Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

By the time she went upstairs to bed, Caroline was exhausted.

The days had been nonstop since Thanksgiving. Besides the Christmas decorations for the inn—which, even with her mother and Nora’s help, had taken until Wednesday to finish—there had been an influx of guest check-ins for the holidays.

She couldn’t complain. It was a complete one-eighty from the year before, when the inn’s business had slowed to a trickle and she had watched her mother start to fret about the future of the inn. Nora’s business plan had revitalized it, and they were seeing the fruits of that labor well into a year later. It was, without question, a very good thing.

But it left her tired. There had been rooms to get ready, the aforementioned check-ins to manage, dietary restrictions to mark down, special items that had been requested to send up to rooms, schedules of events to hand out.

There had been questions, and directions to give, snacks and hot cider and mulled wine that needed to be ready for incoming guests and for the evening happy hour before dinner. Plus all the normal chores, caring for the animals, and everything else that had to be managed. She was sure she hadn’t stopped for a second since she’d gotten up that morning.

She turned on the fireplace, enjoying the crackle as she set it to turn off automatically in half an hour. She put on her warmest, comfiest pajamas, setting her special treat that she’d brought up with her on the nightstand next to the bed. It was candy cane tea, something that only she really liked, but which she’d grown up with and loved for a long time. Just a cup of mint tea, stirred with a candy cane until the candy started to dissolve into the tea.

It was one of her favorite things, and she tried to savor it as she curled up under her blankets and reached for her book. She’d barely gotten more than a few pages in when her eyelids started to droop, and she couldn’t stay awake. She barely managed to finish the tea before she drifted off.

She slid down under the covers, switching off the lamp and breathing in the Christmassy scent of the candy cane, savoring the smell and the warmth of the fireplace. Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Audrey as she closed her eyes, and she recalled the remark about her childhood ideas when it came to men, and her dreams of a dark-haired Prince Charming.

It would be nice to have someone to cuddle with, she thought sleepily. Someone to share the holiday season with.

But that was just a fantasy. Not her reality.

Still, the thought lingered as she fell asleep.

Her dreams were right out of a Christmas movie, the kind of thing her mother loved and she never found the time to watch—full of a handsome, faceless stranger who swept her off of her feet, quite literally.

She dreamed of coming down off the ladder after hanging Christmas lights, seeing a dark-haired man standing at the porch steps, turned a little away from her. Her boot hit a patch of ice just as she asked him what he needed, sending her flying—and then there were strong arms around her, keeping her from falling into the snow.

She liked the way it felt, and it set off alarm bells in her head?—

No. Those alarms are real.

She jerked awake, the shrieking of the smoke alarm in the hallway dragging her out of the pleasant dream. The fireplace had gone off, and when she glanced quickly at her bedside clock, she saw it was an hour later.

She sat up sharply, looking around as the alarm shrieked. Nothing seemed to be amiss in the dark surroundings of her room. No smell of smoke, no signs of a fire.

There was a heavy knock at her door, and a moment later it opened slightly, her father peeking his head in. Donovan was wrapped in his robe, looking wide awake. “We all need to go outside, Caroline,” he said, his voice a little rusty with sleep.

She rubbed a hand over her face, reluctant to leave the warmth of her bed and the possibility of slipping back into the dream. “Nothing seems to be on fire,” she pointed out. “Just an errant alarm.”

“Still, we need to go. I called the fire department, and they’re on their way. All the guests are headed outside, so we should too.”

“Okay.” Caroline dragged herself out of bed, grabbing her long jacket and pulling it on over her pajamas, jamming her feet into her boots. “Let’s go, then.” She’d never been one to argue, but she looked longingly back at her bed as she followed her father downstairs.

Outside, she could hear her mother reassuring the guests that everything was all right, going from one cranky, recently awakened person to another to promise them that it was just a faulty alarm, and the fire department would be right there to check everything over, and then they could be back in bed.

I would love that, Caroline thought, blinking sleep away as she tugged her jacket closer around herself.

It was frigid out, and she shivered as she looked for the fire truck. She felt annoyed that she—and everyone else—had been yanked out of bed, and she felt mortified that their guests had been disturbed by something as easily fixable as a malfunctioning alarm.

She checked them all regularly, and she couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong, but she couldn’t help but feel as if it were somehow a reflection of her hard work taking care of the inn. She’d worked herself to the bone all day, making sure that the guests had the best experience possible, and something had still gone wrong.

She heard the sound of the fire truck, pulling up to the curb, but she was busy looking at the guests, trying to ascertain if any of them were upset enough to check out early, or demand a refund or discount.

She didn’t even notice the unfamiliar, tall firefighter until he was right in front of her, clearing his throat as if he were having to ask his question a second time.

“What?” Caroline blinked, turning toward him.

“Are you the owner?”

For the first time in years, she was completely tongue-tied. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a man so handsome. He had a striking, strong face, a sharp, clean-shaven jaw, and green eyes. She thought she saw a hint of dark brown hair under his firefighter’s helmet.

“I am, yes. I’m the owner. Or rather, my parents are. Well, we do it together, but?—”

She fell silent, realizing she was stammering, and her cheeks flushed.

“I’m Rhett Dawkins. Recent addition to the firefighting team here. I just need to ask you a couple of questions—the gentleman on the phone said your smoke alarm went off?”

Caroline nodded.

“Have they all been checked and serviced recently?”

“Yes. I did it myself.” She heard the hint of pride in her voice. Clearly, it mattered to her that he thought she was capable, although she knew it really shouldn’t.

“And all of the rooms are non-smoking?”

“Of course.”

“Any issues with fireplaces, chimneys, anything in need of replacing that hasn’t been fixed yet? Gas and electric checked recently?”

Caroline nodded. “All of it is regularly inspected and in good shape. When things need repair we take care of it right away.”

“All right then. Thank you. I’m just going to take a look inside.” He nodded to her, walking up the driveway to the front of the inn, and Caroline could feel her face burning as he left. She hadn’t acted that way around anyone since… well, probably not since high school.

“Who was that?” Rhonda asked, coming to stand next to her along with Donovan.

“I don’t know. One of the firefighters, I guess. He said he was new.” Caroline rubbed her cold hands together. “I’ve never seen him before, he said his name was Rhett Dawkins.”

“What if something is wrong with the building?” Rhonda fretted, and Caroline could hear real worry in her mother’s voice. “We were just starting to get ahead again, and if we have to refund guests, it will be bad for retention too. We just had people starting to come back.”

Privately, Caroline was also worried. She knew the thin margin the inn was on, and how easily they could backslide from the nudge forward that the influx of business had given them. But she knew there was no point in worrying about it just then.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she reassured her mother. “Just a rogue alarm gone bad or something. Little things like that happen sometimes.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rhonda murmured, and Caroline reached over to rub her mother’s shoulder reassuringly, feeling some of her cool, calm demeanor returning. She reminded herself to be practical, that this was just an accident and nothing so out of the ordinary that they really needed to worry.

Rhett came back out fifteen minutes later, looking unfazed. “There’s no fire,” he told Caroline and her parents. “So far as I can tell, everything seems to be under control.” He glanced among the three of them. “But I’d just go over safety procedures with your guests again to make sure. No open flames in rooms, candles, that sort of thing. And make sure those fire alarms are all checked. Maybe you missed one.”

Caroline was very sure that she hadn’t. But she had been busy, and things could’ve slipped, so she didn’t say anything. Maybe she had made a mistake, even though that would be out of character for her.

I’ll be more careful, she told herself, before realizing her parents were still chatting with Rhett.

“—just moved here,” he was saying. “Got a job with the fire department, and made the jump to come here.”

“Welcome,” Donovan said, shaking his hand.

Rhonda chimed in. “I hope it’s been everything you wanted, so far.”

“So far.” Rhett smiled at them. “Thanks for that.” His gaze shifted to Caroline, and she was struck once more by how handsome he was. “Your Christmas decorations are fantastic, by the way.”

She was so stunned that she couldn’t speak for a moment, completely thrown off by the compliment. By the time she found her voice, he was already walking back to the fire truck, and she was needed to get the guests back inside and re-situated.

As she headed back inside, she put it out of her mind.

But the odd feeling that he’d left her with lingered.