Page 23 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“Perfect!” Mom said. “I’ll come over right after church and watch Coby. You two can get a late lunch, then head out.”
“Okay. See you Sunday.” He grinned at me before pulling the lobby door closed behind him.
I kept the smile on my face until I knew he was out of earshot and then I glared at Mom. “Thanks for that.”
“You are so welcome, sweetheart.” She started fanning herself again, oblivious to my sarcasm. “He is dreamy.”
She had that right. As over the top as she’d been, I couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing Hunter on Sunday.
Maybe he’d even take me up on my dinner invitation before then. I had an upcoming date with Warren Adams at a fancy restaurant and I couldn’t conjure an ounce of excitement, but the idea that Hunter might come up to the loft for a humble supper at my tiny table had me practically giddy.
Coby tugged on my hand. “Mommy, let’s go.”
“You got it, bud. Let me get locked up.” I shut down my computer and locked the lobby door, hanging up my sign. “You guys are coming up, right?” I asked Mom and Michael. They both nodded and we all followed Coby up the stairs.
The second we walked into the loft, I cringed. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t cleaned before inviting Mom upstairs.
I worked tirelessly to keep the motel spotless but sometimes ran out of steam before I could clean the loft. Mom didn’t care if it was messy, but she also couldn’t stop herself from picking up. She did so much for me already, between watching Coby and helping at the motel, I hated for her to clean my home too.
Just as I’d predicted, she walked in and got right to work as Coby sprinted past us to go to Pickle’s crate by the back door.
“Mom, you don’t need to do that,” I said as she tidied the pile of shoes by the door.
“I don’t mind.” With the shoes arranged, she went right into the living room to fluff the pillows on my charcoal corduroy sectional, which divided the living room from the kitchen on the left. When she started putting toys back into their tan baskets underneath my entertainment center, I hustled to tidy the kitchen before she could beat me to it.
Thankfully, my kitchen was about the size of a thimble so it took me just a few minutes to wipe crumbs off the Formica countertops and load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“I’ll take that washcloth,” Mom said and swiped it from the sink. Then she went to my small, four-seater, circular table off the living room and commenced wiping.
“Mom, I will clean up later. Just leave it.”
She kept wiping. “This will take just a minute. You’ve got so much on your plate, let your mother clean. It’s important to me.”
I sighed. “All right.”
Mom had told me once that helping her kids was her purpose in life. She had forgone a career to stay at home when we were younger, and now that Beau, Michael and I were grown, I think she felt a bit lost at times. We still needed her, me and Coby especially, but it was different than the chaos and constant buzz of having three kids in her home.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Michael, who was poking around my fridge.
Despite my protest, Mom wouldn’t stop cleaning and I couldn’t let her do all the work herself. I walked past the living room and down the hallway to the only bathroom in the loft. Picking up a towel from the linoleum floor, I used it to wipe Coby’s blue toothpaste off the sink. Then I went to my room and swiped clothes from the floor, shoving them in the stackable washer in my bedroom closet. With my room presentable, I walked across the hall to Coby’s room to quickly make his bed and put away the toys he’d pulled out this morning before daycare.
It wasn’t clean clean, but it was an improvement and enough to get Mom to relax and just visit for a while.
On my way back to the living room, my eyes drifted out the window that overlooked the parking lot. They drifted to that window a lot these days, looking for any sign of Hunter. As expected, his truck was gone but that didn’t keep me from checking anyway. I was becoming addicted to the rush in my heart and the flutter in my stomach any time I caught a glance of the man who had intrigued me so.
It had been a long time since I’d felt this way about a man. Not since Everett. Maybe it was a sign that I was finally ready to move on, to commit to a real relationship, not just date casually when forced by my friends. Maybe it was a sign that I was ready to let go of the fears Everett had instilled.
I just hoped that for my next relationship, I wouldn’t pick such a bad apple. That I wouldn’t pick someone so full of poison.
Hunter
Pulling back into the motel, I glanced up at Maisy’s loft, hoping to see her in the window. Her lights were out, no surprise since it was past eleven, but I checked that window every night regardless of the time.
Most men would steer clear of a woman who had kneed them in the balls. Normally, a man would send that woman as far away from him as she could get. Instead, I had become desperate for any chance to be near her, even if that meant just looking at her home and knowing she was inside.
Which meant I was fucked.
I’d had the perfect excuse to cut my stay at The Bitterroot Inn short. Having the owner assault your manhood was a justifiable excuse to cancel a reservation, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to pack my bags.
