“Hmm,” I replied.
“Afternoon,” came a voice from the back.
“Afternoon,” I said, following the sound of the voice. I walked past the foyer and through the dining room until I reached a kitchen filled with industrial-sized appliances.
A man stood at a sink drying his hands. I cleared my throat, and he turned around.
My pulse fluttered in my neck. It was immediate. Automatic and uncontrollable.
The guy was about six-three with muscled shoulders that looked like they were earned through work. These weren’t gym muscles. This guy chopped wood every morning for a living. Collar-length dark brown hair was brushed straight back, and his brown eyes were so intense I looked away.
His smile was way too friendly.
His white T-shirt looked soft enough to be made of velvet. Jeans were slung low on his slender hips.
My mouth dried at the very sight of him.
“Yeah, the women in town totally think he’s hot.”
Yep. He was. Too hot. Way too hot. This guy was so good-looking women probably ovulated when he gazed their way. No telling what his touch did—spontaneous pregnancy, maybe?
But I wasn’t one for a pretty face. I’d been won by them before, and it always ended in disaster.
Disaster.
“Sorry,” he said in a low rumble of a voice. There was a slight Southern accent. Not too strong, not too weak. “I would’ve come out and greeted you, but I had to finish up.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m passing through and was wondering if you had an empty room. I only need it a few nights.”
He smiled again. It was a great smile. Enough to make my knees shake. So I locked them. “You here to sightsee the ghosts?”
“No. The last thing I’m interested in is hanging out in some stupid podunk town in the middle of Alabama. I’m on business.”
The air shifted. I suddenly realized that this podunk town was where Really Hot Guy lived.
He dropped the towel on a counter. “Sorry. No vacancies.”
“We’ll see about that,” Susan said before disappearing.
“Anywhere else in town I can stay?” I said.
He studied me. I realized his eyes weren’t completely brown. There were flecks of gold in them. Not that I was staring.
“This podunk town isn’t big enough to have two bed-and-breakfasts.”
Oh, I guess I hurt his feelings. “It’s a tourist town.”
He glanced at something in the oven. “There’s a motel up the road. They have a pool.”
This guy might be hot, but he certainly wasn’t engaging. “Okay. Thanks.”
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“It’s not like I’m going to get lost before I reach the front door.”
A slight smile tinged his lips. “You must be from the big city. Atlanta?”
“DC.”
