Grabbing a new pad and my colored pens, I set about making lists of reminders and questions: green for the events we’d have, blue for the setup and equipment we needed, purple for the advertising, and pink for the entertainment, which included figuring out who our grand marshal would be as well as the judges for the hat contest. I made a highlighted note to place more supervision around the food table.
My friends always made fun of my color-coded lists, but there was a reason Beverly Seymour had tracked me down like a bird of prey—I was known to be organized to a tee; having a baby and renovating and updating The Dogtrot all at the same time had made it necessary.
Sterling Mill loved any reason to gather for any occasion and had several celebrations throughout the year. Someone grumbled at the public town hall meetings at least twice a year that we needed something new to do, but I loved our little traditions, no matter how silly and redundant they might seem to other people. Besides, the events were well known and drew visitors from all over, which was good for everyone’s business. And despite feeling overwhelmed at taking on Derby Day, I was excited to add my own stamp to it.
I decided to make a trial run of a cupcake recipe I thought would pair well with the mint juleps that we, of course, had to serve since we were celebrating the derby, even if we put our own twist on it. If they were any good, I could put them out tomorrow afternoon as an extra treat for my guests.
The scent of vanilla and caramel flavor from the bourbon I’d added to the recipe filled the house. I even found a perfect, subtle mint icing to go on top. I got out my decorating tools and practiced a few ways to put the icing on top before I settled on a simple, generous swirl sprinkled with fine, brown sugar crystals. For the actual event, I would top each with a fresh mint leaf.
Mama declared them a real winner before she said good night. I sat in the kitchen and shamelessly ate two more before I cleaned up my mess. Despite his earlier declaration, Zach had obviously decided we didn’t need to talk after all. I was irritated he couldn’t have at least left me a note somewhere or called The Dogtrot to leave a message. Apparently, I no longer deserved that courtesy, not so different from all those years ago.
I changed into my sleeping outfit, a pair of soft flannel pants and one of my favorite lightweight sweatshirts with a cow chewing cud that said,It’s pasture bedtime. Not having gotten much sleep the night before, I’d easily drifted into slumber only to be awoken by athump,followed by a grunt. I grabbed my phone, ready to call the sheriff if needed. I peeked behind the shade toward the main porch and saw a figure lying on the steps. I frowned, trying to figure out who it could be. Finally, the person sat up, and I recognized a familiar profile.
I worried he’d tripped over something and would use it as an excuse to be even more angry with me, or worse, sue me. Instead, I found a side of Zach I’d never seen before. At first, I’d been annoyed when I saw how drunk he was, but then, I heard the pain in his voice and knew that finding me here hadn’t been any easier on him than me. If only he knew how much worse it was going to get.
* * *
Makingmyself scarce the next morning was easy. It was a Wednesday, the least busy day of the week as far as the number of guests staying, especially this time of year. I required a two-night minimum stay, although most people turned it into a three or even sometimes, a four-day weekend. But no matter how they scheduled it, that left Wednesdays as the usual odd day out. Only Zach and the Crawleys were still here, and that was only because Mr. Crawley had caught a cold and didn’t feel up to driving, so they’d asked if they could extend their stay for a couple of days. Fortunately, I could accommodate them.
I made a breakfast casserole that was self-serve, a simple recipe that I told myself had nothing to do with thinking the somewhat greasy cheese and sausage mixture would help the hangover I was sure Zach would have this morning. If Zach came down for breakfast, he did so while I was doing laundry and Shannon managed breakfast. Just in case, I had Shannon clean his room. If he was in there, I wasn’t ready to see him.
I thought back to the night before. I’d never seen Zach have more than a couple of drinks when I’d known him. Was getting drunk a habit he now made? I bit back a smile. Even in his drunkenness, he was funny, and it did nothing to interfere with his ability to kiss.
That kiss.
It had taken less than ten seconds before I fell into it and kissed him back. Thank goodness my sanity broke through before I fell into bed with him. What was I thinking? He was the one drunk, not me. How could I have done that? I could only guess that my brain was on overload with my worries since his arrival and wasn’t keeping up with good choices.
By the time late afternoon rolled around, I was back at the front desk, taking a reservation by phone. Most people preferred to use our website, something that we hadn’t had the capability of until I took over, but occasionally, people had extra questions and still preferred to call. And some were just particular about what they wanted, as was the current client. They would be the kind that was always finicky about something during their stay, but I never said “no” to a guest and did my best to accommodate them.
As I was talking them through the information of the only two rooms I still had available for their requested time, the front door opened. Zach strode through, looking none the worse for wear from his prior evening, but he froze when he saw me.
I missed something said on the phone. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that, please?” I sensed their exasperation and did my best to focus, hoping Zach would go upstairs. Instead, I felt his eyes remain on me. Finally, I satisfied the caller’s questions and collected all the information I needed to book the reservation.
“Hey,” I said, staying behind my desk. He looked so good in his dark shirt that took on different hues of gray as he moved. He looked like he had been at a business conference, but I wasn’t aware of any happening in town. Usually, if there was anything like that in the area, The Dogtrot was booked full.
“Hey.” He rocked in his leather shoes. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry I caused a scene.” He frowned. “That’s not like me.”
“I know. It wasn’t much of one.”
“Can I take you somewhere? Maybe for dinner so we can talk?”
“I don’t know…”
He held up his hand. “I know I haven’t been on my best behavior ever since that first night. I’d had a long drive after being sent here unexpectedly, and I’ve been off-kilter ever since, especially after seeing you here. Please accept my apology.”
“That was quite a surprise, wasn’t it?”
His rueful smile grew a little more hopeful. “I saw a diner down the street. It smelled great when I passed it. Of course, you would know if it is, I’m sure.”
“It is.”
There was a moment we both just stared at each other. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I guessed that, like me, we were trying to find our best footing around each other.
“Why are you here, Zach? I mean, it’s fine that you’re here. It’s a beautiful part of the country, so why wouldn’t you come here? There’s lots to do, but usually not as much this time of year, but yeah, that’s still fine. It’s just so odd that you would be here, where I am, after all this time, and I’m going to stop rambling now.”
To my relief, he chuckled. “They say it’s a small world, but yeah, I know what you mean. It is pretty here, but I’m here filling in for Doc Claypool.”
“Doc Claypool? But he’s a vet? Does that mean…”
