you have luggage?”
“Yes, but not here.” Sienna had left her suitcase with the hotel’s bellman in Aspen this morning. She supposed it was still there and figured she’d have to drive back over at some point to retrieve it. But she wasn’t ready for another potential confrontation with Kevin. “I picked up toiletries at the grocery store.”
“I can lend you some clothes.”
“That would be interesting.” Paige was at least four inches shorter than Sienna and curvy like some throwback pinup girl from the forties. “Since you’re new at this whole innkeeper thing, I should tell you that in normal circumstances you wouldn’t offer your clothes to a paying guest.”
“Not to assume too much,” Paige said, inclining her head, “but do you think these are normal circumstances for either of us?”
Sienna blew out a breath. “No.”
“Please stay,” Paige said, then gave a nervous laugh. “That sounded desperate. I don’t mean it like that.” She laughed again. “Except I sort of do. This was my grandma’s house.” She gestured to the ramshackle but still charming lodge with faded rough-sawed logs notched together and deep green shutters bordering the windows on the front. “My mom inherited it when Grammy died last year, and I convinced her to let me get it up and running again.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sienna said automatically.
“Thank you,” Paige whispered. “It’s beautiful out here...but also quiet.”
Sienna nodded, looking around the cul-de-sac. There were a few houses at the top of the street, where she’d turned onto Ivy Lane, but The Bumblebee’s property was clearly the largest and most private.
“Grammy had five acres,” Paige said, as if reading her thoughts. “It borders the old ski resort in back. We even have a view of the main chairlift. It hasn’t operated for years, although some developer bought the property recently. My grandma fought like crazy with the old owner about selling this place and making it part of the resort. I’m hoping the new owner will be more friendly and that The Bumblebee will be in the right place to cater to skiers or families vacationing in Crimson.”
“Smart move,” Sienna murmured.
Paige beamed at her. “Thank you for saying that. My family thinks I’m crazy. I’m not exactly following the path they expected me to take.”
There was something in the woman’s gaze—a combination of hope and fear with a healthy dose of uncertainty and pride mixed in—that Sienna imagined she might see in her own eyes when she looked in the mirror.
“I’ll stay,” she said. If Sienna was going to forge her own way in life, she had to start taking some risks in order to figure out what she wanted that life to be. Somewhere between Kevin’s butt and the ride in Cole’s Jeep, she’d decided the time had come to take charge of her life on her own terms.
And Colorado, far away from her mother, seemed like a better place to spread her wings than in Chicago, tethered by the constraints of her regular life. Maybe she’d actually forge a relationship with her dad and brother instead of the awkward face-offs she imagined. The thought made panic spike in her belly, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. One step at a time.
Whether a risk or an adventure, coming to Crimson as the inaugural guest at The Bumblebee B&B seemed like the right move on her new journey. It would be interesting to see where it took her.
* * *
“One more refill.”
Sienna grabbed the red plastic cup from Paige’s hand and filled it to the brim.
“Too much.” Paige grimaced, shaking her head. “You could put a Russian under the table with the amount of vodka in that.”
“It’s mainly lemonade,” Sienna argued, then hiccuped. “I swear.”
Paige rolled her eyes but took a sip. “It’s good.”
“Told you so.” Sienna took a long drink from her cup. “An added bonus is that it makes this place look a lot better.”
“True,” Paige agreed and both women turned from the long butcher-block island in the kitchen to survey the house.
The kitchen opened onto a cozy family room in which all the furniture was shoved up against one wall. Half the wood floor had been ripped up after the plumber found a slow leak that had caused damage to the foundation. The Bumblebee’s minor plumbing project now looked like it would stretch out at least a week, if not longer.
Paige had immediately started hyperventilating when she’d been given the news this afternoon. Sienna had shoved the novice innkeeper into a chair, found a paper bag for her to breathe into, then gotten a contractor recommendation from the plumber.
“You’re the guest,” Paige had said, wheezing into the bag. “You shouldn’t be—”
“I’ll manage,” Sienna assured her. Besides, the more she focused on Paige’s problems, the less time she had to think about her real reason for this impulsive trip to Crimson—confronting her dad after twenty years of no contact between them.
Plumbing issues were way less trouble than family drama.
Once Paige had calmed down, she’d insisted on making dinner, which consisted of an array of surprisingly delicious frozen appetizers heated in the oven. Sienna had searched through the cabinets until she’d found a decent bottle of vodka.
“Grammy liked a little nip before bed,” Paige explained.
Sienna had concocted a hard lemonade drink, and no matter how much vodka she added it still seemed to go down far too easily.
They’d watched a few episodes of a reality TV show about pampered pets, then Paige had pulled a disco ball strobe light out of a closet.
“Dance party!” she’d shouted and Sienna had been too blissfully numb to argue.
They’d danced for what seemed like hours, avoiding the caution tape that roped off the hole in the floor. When Sienna realized she was a sweaty and thirsty mess, she made another pitcher of hard lemonade. She smiled as she watched the bright flashes of color on the bumblebee wallpaper in the kitchen.
“This has been the funnest night ever,” Paige said, then yawned.
“Ever,” Sienna agreed without hesitation. She’d never had a night like this, one filled with laughing and dancing and ignoring all of her worries. Paige had asked a few subtle questions about what brought Sienna to Crimson but hadn’t seemed to mind Sienna’s vague answers.
Both women jumped when a loud knock sounded on the front door.
“Stupid neighbors,” Paige muttered, stumbling a little as she hopped off her stool. “I bet they called the cops again.”
“The cops?”
“The grumpy couple down the street has the local department on speed dial. If I so much as put my trash out too early, they report me. I’m guessing they think colored lights from a disco ball are the devil’s handiwork.”
