Jake cleared his throat. “Any luck getting a tow truck to come out?”
“No. A man answered at the place you suggested, but he said the roads were impassable and he had a dozen or so requests for assistance to handle ahead of mine. With tomorrow being a holiday, he said it would be Monday at the earliest before he could tow my car to his garage.”
Some of that desperation leaked back into her expression. “Is there another garage I should try?”
“Maybe. But I have a feeling they’d all tell you the same thing,” Jake replied.
She nodded glumly.
“Well, not to worry. You’re welcome here,” Doreen said. “You’ll take Jake’s room.”
Her eyelids flickered. In surprise or dismay? “Oh, no. I couldn’t—”
“He insists,” Doreen said.
At Caro’s dubious expression, Jake added, “Actually, I do. It will save my mother and Bonnie from having to clean up another one of the guest rooms.”
She smiled. “Well, in that case …”
“You’d probably like a hot shower,” Doreen said. “Show her where everything is, Jake, while Bonnie and I try to come up with a change of clothes.”
Having been given his marching orders, Jake headed for the stairs. Even though Caro was behind him, he swore he could smell the subtle, sexy scent that wafted from her person.
CHAPTER THREE
CARO FOLLOWED JAKE UP the stairs just past the reception desk. The oak banister wobbled under her hand and the steps creaked beneath a maroon carpet runner that was worn and faded from age.
At the top, he turned right, bypassing two doors before stopping to open the third.
“This is it,” he said.
Jake stepped backward to allow her to enter the room first. She’d assumed she would follow him inside and so they wound up bumping into one another. The side of his foot came down on her big toe and the point of his elbow found her breast.
“God, sorry.”
“Excuse me,” she said.
Their words were issued simultaneously and with an equal measure of awkwardness.
“Um, are you … okay?” he asked.
“Fine. Good thing you aren’t still wearing your boots.” Caro chose to ignore entirely the other injury she’d suffered.
This time she was ready when Jake waved her ahead.
The room was a good size, with a dormer wide enough to fit a desk and a sitting area comprised of two wingback chairs that flanked a fireplace. Clothes were draped over the chairs, making it clear sitting wasn’t their function these days. But the fireplace looked to be in working order, if the ashes and charred log inside the opening were any indication.
Caro wished it were lit now. She felt as if she would never be warm again. But she didn’t ask Jake to indulge her. She’d put him through too much trouble already.
The other main focus of the room, of course, was the bed. It was an antique brass number that she’d bet was original to the inn. She crossed to get a better look at the detail work on the tarnished headboard. As she rested one hand on the cool metal, the covers distracted her. They lay in a twisted heap in the center of the sagging mattress. Hers always looked the same by morning, no matter how diligently she tucked in the sheets. She pictured Jake there, tossing and turning. Intrigued, she nonetheless forced the image away.
He cleared his throat, making her aware that he stood just behind her. Caro turned. She could only imagine what he was thinking.
“You’re a restless sleeper,” she said inanely.
His brows shot up.
“The covers.” She motioned to them with one hand. “They’re all bunched up.”
“I would have straightened my bed if I’d known someone besides me would be sleeping in it tonight. I wasn’t expecting company. More company, that is.”
“I didn’t mean to sound critical,” she offered hastily. “In fact, my covers always look the same by morning.”
His brows rose again, making her feel foolish and flustered. She didn’t care for either sensation. So, when she spoke again, her tone was no-nonsense. “Anyway, I really do appreciate your giving up your bed for me. The room is very nice. Lovely in fact.”
His laughter startled her almost as much as the transformation humor made on his appearance.
“It’s a dump, Caro. The whole place is.” He sobered then as he glanced around. “It wasn’t always like this and it won’t be by the time I’m finished. I’ll make it right.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that final fierce declaration. In the end, it didn’t matter. He switched gears and returned to more practical matters.
“There are only three bathrooms that are in working order in the entire place. One is on the main floor next to what used to be the caretaker’s quarters. The other two are up here, including the one through there.” He pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “Sorry I wasn’t able to go back for your bag, but you’ll find most of the basics—soap, shampoo, toothpaste. I think there’s even a new toothbrush in one of the vanity drawers.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She offered a smile. “It sure beats sleeping in a snowdrift.”
“You wouldn’t be sleeping. You’d be dead.”
Her smile vanished.
“Sorry.” He glanced away.
For the first time, she noticed a small, crescent-shaped scar at the corner of his left eye. She had one similar in size and shape on the underside of her chin, the result of a fall off her bike when she was six. Truman considered it a defect and had tried more than once to talk her into seeing a plastic surgeon to have it made less noticeable.
She was glad she’d resisted. As it was, he’d managed to erase so much of her personality and her person, remaking her into an image she’d barely recognized when she gazed in the mirror. One of the first things she’d done after leaving him was to dye her hair back to something resembling its natural shade of caramel-brown. He’d preferred her as a blonde, and he knew best, after all.
“Sorry,” Jake said again, pulling her from her musings. This time he sounded a little more irritated than contrite.
“No need to apologize. Besides, you’re right. I was already in serious trouble when you happened along,” Caro admitted. “And I didn’t mean to stare at you just now. It’s just that I was noticing your scar.”
On impulse she reached over and traced its smooth surface with one fingertip. He pulled backward as if she’d struck him.
“It gives your face character.”
“That’s putting it politely.” He didn’t sound convinced. Nor did he appear to appreciate her forwardness.
“I have one, too.” She tilted up her chin and pointed. “See? Right here.”
He cupped the side of her face and turned her head slightly to get a better look. His callused hand felt rough against her skin. She told herself that was the only reason for the odd sensation his touch inspired.
“How’d you get yours?” he asked as he withdrew his hand.
“I fell off my bike and hit the handlebars on my way down. I was six. You?”
“Eleven. Dean and