“What are you doing?”

“Redecorating. What does it look like?”

“Looks like you’re painting the lawn pink.”

Miss Gina straightened and admired the large box she’d managed to draw.

“I think that’s big enough . . . don’t you?”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“A house.”

Melanie blinked a few times. “A what?”

Miss Gina rested her hands on her hips. “No kitchen. I don’t need a kitchen,” she started to ramble. “Just a bedroom, bathroom . . . a living space with a fireplace. Simple space.”

The box on the lawn took a different shape in Melanie’s head.

“You’re adding a guest house?”

Miss Gina lifted her hands in the air and motioned in air quotes. “Additional guest quarters.”

“But the inn isn’t booked up again until—”

Miss Gina waved her off. “This isn’t for guests. Well, officially . . . for taxes and anyone who asks, yeah . . . guests. But it’s for me.”

“You have a room—”

Miss Gina pointed her can of pink spray paint back toward the ground and splattered pink everywhere. “The innkeeper’s room is for the innkeeper . . . that would be you. I need my own space. I deserve my own space, don’t you think?”

A chill shimmered over Melanie’s spine. Equal amounts of uncertainty and unexpected pleasure clamored for space inside her head.

“Well shit . . . I forgot a closet.”

“Wait . . . what if things don’t work out?”

“I should probably have two closets, right? One in the bedroom and another in the living room. Something for storage?”

Clearly, Miss Gina was planning on an extended stay in her not a guest room guest room. But what if Melanie sucked at being an innkeeper? What if Hope became too much trouble for Miss Gina? Already Miss Gina had played surrogate grandmother, though she preferred the title of aunt to grandma. Hope already gravitated to Miss Gina’s side of the room whenever she was close by.

“Mommy, look who I found.” Hope bounded toward them, her hand caught in Wyatt’s. “See, I told you they were out here.”

Wyatt kept up with Hope’s energetic stride as she tugged him toward the backyard.

“Right on time. I hope you brought a tape measure,” Miss Gina said.

“I have one in my truck.”

“What are you doing, Miss Gina?” Hope asked once they stopped short of the painted box on the ground.

Melanie lifted her gaze to Wyatt’s and shivered. His smile caught in his eyes and warmed her belly. The image of him standing there holding her daughter’s hand didn’t go unnoticed. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, staring.

She should have felt the need to squirm; instead she squared her shoulders and let him look his fill. She wore blue jeans and a button-up blouse, but he still looked at her as if she were dressed in the little black dress she’d worn the night before.

“You said it was an emergency, Miss Gina.”

“It is. This needs to be done before fall sets in and the rain keeps you from finishing it.”

Wyatt finally looked away. “What needs to be done?”

Miss Gina waved her hands wide. “Isn’t it obvious? I need a guest house.”

“A guest house isn’t an emergency. Broken pipes, yes . . . new construction—”

“Don’t bicker with me.” She pointed the spray paint at him with a shake of her wrist. “We need to jump on this and I want you to do the job.”

“A guest house?”

“More guest quarters. I don’t need a kitchen. Well, maybe a tiny kitchen. A refrigerator for my lemonade.”

Melanie chuckled.

“Can you build a whole house?” Hope asked Wyatt.

He offered a simple nod.

Hope swung her head, her ponytail smacking Wyatt’s arm. “Wow. Can I help? I’m a good helper.”

“Hope, I don’t think—”

“Of course you can. How about you run to my truck and bring me my pad of paper and the pencil sitting on the passenger seat.”

And she was gone, running around the inn to fill his request.

“She doesn’t jump that fast to help me out,” Mel said.

“Your daughter loves me, what can I say?” He ran a hand through his hair with a smirk.

“If you two are done flirting, we can get on with this.” Miss Gina walked to the far side of her box and started her list. “One bedroom, full bath with a closet. The walk-in kind . . .”

Hope rushed back to Wyatt’s side, out of breath, and handed him his papers.

He ruffled her daughter’s hair and turned his attention to Miss Gina. Instead of insisting Hope find something to do other than bug Wyatt, Melanie left her to him and walked back inside the inn.

There were rooms that needed cleaning. It was time to start making sure she was doing the job she was getting paid for. Since arriving in River Bend, Melanie had spent more time socializing than working.

As the afternoon wore on, she’d occasionally glance outside and find Wyatt placating her daughter by handing her a tape measure or something equally as safe. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was entertaining her daughter as a way of working his way closer to her. Not that he needed the help. Thinking about the man had become an hourly pastime since his almost kiss on the track field. What kind of kisser would he be? The good kind, she imagined. The thought alone gave her butterflies. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed.