Chapter One
“Damn it. Why now?” Erica Timberly slammed her palms on the steering wheel as the car engine cranked and died. She turned the key in the ignition again and pumped the gas pedal. Her heart soared as the engine sputtered encouragingly, but then the glowing lights on the dashboard blacked out.
Rain pelted her beat-up blue sedan. A flash of lightning lit up the night. Thunder boomed and seemed to shake the earth.
“Well, this is it. I have what I wanted. I’m finally on my own.” Though true, she hadn’t expected her car to break down in the middle of nowhere during a rainstorm. The check-engine light had flashed on a few hours earlier, but she continued driving, desperate to get as far from the city as possible. Erica stuffed her keys into her floppy oversized purse, grabbed a metal flashlight from the glove box, and popped the car hood. Wind and rain stung her skin as she hurried from the car. Mud splashed on her sneakers. She shone the light over the cooling engine, but everything looked fine to her untrained eyes. Cold shivers raced up her spine, both from fear and the rain.
Tall, imposing trees swayed in the wind, lining either side of the lone country road. Humidity thickened the air. Clouds billowed overhead, blotting out the moon and stars. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed again. Two specks of lights glowed from the distance, growing larger and brighter in the darkness.
Headlights? Crap. Rain slicked Erica from head to toe, but she managed to tighten her grip on the heavy flashlight. Though only twenty-three years old, she’d lived too long in New York City to trust a stranger blindly, and she’d learned a hard lesson about trusting men from her last boyfriend. Erica held her breath as the vehicle slowed down and drove past her, and then she grumbled a few choice words as the car pulled over onto the shoulder.
Someone stepped out of the driver’s seat and stomped toward her. The taillights lit up the tall, broad-shouldered figure like a demon coming out of the storm. A beam of white light then shot toward her as the stranger held up a flashlight.
She lifted her hand to ward off the glare, and the stranger immediately lowered the light to the open hood of her car.
“Trouble, huh?” The man looked at the engine, his voice deep and a little rough as though he was irritated to be out in the rain. “What’s the problem?”
Erica licked her lips. They stood close enough to touch, so she stepped away from him.
He turned toward her and lifted his arms in a gesture of peace. “Whoa. Hold on. I’m not here to hurt you. It looks as though you could use some help. I’m no mechanic, but your car is stuck in several inches of mud. You’re not getting out of here tonight. If you’re having engine trouble, too, then you’re in one hell of a pickle.” He lowered the hood and snapped it shut. “No need to get water in there. That will only damage the engine more. Do you need a ride, or is someone coming to pick you up?”
Erica would have loved a ride, but she shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine. I’ll just camp out in the car until morning. When it’s daylight, I’m sure I’ll be able to get the car working. The mud will have dried, in any case.”
“Oh sure, because daylight is a cure-all for broken-down vehicles.”
She frowned at his smart-ass retort. “All right then. How about this? I don’t accept rides from strange men in backwoods towns at night. For all I know, you could be a sadistic murderer looking for your next victim. Well, I’m through being a victim, so you can take your offer of help and shove it up your ass.”
His eyebrows lifted straight to his hairline, and then he burst into laughter.
Erica fumed and stood so straight her back ached. Goosebumps mauled her bare arms and legs; her tank top and capri pants were plastered to her body. Wet hanks of blonde hair clung to her face, and she pushed the locks behind her ears. Her teeth chattered, and she clenched her jaw to suppress the reflex. She trembled all over. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to indulge in a crying jag even though the rain would have washed away the tears.
He grinned and rubbed his hand over his wet face. “My name is Dylan Haynes. I’m a music teacher and a volunteer fireman. I live a few miles away in a little town called Willow Springs. If you need a reference about my character, I’ll call my mom and a dozen other people in town. None of them will call me a sadistic killer. I promise.”
“Well, of course a psycho wouldn’t tell his mother about his extracurricular activities.”
“You’ve got a point there. How about the sheriff or the fire chief? They trust me.”
Thunder cracked the sky again, and the fight in Erica dwindled away. She slumped her shoulders and lowered her head, desperate for a hot shower and a warm bed. “Is there a hotel and a garage in Willow Acres?”
“Willow Springs,” Dylan corrected. “There’s a bed-and-breakfast, but it’s more like an old-fashioned inn. There’s a garage too. My friend Tad owns it. I’ll give him a call and see if he can tow your car into town in the morning. I can drop you off at the inn. Sound good?”
Erica took a deep breath as she stared at Dylan’s face.
Rain plastered his short dark hair to his head, and a few wayward locks clung to his forehead. His sharp patrician nose angled a little to the left as though he’d once broken it.
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Erica cast her gaze down his body, trying to jog her memory of where she’d seen this man. Even though she couldn’t see the color of his eyes through the shadowy darkness surrounding them, she would bet money his irises were sky-blue.
“Listen, Miss. If you wanna talk, that’s fine, but we’re getting soaked out here. You mind if we chitchat in my car?”
Erica bit her lip in indecision, but then nodded. “Okay. I need to get my things.” She spun back to her sedan and opened the driver’s side back door. Dylan followed her, so Erica handed him both of her large travel bags. She stuffed the flashlight in her purse—she would need the impromptu weapon if Dylan tried to get handsy—and then she grabbed her black violin case. After she locked up the vehicle, she followed Dylan to his car, and they stored her belongings in the trunk. Relief nearly overwhelmed her as she climbed into the dry, warm passenger seat.
“Here. Take this.” Dylan reached into the backseat, grabbed a sweater, and handed it to her. Then he cranked the engine, and heat blew from the vents in the dash. “Damn, I just remembered I have a blanket in the trunk. Want me to get it for you?”
“No, the sweater is fine. Thank you. The heat feels nice.” Erica shoved the navy-blue zip-up garment over her head, fluffed it around her chest, and stroked her fingertip down the embroidered fire department logo on the upper left side. She leaned back on the upholstered seat and clutched her purse in her lap, but her grip loosened as she relaxed.
Dylan pulled the car onto the road. “You know, I usually like knowing the name of the women I give rides to.”
She smiled at the slow, playful drawl in his voice. “Erica Timberly.”
“Nice to meet you, Erica.” He flicked his gaze toward her, a smile on his lips, and then turned back to stare out the windshield. Despite the bombardment of rain, he seemed to navigate the road with ease. “How did you end up way out here? Tourists come by this way all the time, but I get the feeling you’re not here for the beautiful Vermont landscape.”
“True. I’ve never been to Vermont until today. I gotta tell you, I’m not impressed.”
Dylan laughed. “Wait until morning. Once you see my little town, you’ll never want to leave. I left a while back, and although I enjoyed seeing a bit of the big, bad world, there’s no place like home.”
Erica scoffed at that. She couldn’t help herself.
“You don’t agree?” Dylan slowed the vehicle as he rounded a curve.
“No, I agree. For some people, home is heaven. For me, home means yelling, fighting, and people stabbing you in the back.”
“Is that what you’re running away from?”
“Running?”
He shrugged, but tension suddenly filled the air. His voice gentled. “You have a black eye, Erica. Your travel bags are stuffed to the point of bulging.”
Erica touched her face, the bruise still sore from where Phil had hit her, and she dropped her hand. Silence stretched between them.
Every nasty word Phil had shouted at her the last time they spoke played through her mind. Fat. Stupid. Money-grubbing whore. She’d called Phil an asshole and told him she never wanted to see him again. Then he punched her in the face, knocked her down, and kicked her in the stomach. As she writhed in pain, he screamed at her, blaming her for upsetting him, and then he left the apartment. After she cried on the floor, Erica dragged herself to the bedroom and packed her things. She’d put up with Phil and his damn temper for almost a year, and she feared he would hit her one too many times and finally kill her if she didn’t get out.
Erica sighed, closing her eyes, and softly sang the chorus to her favorite song. The words had always moved and inspired her, soothed her in times of distress, and offered the hope she needed.
“How do you know that song?”
Dylan’s rough tone snapped Erica from her reverie. She blinked at him and pursed her lips. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was singing aloud. It’s my favorite song, and I always sing it to myself when I’m stressed or hurt. It’s called ‘No Way Home.’ Do you know it?”
“Yup, I should say I do.”
Erica narrowed her gaze at him, again thinking he looked familiar, and then recognition clicked in her mind. “Oh my God!” She bolted upright in the seat and openly gawked at him. “You’re that Dylan Haynes, the drummer for Fortune’s Glory.”
“Ex-drummer. I’m surprised you recognize me.”
“Wow. I must really be off my game tonight. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you as soon as you stepped out of your car.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of where they left her sedan. “I thought you looked a little familiar, but bells should’ve rung in my head when you said your name. I’m just stressed and not thinking clearly. Anyway, I love your band. I’ve gone to several of your shows back in New York. I would always take the night off from work to see you perform.”
“You’re a New Yorker, huh?”
“No, I’m from Jersey, but I lived in the city for a while.”
Dylan stared straight ahead and shifted in his seat as though her excitement and shock unnerved him.
Erica couldn’t believe her surprising good fortune. Her favorite musician from her favorite alternative rock band stopped to help her after one of the worst days of her life. And to think I wanted to sleep in the car! She chuckled at that.
Though Fortune’s Glory had broken up the year prior, she still listened to their two indie CDs and wore the band T-shirts she’d bought at the clubs where they’d performed.
Fortune’s Glory had signed with a small independent record label for five years and once toured the East Coast from Maine to Florida, but they never made it big in the national spotlight. The band found a new drummer after Dylan called it quits, but then the record label dropped them a few months later. Fortune’s Glory disbanded and faded from the New York music scene.
Erica fiddled with the hem of Dylan’s lightweight sweater. Though she wanted to ask him a dozen questions about his life, the band, and music in general, he seemed uneasy with her newfound realization. She turned back to the window, not wanting to upset him.
Streetlights penetrated the darkness as they likely entered the city proper. Houses, buildings, and countless trees popped up on each side of the road.
Dylan drove down a few streets and then drew to a stop at the curb. “Here we are.”
She pressed her nose to the cold car window to get a good look at the inn.
A large three-story Victorian house sat atop a slight hill. Light beamed from a few upstairs windows in the old house and from a light fixture on the covered wraparound porch.
She glanced back at Dylan. “Are you sure about this place? It looks kinda creepy.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure. The new owner, Nathan Harte, inherited Deerbourne Inn last year and remodeled it. There’s a restaurant attached to the far side of the inn, and the food is damn good. Nate once worked as the head chef at a five-star restaurant in New York, so he serves only the best.”
“Are there no rinky-dink motels around here?”
“Sorry, it’s this or nothing.”
Erica tightened her hand on her purse. The credit cards in her wallet would cover what she assumed would be a high price for a room, but since Phil likely knew someone who could track her down if she left a paper trail, she had to use cash.
Before she left Phil’s apartment, she’d flipped the mattress upside down and dug out some of the money Phil had stored inside it. She’d loaned him almost five thousand dollars in little increments at a time over the past year, and he refused to pay her back. Though she found around twenty thousand dollars stuffed in the mattress—for a rainy day, he’d once told her—she took only the amount he owed her.
Erica shivered. Phil would be furious when he found both her and the money gone, but she couldn’t let that bother her. “All right. I guess the inn is better than my car.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door.
Dylan hopped from the vehicle and hurried toward the trunk. Rain still poured as he handed her the violin case and grabbed her bags, and they rushed down a small path through the yard to the porch.
She fisted the doorknob and jerked, but the thick oak barrier barely budged. “Damn, it’s locked. What am I gonna do now?” Frustration crashed over her, and she suspected she would have to camp out on the porch.
Dylan wiped his feet on the doormat, cleaning off his muddy shoes, and she followed suit. Then he pressed a button on the console beside the door. A buzzer echoed around them. “That should wake Nate up. He lives on-site.”
Erica grimaced. Though she needed a room, she didn’t want to get on the owner’s bad side by waking him up so late. She glanced at her wristwatch in the porch light—it was a few minutes after one o’clock in the morning—and silently cursed.
The door suddenly cracked open about two inches, and a chain pulled taut between the door and the frame.
Someone peered out through the crack. “Who’s there?”
“Hey Nate. It’s Dylan Haynes. I found a woman stranded outside of town, and she needs a room for the night.”
The door shut, the chain rattled, and then the door swung wide open.
Erica and Dylan crossed the threshold and hurried to the registration counter on the right side of the wide hallway.
Nate closed and locked the door. The tall, well-built man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hid a yawn behind his hand. Dressed in pajamas, he tunneled his fingers through his thick chestnut-brown hair as he approached the counter.
Dylan dropped her travel bags on the floor and wiped the sleeve of his T-shirt across his forehead. The rainwater on his face barely moistened the already-wet fabric. Raindrops dripped slowly, almost sensually down the defined muscles of his forearms. His long pants hung a little loose around his hips, but encased his ass like a second skin.
Erica diverted her gaze, her indecent thoughts heating her cheeks. Though she’d grown surprisingly comfortable with Dylan during the short car ride into town, she no longer cared to make small talk and only wanted some time alone to unwind from her long, stressful day. She breathed deeply and glanced around the hall.
Paintings hung on the wood-paneled walls, and the frames gleamed from the overhead lights. A desktop computer, a phone, and an old-fashioned wood-handled bell occupied the tall counter. Arched doorways on either side of the hall led to a parlor on the right and what looked like an office/media room on the left. The scent of flowers wafted from each room.
Nate coughed as though for Erica’s attention, and she whipped her gaze to his. His line of sight shifted between her and Dylan before landing on the latter. “What happened to you two? Get caught in the rain?”
“Sort of.” Dylan introduced Erica to Nathan, and then he rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced down at the hardwood floor. “Sorry for the late hour and for dripping water all over the place. Erica’s car broke down, so she’s stranded. You got anything available?”
“Don’t worry about the water.” Nate shifted his gaze back to Erica. A sympathetic smile crossed his lips. “Car trouble is a nightmare, but in the middle of a storm? Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Yeah, I’ve got some rooms free.” He powered up the computer, clicked a few buttons on the keyboard, and stated the price. “I’m giving you a discount since you’ve arrived so late. Your room is upstairs and has a great view of the mountains in the west.”
“Sure. Thanks. Whatever you have is fine. I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Harte.” Erica could manage the discounted price for a single night, but she inwardly cringed at what the regular price would probably be. She dug through her purse and pulled out several bills.
“Call me Nate. We’re pretty casual around here.” Nate accepted the money, stored it in the register, and then handed her the change, the receipt, and an old-fashioned brass key. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room.”
She stuffed the change and slip of paper in her wallet. “Thanks a lot.”
“Breakfast is from seven to nine for registered guests only, but it’s not part of the purchase of the room. It’s in the Red Clover Café, on the other side of the inn. The only TV and Internet hook-up is in the media room. Feel free to use it if you like.” Nate nodded toward the room across from the registration area.
Erica glanced again at the proffered room, noting a few chairs and tables in the darkness. She clutched the key like a lifeline as exhaustion leadened her arms.
“Well, I guess that’s it. I hope everything works out for you, Erica.” Dylan hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants as she faced him. He glanced over his shoulder toward the exit and then met her gaze. “I’ll call Tad for you in the morning. The garage is down on Mill Road, maybe two blocks away, and you can easily walk to it.”
The hallway light shone over Dylan’s handsome features, and Erica still couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him at first sight, despite the rain, darkness, and her raw nerves. His irises were just as blue as she expected, and she could fall into the sensual depths like hundreds of girls had before her. That thought sobered her, and Erica forced a smile. “Thank you, Dylan. If you hadn’t stopped to help me out, I would be shivering right now in my car.”
He grinned. “Well, I couldn’t have slept tonight knowing I’d abandoned someone on the side of the road. Anyway, maybe I’ll see you later.”
“I’d like that.” Erica sighed as Dylan turned and left the inn.
Nate locked up behind him and then grabbed her bulky blue-and-purple travel bags.
Though Dylan rescued her from a cramped, uncomfortable night in her car and would call for a tow in the morning, Erica didn’t expect to see him again. She’d attended far too many of Dylan’s concerts, and he never once noticed her. Of course, why would he? She couldn’t compare to the skimpily dressed hotties and sex-starved groupies he’d normally made out with. Dylan probably wouldn’t think of her again after she left Willow Springs.
Erica picked up her violin case and followed Nate to her room.
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