She laughed. “Not only are you not a local, you’ve never been here before or you’d know that was a silly question. There are only a few hundred residents in Mystic Glades. And there’s not a stranger in the bunch. We all know each other.”
“What about that young man I saw go inside a minute ago? You know him, too?”
Her smile faded. Was this one of the men Eddie was mixed up with? This man, as ruggedly gorgeous as he was—looked like the wrong crowd, dangerous even. She crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just testing your theory—that you know everyone. Maybe he’s a tourist like me. Doesn’t matter.” He held out his hand. “I’m Colton Graham. And if you’ve got a room available tonight, I’d appreciate a place to stay.”
She reluctantly shook his hand, not quite ready to trust his claim of being a tourist. “Silver Westbrook.”
Still, if he was a tourist, then his interest in Eddie was probably just harmless curiosity, nothing she really needed to worry about. And that meant that she didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to enjoy the play of light across the interesting planes of his face. She rarely painted anymore, preferring to sketch with pencil or charcoal, sometimes pen, without all the mess or work involved with setting up her paints and then cleaning up afterward. But the best way to capture him might be with paint, perhaps watercolors.
“Ma’am?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Spaced out again, didn’t I?”
The almost-grin was back. “Yeah, you did. Is something wrong? You seem preoccupied.”
“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She waved her hand impatiently, tired of having to explain her unfortunate quirks to everyone she met.
At his uncertain look she sighed. “I get lost in shapes, textures, colors. I can’t help it.”
“Ah. You’re an artist. I know the type. My sister does that a lot.” He smiled, a full-out grin this time that reached his incredible blue eyes. And completely transformed him, just as she’d thought it would. Smiling, he looked approachable, warm, perfect. She had to put him on canvas. It would be a sin not to. And she wouldn’t use watercolors. They were too muted for this vibrant man. No, acrylics...that was what she’d use to capture every detail in vivid color.
Her gaze dropped to his narrow waist. “Have you ever modeled?” she asked. “I’d love to paint you nude. I would pay a sitting fee, of course. I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, but I could let you stay a night without charge and call it even.”
He made a strangled sound in his throat and coughed. “Um, no, thanks. That’s not really my thing.” He waved toward the inn again. “But I would like to rent a room for the night, if you have a vacancy.”
Swallowing her disappointment, she glanced around, suddenly very much aware of how alone the two of them were and how separated the inn was from the other businesses. The street was deserted, with most of the residents out of town at their day jobs or inside the local businesses. The idea of taking this man, this complete stranger, into her home had her feeling unsettled.
“You don’t have any vacancies, then,” he said, interpreting her silence as a no.
“It’s not that. Actually, the grand opening is tomorrow. I hadn’t really planned on renting out any rooms tonight.”
He waited, quietly watching her.
Why was she hesitating? This wariness was silly. If she was going to run a bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to get used to renting rooms to people she didn’t know. And drop-ins were bound to happen. It certainly wouldn’t be nice to turn him away when she was fully capable of offering him a place for the night. And the extra income was always welcome.
“Okay, why not?” she said. “But don’t expect me to cook for you today. That starts tomorrow, when my help arrives.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out so I don’t starve.”
His smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help smiling, too. “Just one night, then?”
He glanced toward the front doors, then in the direction of the airboat dock about fifty yards away, which was barely visible from here. Or maybe he was looking at the church with its old-fashioned steeple and bell that the ushers rang by pulling on a rope every Sunday morning at precisely nine o’clock.
“Just tonight,” he said.
His rich baritone sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. He really was an exquisite specimen of male. And she really, really wanted to paint him. Maybe she could ask him again later to model for her and he might change his mind. And if she could convince him to stay longer than one night, she’d have more chances to try to sway him into modeling for her. Plus, starting tomorrow, the place would be full of other people. Any concerns about being alone with a man she didn’t know wouldn’t matter at that point. When it came down to it, more important than the painting was the money. A fully rented inn was far better than a partially rented one.
“If you want to stay just one night, that’s okay,” she said. “But there are only eight rooms and seven are booked solid for the season. I expect the last one will get snatched up pretty fast once the first group of guests begins to spread the word about their stay here. If you don’t take it now, it might not be available later in the week.”
“You’re quite the saleswoman. Okay, I’ll book a week. Might as well. Never been in the Everglades before and this looks like a great spot.”
Yes! That put her at 100 percent occupancy. She couldn’t ask for a better start to the business she’d been saving her whole life to start. And her other job would be over soon, God willing, so that income wasn’t something she could rely on indefinitely. Every penny counted now.
“Aren’t you even going to ask the price?” She crunched down the gravel path toward the front doors with him keeping pace beside her.
“That was going to be my next question.”
She gave him the particulars and he handed her a credit card before holding one of the doors open for her.
“Sounds more than reasonable,” he said.
“Great. And thanks,” she said as she stepped through the door he was holding. She led him to the check-in desk beside the staircase. She took an impression of his credit card on an old-fashioned carbon paper machine and set it on the counter for him to sign.
“Haven’t seen one of those since I was a little kid,” he said as he took the pen from her and scrawled his signature across the bottom.
“Yeah, well. You do what you have to do without reliable internet and phone service. Don’t worry, though. There are hundreds of movies in the bookshelves in the great room for you to choose from if you want to watch something while you’re here. I’ve got the classics along with tons of newer titles in all genres. And each guest room has its own TV and DVD player.”
“Sounds good.” He pocketed his credit card and scanned the lobby as if he was looking for someone. Then he suddenly grew very still, his gaze settling on something behind her.
Fearing that a wild animal had somehow managed to sneak inside, Silver whirled around. No furry attacker was waiting to jump at her. But what Colton was staring at was just as dangerous...for Eddie.
The network of cubbies on the homemade bookshelf that spanned the wall behind the desk held the blue vase prominently in the middle where Eddie must have placed it. And that was where Colton’s gaze was currently riveted. A shiver shot up Silver’s spine at the intensity of that look. And this time it wasn’t a good shiver.
Without asking her permission, he rounded the desk and hefted the vase in his right hand. “This is...beautiful. Where did you get it?”
Beautiful? She’d bet her last sketch pad that he’d been about to say something else and stopped himself.