Page 1 of Accidental Mafia Witness (Small Town Mafia #2)

1

TREY

I stared at the blank screen and sighed.

It had been three days since I arrived in Gilded Lake, and I hadn't typed a single word of my next book yet. The book that was now several months overdue. Ignoring frantic calls from my agent was my new pastime. If "send to voicemail" could be a manuscript, I'd have written it by now.

The timer on my phone beeped, and I closed my laptop. The white screen had taunted me for a full hour before I slapped the lid shut and almost threw it across the room. An entire writing session of nothingness. According to my watch, it was eight am on the dot.

Time for breakfast.

Even in Gilded Lake, two states away from my home, I was trying to stick to my routine. Routine was what helped the world make sense to me. Without it, I felt untethered. After putting on my shoes, I slipped my key card into my pocket and walked briskly to the staircase. At least I was getting my steps in during my stay at the mountain resort.

As I neared the hotel restaurant, my heart sped up. I never knew if I would run into him , Walt Francesco, the reason for my writer's block and my reason for being in Gilded Lake. Walt was manager of the resort and a cousin to the head of the biggest mafia family in the region.

Walt Francesco was also one of the hottest men I'd ever seen in my life.

I quickly scanned the restaurant as I casually headed to the buffet. When I didn't see Walt, I felt both relieved and disappointed, but my stomach was rumbling and I knew a delicious plate of food would help.

Surprisingly, the food at Gilded Lake Resort was fantastic. The Francescos, the crime family who owned that property and dozens of others, were obviously foodies. Not every buffet knew how to serve eggs benedict with smoked salmon, but they did. And as soon as I found a table, I waved down a waiter to order a cappuccino.

Eating was my favorite pastime when I was stressed, and I had been plenty stressed lately.

My agent, Frannie, was constantly hounding me, which was bad enough. But the growing tightness of my pants was my greater concern. I’d never had an issue with controlling my weight, but my growing paunch told a different story. Unfortunately, my face remained pale and gaunt as I filled out in all the wrong places.

As I ate, I kept scanning the room to see if Walt might magically appear, but between bites, my distracted mind got lost in thought.

The problem with my book was my hero, Romero VanClaude. He just wasn’t speaking to me anymore.

I'd written nineteen books in my series—The Slick Six—about the gunslinging alpha and his posse who "roamed the American West looking for justice…and finding trouble instead." That was the tagline of the series, and no matter how many times I read it, I couldn't find inspiration anymore.

I opened my phone and looked over the latest cover designs Frannie had sent me. One had Romero on a horse with his shirt unbuttoned and his cowboy hat tilted toward the sun. Another showed Romero reclining by a campfire with his arms wrapped around a hot omega. And the last one was of Romero standing in front of a sunset with one hand on his gun and a sizable package displayed in the silhouette of his tight chaps.

Ugh, they all looked good, and I wasn’t in the mood to analyze images. Instead, I swiped the photos off my screen and opened my Kindle app. Sometimes reading would inspire me, so it was worth a shot.

I was partway through a steamy shifter story when I heard Walt's voice across the room. Slowly and as casually as I could muster, I turned my head and saw him talking to the host. Just like every time I caught a glimpse of the sexy man, my stomach fluttered.

He was wearing his usual black suit with a black button-down shirt and no tie. Business casual while still being sophisticated. His hair was impeccably neat and almost shone beneath the lights. Walt smiled and rested one hand on the host's stand, then his blue eyes roamed the dining room.

Before I had the chance to look away, his gaze reached me.

And just as I expected, he continued to scan the room because he didn't know I existed.

I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair. I did my best not to stare at the poor man, but my heart ached as I watched him cross the hotel lobby in long strides. Was it possible to be in love with someone you'd never spoken to?

When the waiter came for my plate, I ordered another coffee and settled in to find out what was gonna happen to the cute little shifter in my book.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I became acutely aware of a person standing next to my table.

With my heart racing, I slowly peered over my phone and saw a pair of polished black oxfords.

Walt . My stomach and heart collided as I casually set my phone down and looked up. The alpha was staring directly at me with a curious expression on his face. Before I could decide what to do or say, he extended his hand to me. "Hi, I'm Walter Francesco. I don't believe I've had the pleasure." His voice was rich and smooth, even better without several feet separating us.

I reached out and shook his hand. "Uh, hi. I’m Trey. Trey Barker. It's my pleasure, really."

His grip was firm even though his skin was baby soft. I looked to the chair opposite me. "Would you like to chance?"

He tilted his head and smiled, squinting slightly. Oh my god, what did I just say? I knew it didn't sound right, but now I couldn't remember the words that had just come out of my mouth.

Walt let out a gentle laugh that I wanted to climb on top of and ride right outta here because I could feel my face turning red. But I was still holding his hand, so I quickly let go.

He pressed his lips together as if he felt sorry for me. I must have looked like a sad loner staring at his phone for hours in the middle of a workday.

I stood up and almost knocked my chair over. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I just said. You're Walt. Walter. Yes, I know who you are. It's very nice to meet you. I love your hotel. Er, your family's hotel. But you manage it, right? That’s cool. I'm staying here, actually. Did you know that? And I just had breakfast." I was babbling, but I didn't know how to stop.

The longer he stood there with his bemused expression, the more I felt the need to dig myself out of whatever hole I'd already created. I gestured to the table, about to describe my breakfast, when Walt placed his hand on my arm, effectively silencing me. "It's okay. I just wanted to meet you. I've seen you here for a few days, and I like to meet all our guests."

Of course. He was just being a good businessman. I smiled and nodded. "Thanks. It’s nice to meet you."

He stepped around me and pulled my chair out, then expertly slipped it in beneath me as I sat down. A busboy was walking by, so Walt took the guy's water pitcher and filled my water glass for me. Without missing a beat, he handed the pitcher back to the busboy.

Walt slid my phone across the table and gave it a little tap. "Better get back to that steamy book." My cheeks burned when he winked at me before strolling away.

How long had he been standing next to my table before I noticed him? Long enough to see what I was reading, apparently. I opened my phone to see what part I'd been on and it was a super graphic sex scene. Of course.

My hands were still trembling as I picked up my newly full glass of water and took a sip. I overestimated how full it was and the ice rushed forward from the bottom of the cup, causing the entire thing to dump into my lap.

I jumped up, shocked by the cold and knocked my cup of coffee across the table. Several guests turned to see the cause of the racket. As usual, it was just me, standing here with my crotch soaking wet and the sleeve of my shirt splattered in coffee. Instinctively, my eyes scanned the dining room and Walt wasn’t around, thank god.

Before I made an even bigger fool of myself, I grabbed my sticky phone, wiped the coffee off it, and then hurried my ass out of there.

As soon as I was near the stairs, I ran up to my room and stripped off my wet clothes. Why did I have to always ruin everything? My first time talking to him could have been chill, but I managed to ramble his ear off.

Would you like to chance? That's what I asked him. Would you like to chance?? What the hell did that mean? I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

I came to Gilded Lake to try to get over Walt, but that was clearly not working.

For the past ten months, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. I’d hoped that if I met him and he had bad breath or an annoying voice or a horrible personality, it would be easier to forget about him. But so far, everything about him was the opposite of horrible.

He smelled good, his voice was amazing, and his eyes were intelligent and kind. Dammit, it looked like my writer's block wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.