropped. My jaw ached from holding it. I flipped back through the ledger, scrolling the dates again, muttering under my breath. “Damn it, Jenna. Copy-pasted the same block twice.”
I pressed my fingers to my temple, forced a breath through my nose.Okay. Fix it, Emmett. You’ve done this before. You can fix it.
Except every other room was full. No wiggle room. The older couple in Room Two were here for a wedding, not leaving until Sunday. The honeymooners upstairs weren’t about to give up the suite they’d specifically requested. And the author who said he was completing the last book in his mystery book series.
Which left only one possibility.[21]
