“Oh, um, well now…No. Let’s put her in the pink room.” Flossy blinked behind thick glasses and reached out a gnarled hand. “Hello there. You must be freezing. Come inside, sweets.”
Brock turned toward the polished curved staircase, ready to ditch the bags and get back to dealing with his family.
“Brock Osprey.” Flossy released the woman and slapped him ineffectually on the arm. “Your manners are better than that. Much.”
Ophelia snorted. Not so lightly, but still sexy.
Heat tinged Brock’s ears. His manners were nowhere near better than this. “Sorry, ma’am,” escaped him before he could stop the words. He partially turned. “Mrs. Floridian Veltinbelt, please meet Special Agent Ophelia Spilazi of the FBI.”
“Call me Flossy,” Flossy said, just as the agent said to call her Ophelia.
The women laughed at the same time, caught together in some weird, shared moment he’d only seen women bond over.
Instead of grumpily asking if he could now deliver the bags to the pink room, Brock forced a smile and reminded himself that he was an adult and should probably act like one. Plus, Flossy wouldn’t hesitate to grab a wooden spoon and smack him on the ear, and he had enough brain issues. “May I help with the bags and deliver them to the pink room?” he asked, tongue in cheek.
Flossy smiled, approval dancing in her faded eyes. “Of course. You’re so kind to help, Master Chief Osprey.” She leaned to the side to better see the city girl. “He reached such a high rank and became a true hero in the Navy, you know.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. He grabbed the handles of the bags with a little more force than necessary and stomped up the stairs to the third door on the left.
“He’s still a mite cranky from his time in the service,” Flossy explained, not so quietly, from the first level. “Anyhoo, welcome to my Bed and Breakfast. I have three guest rooms, but you’re probably my only guest for the rest of the season. Are you sure you want to be here for winter? I have to tell?—”
The rest was cut off as Brock entered the room. The sight of all the bright pink furnishings and white lace brightened his mood. It definitely didn’t fit the taste of the city girl in her black leather jacket and stylish boots.
The voices came closer, and Flossy brushed by him, gesturing toward the antique milk glass lamp. “That was my mama’s.”
He turned just in time to see the agent’s reaction to the room, then halted.
Genuine wonder widened the woman’s eyes as she took in all the girly pink and lace. “Oh, Flossy, it’s so beautiful.” Her husky voice hushed, and an almost childlike delight brightened her angled features.
He gaped. Pure and simple, that unguarded moment slammed into his chest stronger than a punch he’d taken from a drunk Russian while on a mission years ago. He frowned, staring at her, trying to decipher what he’d missed when taking her measure earlier.
She didn’t notice and instead headed right for the hand-crocheted doilies, perfectly arranged across the dresser. “Oh, these are lovely. Did you stitch them?”
“I did,” Flossy said, standing even taller—hitting almost five feet. “You’re so kind to notice.”
“And the quilt.” Ophelia rushed for the thick bedcover, running her hand over the colorful squares. “Did you create this?”
Flossy’s papery cheeks turned the same color as the rest of the room. “Yes. I have a quilting group. There’s not much to do around here in the winter, and we spend hours togethercreating—often sending our finished work off to shelters to warm others.” She leaned in and pointed to a square with a perfectly shaped silver owl. “My husband, God rest his soul, was nicknamed Owl because he was so observant, so I insert an owl into every quilt I ever create.”
“That’s so sweet,” Ophelia murmured, reverently looking at the perfect stitching of a brown bear in a square. “Also, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You’re a kind one, Ophelia.” Flossy patted her arm. “It’s been about thirty years, but I do still miss the man. If I added you to a quilt, I’d create a lovely and graceful gazelle.” She eyed the younger woman. “Are you sure you want to stay here for the winter? Once snow falls, there’s no way out.”
Ophelia straightened as if remembering her job. “Oh. Yes. I do.”
Flossy clapped her small hands together. “Then you really must join the quilting club. I can teach you.”
Brock steeled himself for the instant rejection, preparing to soothe Flossy’s feelings.
Ophelia bit her lip. “That’s kind, but I’m, well, not very good at that sort of thing. You know. Sewing, cooking, those types of skills.” Her voice dropped, and truth to shit, she sounded genuinely regretful.
Why hadn’t anybody taught her that stuff if she’d been interested? Brock bit his tongue. Yeah, she was sexy and hot and had legs long enough to wrap around his waist and hold tight. But this sweet side of her? It was too much. Too alluring and intriguing, and damn, he didn’t need this crap on top of the massive pile already falling on him.
Flossy hopped. “Quilting just takes practice. I promise nobody will judge you, and like I said, there’s not much more to do when the darkness falls during the winter. Just say you’ll think about it.”
“I will.” Then the woman had the audacity to smile. Really smile. Kind and genuine and beautiful.
Brock grunted. Life already tortured him enough. He had to do something about this.
