Paris frowned and her eyes glittered. “I generally don’t eat with the guests. And Michael is busy enough since we are short handed.”
Michael gave a laugh and left them. Paris grabbed a keycard from behind the counter. “I’ll take you to the loft. You’ll need to carry your own case.”
Dominic followed her, watching the sway of her hips under the baggy shirt. She looked way too young to own a place like this—she couldn’t be over twenty-five and this place was absolutely huge. There had to be a story here. And he had nothing but time on his hands.
He was already regretting the impulse that had led him here. Zach had sworn the place was an oasis of quiet. But Dominic was thinking more about barren deserts right now. A backwater town down the road and this place. No staff, no service…and no…
He cut off the thought. Wasn’t he here to get away from everything—women and wealth? And boy had he hit the mother lode on that. Hell, he wasn’t even getting cell signal here.
Paris started up the stairs and Dominic got a better look at her long legs and shapely backside. The sway of her hips distracted him utterly and when she stopped, he bumped into her.
Moving away, she glanced back at him. “Careful.”
He held out a hand. “Hey, you might’ve warned me we were stopping.”
“Right. Your room is here.” She waved to a door, unlocked it with the keycard and waved him in. He stepped past her, and caught a hint of her scent—which smelled a lot like lavender. The scent took him back decades. That had been his grandmother’s scent. He glanced at her, caught her watching him. She looked away fast and move to turn on a light. “This room is a little dark, but it does have a view.” She pulled open the curtains with a jerk.
He glanced around the room. It seemed more like a small studio with a kitchenette, a small dining area, a comfortable-looking bed, a generous wood balcony, and a door which he assumed opened into the bathroom.
He gave Paris a smile. “A guided tour from the beautiful owner. Do you give all your guests this great a service?”
She met his stare, one eyebrow lifted. “Let’s settle a couple of things. I’m really not interested in flirting with the guests.”
“And you don’t eat with them—got it. So what do you do?”
She headed back to the door, but she stopped there and asked, “How will you be paying, Mr. Murphy? Cash or credit card?”
He pulled out the bills he’d brought with him, counted out five and handed them over. Their fingers brushed as she took the cash from him. A small shock went through him. She must have felt it, too, for her cheeks pinked. He smiled and pocketed the rest of the bills. “That should get us off to a good start.”
She glanced at the money in her hand and then at him. “You must do well as an artist?”
He shrugged and took a step closer. She had a wide, generous mouth, one that quirked at the side when she seemed amused. She also had laugh lines around her eyes and the corners of her lips. “And how well do you do, Paris?”
Heading to the door, she called back, “Have a good stay, Mr. Murphy.” She left, closing the door behind her.
Dominic wandered over to the balcony and pulled open the sliding glass door. He let out a breath. The air smelled of pine—a little dry from summer still and warm even though it was late into fall. He’d come here to reconnect with himself—with the real world. Now he was starting to wonder if he’d just go nuts in about three days. No other guests. A starchy innkeeper. And a barkeep who looked like the kind of guy who liked to gossip.
Dominic shook his head. He couldn’t see what anyone could see in an isolated place like this—except that it was far way from cameras. But he was stuck here for two weeks—maybe three. He’d told Zach to make sure everyone knew Dominic McCarthy was out of reach. He had enough cash to get by—barely. He was out on his own for the first time in over a decade with not much more than his wits.
Mouth crooked, he unpacked his bag and took out his spare cash. This wasn’t going to last long, and he’d left his credit cards behind intentionally. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he had to get a job?
A sharp rap sounded on the door. He opened it. Michael offered up a checked-towel covered platter. “Sorry. It’s stew tonight. You’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow for the burgers.”
Dominic took the platter from him. The smell of fresh bread, melting butter and rich meat drifted up. His stomach let out a growl. “This won’t be getting cold, I can assure you.” He waved Michael in.
The man uncovered bowls and put them on the kitchenette table. “How you settling in? The quiet get to you yet?”
“What makes you ask that?”
Michael smiled. “You have the look of the city stamped on you. You must miss the noise—the air pollution.”
Dominic nodded. “The suit. I knew that was a mistake. Let’s say, this is an…an artistic experiment.”
“Like man versus wild?” Michael let out a loud, raucous laugh. “We’re not all that wild. Though I’ve seen a bear or two digging around in the trash in the mornings.”
Dominic stared at him. “You’re not joking are you?”
“Oh, I never joke about bears. And we get the occasional mountain lion. If you hike, don’t go far on your own.”