Page 4 of Return to Lovett Cove (Lovett Cove B&B #1)

CHAPTER THREE

With a loud growl, Jasmine violently shook behind the wheel. She nearly broke her ankle in her mother’s deathtrap of a house.

And then that guy (wait, what was his name?

It didn’t matter.). Of course, he was right there to catch and slime her with his sweaty, perfect body.

She could still smell his musk—Eau de Sewer.

Rancid. Good thing he stank; it made him that much less gorgeous.

What did he say he was doing? Fixing the faucet?

Had her mother made any repairs since buying the inn? After six months, Jasmine had expected the water to be running. Her mother had claimed the renovation would be simple.

No renovation ever is, Jasmine thought with a sigh.

Jasmine followed What’s His Name as he turned onto Main Street.

Jasmine’s mouth dropped as the town of Lovett Cove opened before her.

On either side of the street were shops decorated in bright colors and old-fashioned hanging signs, restaurants with patrons sitting at outside tables to enjoy the temperate summer air.

Jasmine passed a small police station and even saw a church steeple in the background.

What’s His Name lifted a hand in a wave and made a right at the light. Good riddance, she thought as her eyes followed his truck until it turned again and went out of sight. She was left to her quest of finding this real estate agent, R. Scott, and signing the estate papers.

Oh! As soon as she grabbed a cup of coffee from the cute coffee shop she spotted just past the light.

Jasmine parked out front and hurried inside, smelling a delightful mix of fresh coffee grounds and rich chocolate.

Before she made it to the counter, an older woman with a round face, ruby cheeks, and a head full of wild, grey curls gasped and put her hands over her mouth.

“You! You must be Jasmine Grove. For a second I thought it was Lily coming back to haunt me. You look the spitting image of your mother. I’m sure you get that all the time.

Oh!” She slapped her forehead. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your loss, my dear.

” The woman rounded the counter and gripped Jasmine in a tight hug.

“Sometimes my mouth runs away and I can’t catch it in time.

Your mother would’ve haunted me, rest assured.

She told me so.” She released Jasmine and grinned.

“I’m so happy you’re here! Your mother really wanted you to visit.

Said you’d love the place, and I really hope you do. ”

“Petunia, would you let her breathe?” said another older woman behind the counter. Her hair was less grey, but her face was more oval-shaped with a sharp nose to match her look.

Petunia laughed. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Petunia, and the hawk behind me is Candace.

Have you figured out why your mother and I got along so well?

It’s because we’re named after flowers. She told me she named all her lovely daughters after flowers too.

It made us kindred spirits. She showed me pictures of you, that’s how I know you’re lovely, but of course, Lily was gorgeous, so why wouldn’t her daughters be beautiful? And of course you are!”

“Petunia! Breathe! Sweetheart, would you like to order?” Candace asked.

“Oh, yes! We can make any coffee you like, and we have a variety of baked goods. We just put out the afternoon load, so come on in and see.” Petunia hurried behind the glass counter and spread her arms wide. “Anything you like is on the house.”

“That’s kind of you, Petunia, but I don’t mind paying,” Jasmine said, her mind spinning from receiving Petunia’s greeting and having to decide between the rows and rows of delicious sweets before her. She chose tea biscuits with honey and ordered a latte.

Petunia ushered her to a table next to the window with a view of Main Street. As Jasmine savored the warm, buttery biscuits and the freshest honey she’d ever tasted, she wondered how her mother and Petunia would’ve gotten along. Petunia didn’t draw breath, and her mother wasn’t much of a talker.

In fairness, no one was probably as much of a talker as Petunia.

“I do hope you’ll stay awhile,” Petunia said when she picked up Jasmine’s empty plate a few minutes later.

“Actually, I was thinking about selling the inn.”

Petunia collapsed into the seat across from Jasmine. The plate rattled on the table. “Oh, no! You can’t sell the inn. Your mother just bought it. She had grand plans for it. It used to be a boarding house many, many years ago. Such history and elegance. Once you see it, you’ll change your mind.”

“I did see it. It’s a mess. The renovation will cost a fortune.”

“It can’t be that bad. Your mother stayed out there and said it was a charming place that only required a few touchups.”

Touchups. Right. “Either way, I can’t stay. I’m up for a promotion at work, and I need to get back.”

Petunia clasped her hands in front of her and leaned against the table. “A promotion! Sounds exciting.”

Jasmine warmed to Petunia’s enthusiasm about her job.

She wished her mother had been excited when Jasmine told her.

But all Lily could say was that she wished Jasmine wouldn’t be all about her work.

From the woman who taught her daughters to work, work, work, because a woman couldn’t count on anyone but herself.

Especially not a man.

It was one of the reasons Jasmine didn’t visit her mother in Lovett Cove before she died. Jasmine believed her mother was finally having a midlife crisis in her late fifties and would eventually give up the inn and come back to Philadelphia and reality.

“It is exciting. I’ll be a vice president in the most prestigious marketing firm in Philadelphia.”

“Penny does marketing. She’s also the town’s newspaper editor. We all kind of have two or three occupations because we’re a small town. It works.”

“Sounds quaint.”

“Oh, it is. I do hope you stay a few days, just to see what it’s like. Everyone’s real nice, too.”

Jasmine pulled out her phone and texted R. Scott that she was in town. “I’m actually trying to find the real estate agent my mother was working with.” Jasmine’s phone dinged with a text message.

How about I meet you at the coffee shop on Main? You can’t miss it.

I’m already here, Jasmine texted back.

Perfect. Be there in a few.

Jasmine set her phone down on the table. “I’m meeting the agent here.”

Petunia stood. “Then I’ll get out of your hair. I hope you enjoyed the biscuits.”

“Yes, they were amazing. The honey, too.”

“We get the honey fresh here from our beekeeper. Would you like another biscuit? On the house.”

Jasmine fingered her pants, which were already snug. “I don’t think so. I’m trying to drop a few pounds.”

Petunia dramatically leaned to the side searching for those pounds. “A few pounds? From where? Honey, you look beautiful!”

Not according to her last boyfriend. Well, not really a boyfriend because she was too busy to be in a relationship. But he admitted he’d be more attracted to her if she were five pounds lighter.

Five pounds.

At thirty-five, Jasmine couldn’t blame him. She was competing with all the stick-figured twenty-one-year olds.

Petunia harrumphed. “Real men love curves, sweetheart.” She shook her hips. “My Harold can’t keep his hands off these.”

“Where’s Harold?” Candace asked. She buffed a nearby table.

“Probably getting arrested,” Petunia said.

The chime on the door rang, and in walked…

What’s His Name.

His hair was slicked back, and he wore a fresh button-down shirt and Dockers shorts. Did he shower? He grinned when he saw her. “Jasmine.”

Jasmine crossed her arms. “Are you following me?”

Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down across from her and called an order of biscuits to Candace. He smelled of fresh rain and pine. Darn.

Of all the nerve! “Excuse you, I’m waiting for someone.” Jasmine made a point of looking out the window, expecting to see the typical high-end car an agent would drive park in front of the cafe. No cars came.

He looked out the window as well, and then his mischievous gaze met hers. “I’m the one you’re waiting for.”