Page 8 of Vamp
“Thanks...” I took a quick peek at the nametag pinned to her shirt. “Claire. I really appreciate it.”
The tips of her ears burned red at my use of her name. “Of course. Sure. Any time.” Her eyes darted all around, like she was struggling to maintain eye contact now that she knew who I was, so I decided it was best to get the ball rolling.
“I have a reservation under Roy Gates.”
It was the alias I always used when I was on the road. It was a name Alma had come up with years ago because she got a real kick out of the fact people were always screwing up my first name. She picked Gates because she’d been so sure that it was only a matter of time before I became famous, and once that happened, I’d be pulling in Bill Gates money. Keeping that alias was one of the many ways I tried keeping Alma with me, even the tiniest pieces, after I lost her.
Claire’s brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned, then she gave herself a light smack on her forehead. “Of course, you wouldn’t have one under your actual name,” she said in a tone that screamedduh.
“Yeah. I kind of like my privacy. Found using a fake name made that easier.”
She hit me with a bright, cheery smile. “I totally get that.” She turned and plucked a key from the rows of hooks on the wall behind her before whipping back around to face me. “And don’t worry, Mr. Black—I mean Gates.” She gave me an over the top wink. “No one’s gonna hear it from me that you’re in town, and I’ll do my best to run interference. You know, at least while I’m on shift. But when it’s not me down here, it’s my mom or dad, and they’re both really discreet, so you don’t have to worry about that. You have my word.”
I took the key from her hand and tucked it into my pocket before bending to grab the handles of my duffle bag. “Appreciate that more than you know, Claire.”
She beamed and lifted on her tiptoes, doing a little hop in place. “You’re in room 204. Just head up these stairs and make a right. There’s another set of stairs at the end of your hall that will lead you down by the side door, if you find yourself in need of a sneaky exit.” She pointed to the right, indicating a set of French doors that looked like they led out to a side patio. “The Wi-Fi code is at the bottom of the room service menu, and if you’re interested, we serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining room for all our guests. You just may want to”—she circled her index finger in front of my face—“you know, wear sunglasses or something. Maybe a ballcap.”
I lifted my fingers to my forehead and gave her a mock salute. “You got it.”
“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Gates. And don’t hesitate to call down here if you need anything.”
I climbed the stairs as Claire had indicated, the old wood creaking beneath my boots with each step, and made a right down a long hallway. Antique brass sconces lit the way and cast the perfect amount of light on the black and white photos that hung on the walls. I stopped to inspect the first few photographs. They looked to be old pictures of the town from decades ago. There were a few of the inn itself, back when it was a house, and it was interesting as hell to see how things had changed over the years.
I’d barely been in town, yet I could already tell why Alma had decided to make this place her home. It was her, through and through. It had everything she’d always told me she wanted. Something that Nashville, with its “big city vibes,” had lacked.
She’d talked about finding a small, quiet town to live and raise a family in, some place where you knew all of your neighbors and everyone looked out for each other. Some place where a quick stop at the grocery store turned into an hour-long trip because everyone you ran into was a friend. That had been her dream, growing up.
She’d made at least part of that a reality. One of the first questions I’d asked Lincoln was if she was already married and had a family. All I wanted was to win her back. She was the only woman in the world for me. But if there was already a man in the picture, I refused to be the asshole who tried to tear apart a family for his own selfish reasons. If she was happily with someone, it would have gutted me, but I would have let her be. I was here because Lincoln told me there was no one else, and hearing that had caused a small kernel of hope to bloom inside me.
In the few weeks it had taken me to set this trip up, that bloom had turned into a weed that shot up in no time, wrapping itself around my insides and taking up every bit of space. That hope was so thick I could no longer see any other outcome than me winning back the woman I had never stopped loving. Not for a single second.
I couldn’t let myself think I would fail. It was a road my mind wouldn’t travel down. There was no other option for me.
I slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, stepping into the room that would be my home for the foreseeable future. I was pleasantly surprised by the space. The dark wood four-poster bed in the center wasn’t exactly my style, but the fluffy white comforter and fat pillows looked comfortable, and when I walked over to press down on the mattress, I delighted in the cozy yet firm pillow top.
Two high-backed reading chairs were near the far wall, catty-corner to the gas fireplace. Across from the bed, a tall window with a nice view of downtown and the foothills beyond allowed plenty of natural light to fill the space.
I could definitely make this work, a good thing because I’d booked the room for the next two weeks with the option to extend if necessary. And if Alma was anything like I remembered—stubborn and headstrong—it was going to take a hell of a lot longer than two weeks to win her back.
I tossed my duffle onto the bed and yanked the zipper open, ready to unpack, right as my phone began to ring.
I already knew who it was before I pulled it from my back pocket and looked at the screen. Cal had been calling non-stop for the past three days, and I’d blown his ass off every single time. I knew what he wanted, but I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit. He was pushing for me to make the album the label wanted. He was going to be in for a very rude awakening.
It had taken too many years for me to finally pull my head out of my ass, but I wasn’t going to bend. Not this time.
I swiped my thumb across the screen to answer and tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder as I scooped up a stack of T-shirts. “What?” I clipped out as I carried my clothes to the chest of drawers.
“Where the hell are you?” my manager barked in my ear, his voice thready and slightly high-pitched. “I’ve been calling for days!”
“I’m aware. I didn’t feel like talking. Still don’t, but I figured I’d say it out loud since you’re clearly not getting the message.”
“What the hell, Roan?” His voice got higher as he ranted, a clear sign he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “You can’t just ignore me.”
“Pretty sure I can, Cal. You’re my manager, not my mom, my wife, or my girlfriend; therefore, I don’t have to answer to you.”
His muffled curses carried through the line. “Since I haven’t been able to reach you, I went by your place this morning and your cleaning lady said you were out of town. What the fuck, Roan? Where are you?”
It would be a cold day in hell before I told him where I was currently staying. Not only would he throw a shit-fit I didn’t want to deal with, but I wouldn’t put it past him to blow my cover in order to corner me into doing what he wanted.