Her sly tone makes me smile. The old girl has still got some spunk.
“Normally, it’s booked up, but with it being a weekday, you may be able to get in.” She hands me back my card and slides the receipt to me.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, signing the slip. Fate’s on my side today. I take the nature of the hotel as approval from the universe. Finally, I’m catching a break.
“You find something?” Dixie asks.
“Yeah, only place around here is a bed and breakfast. Food and comfortable accommodations, can’t get better than that.”
“Good, I’m starving, and it’s been a while since I rode on a bike for so long.” She shifts her weight.
“I could help you with that if you want.”
“Shut it, Spencer,” she says with a small grin.
She’s warming to me. I rev the engine and take off headed north. Five minutes later, the place comes into view. The massive building is reminiscent of an Old Victorian mansion with its high peaked roof, large windows, and pale blue coloring with white trim.
“It’s gorgeous. Weird name though, Sweetheart’s Inn.” She frowns.
“Yeah, weird. Let’s see if we can get a room,” I reply.
We get off the bike, and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me. I can’t tell if she’s road weary or letting me in. Either way, I’ll take it. We step inside, and my attention is drawn to the massive fireplace across the room. A red old timey couch sits in front of it and on the opposite side, I see a wooden staircase.
A middle-aged woman in a crisp white button up and a severe ponytail pulled back from her oval face gives us a shaky smile. “Can I help you?” she asks.
I can see the unease in her large brown eyes. “Yes, we were looking to rent a room for the evening. We heard great things.”
“Oh, we happen to have one left. The Romeo and Juliette Suite.”
“What?” Dixie Rose mutters.
“We’ll take it.” I offer up the credit card.
She quickly gets us checked in. “Your room is the one on the very end. 512.” She slides over an old fashioned key. “If you need anything at all, my name is Anne. Dinner will be served in the dining room promptly at six o’clock, but there is a steak house about fifteen minutes up the road if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, Anne,” I say, guiding Dixie Rose away from the front desk.
“Where did you bring me?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out together.”
“You swear you didn’t know about this place?”
“How could I?” I ask.
“Hmm.”
We climb the steep stairs and walk down a hallway with a red rug that runs the middle. They pay attention to details here. It’s like we stepped back in time.
“This place is nice,” she says.
“Agreed. Let’s hope it’s not haunted.”
“You would say that,” she dryly replies.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” I pull her closer.
Dixie shakes her head.