“I’m a guy, Gabby. A few pairs of jeans, some shirts, workout clothes, and I’m good. It’s women who need every stitch of clothing they’ve ever owned for a weekend trip.”

She smirks and tilts her head to the side, sizing me up. Why it suddenly matters to me what the thoughts running through her gorgeous little head are, I’m not sure.

But it does matter. A lot.

“Is he here?” The screen door slams as a little boy comes crashing out of the house and races down the steps. “You’re here!”

“I’m here,” I reply with a grin. “And you’re Sam.”

He offers me a wide, toothless smile. “You talked to me on the phone,” he says.

“I remember.” I also remember the twenty minutes of non-stop intelligent questions from this adorable kid. “How are you, Sam?”

“Good.” Suddenly shy, he moves to his mom’s side and tucks himself under her arm. She doesn’t have to bend far to kiss his head.

“Do you want to help me show Rhys to his room?” Gabby asks Sam, who lights up and nods.

“Sure! You get the best room in the whole house.” He walks over and takes my duffel, as though it’s as natural as breathing, and with not a little effort, turns to lead us inside.

“I can take my bag, Sam.”

“I got it. I’m trying to pay off another broken window.” He cringes then climbs the stairs. “Mom says this is part of my job.”

I raise a brow at Gabby, who just smiles and shrugs. “He’s broken four windows in five months.”

“How?” I ask as we follow the little boy who looks so much like his gorgeous mother.

“I’m really good at baseball, just like you,” he informs me seriously.

“And sometimes the baseballs end up through my windows.” Sam is huffing and puffing from the effort of carrying my heavy duffel, so Gabby takes it from him. “That’s far enough. You can mark a dollar off what you owe.”

Sam smiles triumphantly and I take the bag from Gabby.

“You’re our guest.”

“If you think I’m going to let you haul around my sh—crap—you’re not as smart as you look.”

Her mouth twists and I can see that she’s trying to decide if she’s going to let me get away with being a sexist ass, but she’s interrupted when Sam announces, “You can say shit. I’ve heard it before.”

“Sam!”

I chuckle, but hide my smile behind my fist as I fake a cough.

“What? I have!”

“Well, you can’t say it,” Gabby says sternly.

“I can’t say what?” Sam asks with a delighted giggle.

“Come on, smarty pants, let’s show Rhys his room.” She sighs defeatedly, but when Sam turns around, she lets the grin spread over her face, and my heart stills.

She’s stunning.

“You get to be in the attic,” Sam informs me as he stomps on the stairs ahead of us. “We saved it for you.”

“Is the inn full?” I ask politely, bringing up the rear, and trying not to watch too closely as Gabby’s ass sways back and forth while she climbs the stairs.

“We’re full most of the season,” Gabby replies. “Guests come and go during the day. I serve breakfast in the dining room between seven and nine every morning. If you give me a heads up, I can provide you with lunch and dinner as well.”

“We just finished cleaning all the rooms,” Sam says as he climbs another set of stairs.

“You clean this whole place yourselves?”

“No,” Gabby replies with a smile. “I hire two women to come in daily to freshen the rooms and bathrooms. I am the inn keeper, and the cook.”

“I’m helping clean to pay off the window,” Sam informs me and opens a door. “And this is your room.”

“This is the Loraleigh room,” Gabby says as she points to the sign beside the door and hands me a key. “Each suite is named after a different woman from the family, and has a unique scent and décor.”

“Where is the Gabby room?” I ask.

“Ancestor women,” she clarifies. “The bathroom is through there. This is how you adjust the temperature. If you need anything, let us know.”

“Let’s go play catch!” Sam exclaims.

“Hold it,” Gabby replies before I can say anything. Watching her with her son is fascinating. “Rhys is our guest, and he’s had a long trip. So we are going to let him be, Samuel Beauregard. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods and turns his big brown eyes to me. “Sorry, sir.”

“How about if we play catch later?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I need to practice, and I could use a practice partner,” I reply and smile.

“Yes!” Sam high-fives me, then runs down the stairs.

“Really, Rhys, I don’t expect you to indulge my son. He’s just really excited that you’re here.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Her smile brightens as she looks out the door where Sam just left. “He’s the best.” She clears her throat and steps out, pulling the door closed behind her. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When she’s gone, I drop my bag on the bench at the end of the bed and turn a circle, taking it all in. The king-sized bed is covered in a blue quilt, obviously hand-sewn long ago. The furniture is dark brown and heavy. Wide windows are open and look out of the front of the house to the line of old oaks. The shade from the trees has kept the room cool, and a breeze is blowing through.