The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

Being evasive, because there’s no need to share more with a stranger, however friendly, I say, “I’m just here for a few weeks, probably. Then it’s home to rent, bills, and civilization.”

“I’m glad you’re here during my stay, Miss Rachel,” he says smoothly.

Oh, no.

I’m blushing.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to flirt with me or what. I’m not even sure how to feel about it except maybe I kinda like it...

It’s not every day a girl gets hit on by guys with fire looks, brains, and decent personalities, after all.

“I’m looking forward to having a look around town. Like I said, this excursion of mine is basically at my leisure.” He lifts a brow. “I could spend more time in Dallas...if I find anything especially appealing.”

Yep, he’s flirting, and I am burning down.

Even if his innuendo feels a tad lame, he’s so good-looking I can be generous.

Last I checked, I’m still a young woman with a pulse.

Oh, I’ve dated, and even had a steady boyfriend in college, but it’s been a while.

Totally by choice.

Overall, I’m not interested in having a man uprooting my life. Not before I’m settled in my career and I’ve finally upgraded to a place big enough for a puppy.

“I’ve spent some time dabbling in antiques professionally,” he says, finding an excuse to linger. “That’s why I’m traveling the backroads of America for treasures and sightseeing.”

“Oh, like that show with those guys from Iowa.” I smile. “Sounds like a lot of fun. You must get around.”

I’ve watched it for years; I just keep the name to myself. I’m not sure I want to reveal just how big of an antiques nerd I truly am.

I’m glad for his explanation, though.

I don’t like feeling on edge, and his interest in old stuff explains his statement about finding things that he’s interested in.

It’s also a touch embarrassing that I’m letting this random guy chat me up.

Chalk it up to my new role at the front desk, plus Weston’s ridiculous antics and crap-flinging yesterday.

Also, I’m still a little uneasy welcoming strangers into what used to be a lovely private home swirling with happy memories.

“Exactly,” he says. “And I’ll be honest, I’d be interested in seeing more pieces like this table, if your grandmother has anything similar around.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, but I’ll ask once she’s home and settled again. She just got out of the hospital, so...it could be a little while,” I say slowly.

I’m not an overly trusting person and a pretty face doesn’t lobotomize me. I don’t expand on the subject.

He gives me an understanding smile.

“Your room is upstairs, Mr. Hudson, right at the end of the hall. Just look for the sign that says Cockpit Room.”

He glances at the wide staircase.

Nothing about him suggests he can’t climb the stairs, but I still gesture at the wall beside the staircase and the corner bend.

“There’s an elevator right around the corner if you need it.” The elevator was installed to meet accessibility standards, along with the ramp on the side of the big front porch.

He nods, but those hawkish eyes cut through me.