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her life and she was trying to fill it with something meaningful. Last night hadn’t helped, however. If anything, it’d made things worse because it had highlighted, once again, the companionship she was missing, as if watching her friends move on with their lives wasn’t difficult enough. “I never saw this coming.”
    “Neither did I,” Cheyenne admitted. “But...maybe you needed to cut loose.”
    “Thanks for looking on the bright side.” Eve took a moment to smile gratefully. Then she shoved last night into the back of her mind. They needed to get through the most challenging part of the day—and for any B and B that was pulling off a fabulous breakfast. “We’d better go help Deb.”
    Cheyenne gave her a final squeeze and they headed to the kitchen, where Eve insisted on being the one to deliver the meal trays to the guests who’d requested breakfast in their rooms. She didn’t want Cheyenne climbing such a long flight of stairs if she didn’t have to.
    Trying not to obsess about who else Noelle might be telling about her faux pas of last night, Eve hurried to Room 1 with a single tray for a Brent Taylor. B and Bs primarily hosted couples, but that wasn’t necessarily the case in Whiskey Creek. Because there were no regular motels, she rented to anyone who needed a room, and that sometimes included a husband or wife who’d been kicked out of the house or had stormed off for whatever reason, people who came to pan for gold, business travelers and others who were passing through for one reason or another.
    With her mind on returning to the kitchen for the other two trays she had to deliver to the couple in Room 5, she donned a polite expression as soon as the door opened. But the words she was about to utter—“Good morning. I hope you enjoy your breakfast”—never passed her lips.
    There, looking like he’d just stepped out of the shower, was the man who’d shared her bed last night.

3
    “H ow’d you find me?”
    When she heard the accusation in his voice, Eve realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. She was so used to being associated with Little Mary’s it took her aback that he thought
she
was the one out of place.
“What?”
    “I said, how did you find me? Did you
follow
me?”
    Judging by the impatience on his face, he wasn’t happy about that idea. Perhaps he’d connected with other women who hadn’t understood the meaning of “I’m not interested.”
    “Of course not! I would never force my attentions on you or any man.”
    His gaze shifted to the tray she was carrying. “Then how come you’re here, bringing me breakfast?”
    “I own this place! I serve a lot of people breakfast,” she said. “I had no idea you were one of my guests,
Mr. Taylor.
If you’ll remember, you told me your name was Jared.” She met most of the people who stayed at Little Mary’s. She bumped into them as they wandered around the property, enjoying the garden, walking to or from the private hot tub, sitting in the alcoves where they could watch the sunset or having breakfast or tea in the dining room. But the only place she’d ever seen Mr. Taylor was at the bar once she’d left work. She’d assumed he was at A Room with a View if he was in town. “When did you check in?”
    “Last night around seven.”
    That explained it. He’d come when Cecelia was on duty. “Meeting up again like this is...is merely an unfortunate coincidence,” she said. “But there’s a second B and B in Whiskey Creek, so you have another option. It’s called A Room with a View and it’s just down the street. You might want to move there.” She handed him his tray. “Come downstairs when you’re done and I’ll get you checked out.”
    When his eyes widened, she could tell she’d managed to surprise him, but she didn’t care. She meant what she’d said. She wanted him gone. Losing his business would cost her a few bucks, but at least she’d be able to avoid him.
    “Wait, are you kicking me