Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(3)

Filthy. Oh yeah, he was probably dirty to the core.

Something deep in her belly squirmed excitedly at the thought.

“No problem,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

She’d completely forgotten to ask him about how he’d gotten in.

When she reached the first floor, the air whooshed out of her lungs and her legs wobbled. She nearly collapsed against the wall, laughing from her body’s reaction to this man. He oozed raw sex appeal. Not only from his body—though good gracious, she’d never seen a man with so many muscles—but from his caramel-colored eyes, the subtle pout of his bottom lip, the way he stood in front of her buck naked with more confidence than she had fully dressed.


Don’t get involved.

He’s staying less than a week.

She had steadfast rules about these things: no sleeping with guests. It never panned out well. Single men who stayed at the inn had propositioned her more times than she could count. They wanted flings over their vacations, something to go home and tell their buddies about. They promised to call, swore to come back and visit.

They never did. Not one of them.

Cole Turner may’ve flustered her, but she was over it…she had to be.





Chapter Two





The innkeeper was one hot piece.

Who would’ve thought?

Cole slicked back his hair, dabbed on some cologne, and checked himself in the mirror. He’d planned on going out tonight, seeing what Blue Lake had to offer in the women department, but now…he was going to stay right where he was.

Convenient.

Did Rita scope this place out before booking it? She probably thought she could keep him out of the bars and questionable pictures off the Internet by reserving somewhere with a hot host.

As the tour moved along, she was getting better and better at her job. He’d have to give her a raise.

Making his way downstairs, Cole scoped out the place where he’d be spending the next few days. The walls were painted cigar-brown with wood accents and long, draping curtains. In the living room, a large stone hearth was surrounded by leather chairs and couches, lending to the cozy cabin feel. Down the stairs and to the left, a hallway branched off—to the four bedrooms she mentioned, he supposed—and to the right, an entryway led to a large dining room. Five tables and chairs provided ample space for guests to dine; it was probably hopping in the summer.

As he made his way through the dining room, the smell of garlic and pepper struck him hard. His stomach growled.

“What’s that smell?” he said, striding into the kitchen.

Rachael jumped and spun from the sink. “Umm…steak and eggs.”

“Did I scare you again?”

“You took me off guard, that’s all.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Guests usually wait in the dining room for me to serve them.”

He pointed to a small table near the front window. “Can’t we eat here?”

She stared, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “I don’t dine with guests.”

“Why the hell not?”

“When people go on vacation, they don’t particularly want to eat with the wait staff.”

“I get that,” he said, laughing. “But I don’t like eating alone, and since I’m the only person here, I think this table will work.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re used to getting everything you want, aren’t you?”

He winked. “You nailed it.”

What he wouldn’t give to nail her. Right against the counter, on the table and floor. Untie that apron and let it fall. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander from her silky gold hair, to her full breasts, to the dip in her waist.