14. Reylor

Chapter 14

Reylor

I woke in one of the guestrooms the next morning with the light scent of cinnamon teasing my senses, and rolled out of bed, padding into the adjacent bathroom.

Hannah had done an amazing job here already. The bedroom was cozy with new, though antique-appearing furniture, and the refinished floor gleamed in the morning sunlight. The bathroom was just as nice, a mix of a polished claw-footed tub, a pedestal sink, and a modern toilet. The shower had been freshly tiled, and the rain shower head would go over well with guests.

With the beach right outside, this would be the perfect vacation destination. Once this place was up and running, it would be full every single day of the year.

After brushing my teeth at the pristine sink, I stared at my image in the mirror. My scruff needed trimming, and I’d do so when I had my things. I kept a short beard because I liked it, but if it got too long, it was hot and it got itchy.

I took a shower, using the sample shampoo and soap, then donned the throw again. Having no clothing might prove to be a problem, but I’d bring things over and stay with her until this case was finished. There was no way I was leaving Hannah alone at night to handle whatever might come next.

When I reached the first level, I heard voices and followed them to the small dining room, pausing in the entry.

“There you are,” Hannah said with a smile. She waved to the elderly woman sitting at the table, buttering a muffin. “This is Sylvia Carrier. She lives a few doors down.”

Sylvia stood, her pale blue eyes widening behind her cat’s-eye glasses. About seventy, she wore her silver hair in a bun at her nape, and she’d dressed her slender frame in what looked like a wild west prairie dress straight from the 1800s. If I had my guess, she also wore authentic, 1800s button-up shoes.

“So nice to meet you,” Sylvia said in a quavery voice, her fingers twitching on the poke bonnet she’d tied around her neck. “Why aren’t you wearing clothing? Not that I’m complaining. You’re quite . . . fit.”

“Sylvia owns Phantom Finds, the antique shop here in town.”

“Exclusive collections,” Sylvia said pertly. “I live in the apartment above my shop. If you happen to have access to antiques you’d like to sell, I’m your gal. Want to buy? I’m also your gal. I do offer a commission, and I’m happy to part with money for the right thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “I’m Reylor. A dragon shifter.”

“Oh, now isn’t that delightful?” she said.

Hannah grinned. “He forgot to bring his bag when he spent the night.” She coughed. “In one of my guestrooms.”

“Oh! Your first customer?” Sylvia clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Congratulations.”

Hannah’s smile joined in. “Not quite but close enough.”

“Why didn’t you bring your bag?” Sylvia asked, her gaze lingering on my chest so long I wanted to find something to cover up. “Did your airline lose your luggage? That happened to a friend of mine once. It took four days for her to receive it, and she was on a cruise. Oh, dear, it was dreadful. She had to wash out her underthings in the sink and wear what she could buy on the ship. Everything came in Hawaiian floral or leopard print. She was thrilled when she arrived in Barbados to find her luggage had caught up to the ship. As for her contact lenses, let me tell you, she had to use shot glasses. Shot glasses, I say! Imagine fishing your finger around inside the—”

“I shifted,” I said. “No cruise. No airline. No need for luggage. I live locally. I usually remember to bring a new set of clothing with me when I shift, but last night, I forgot.”

“He’ll collect some things today,” Hannah said.

“Ah, I see.” Sylvia retook her seat and lifted her coffee mug, taking a sip. “When exactly do you plan to open for business then, dear?”

“Soon. Reylor’s here to—”

“Help Hannah finish the construction so she can get her B I couldn’t do anything less. “And I love seeing my progress.”

“She’s done an amazing job already,” I said. The muffins were incredible, and the coffee held just the right smokey note. I’d ask her where she bought her beans later.

“What if you fall?” Sylvia tutted. “You could lie somewhere for hours, injured with no one hearing your cry for help.”

“I take my phone with me everywhere.”

“Sell, I tell you. Grant will make sure you come out of the deal with a profit.”

“I’m not selling,” Hannah ground out.

“I suppose it’s your decision.” Sylvia’s gaze met mine. Did I see anything conniving there? “I would hate to see this lovely old building come to harm.”

Was that a threat or a concerned friend expressing her worry to Hannah?

There would be no harm in looking into Sylvia to see if she had a motive for sabotaging Hannah’s B&B.