Page 6 of Fallen Hearts

3

PIA

There was no help for it. I had to go to the inn and talk to the son. Showing up at a job I may or may not have any longer, less than a week after the guy’s dad died, wasn’t high on my to-do list, but what option did I have?

After Delaney told me that Mr. Bennett had a heart attack and died suddenly last week, I’d honestly had no idea what to do next. She said the entire community had come out for the funeral, that he had been both respected and well-liked, having lived in Cedar Falls his whole life. Delaney also said he’d run the inn himself, but that his son was in town and was probably the person I needed to talk to about next steps.

Had I packed up my life on the west coast and come here for nothing?

I felt like a selfish asshole worrying about it when the poor man was dead. He seemed like such a nice guy, genuinely concerned about the fate of Heritage Hill and wanting to turn it around. I’d worked for bad bosses before, and it sucked. One of them passed me over for a promotion that had gone to a man much less qualified, and it still burned my butt. That Mr. Bennett and I jived so well had been one of the deciding factors in taking this job. And now he was gone.

Life truly was unpredictable and cruel, sometimes.

Turning the corner, I followed my navigation and estimated it was not too far ahead on my left. Mr. Bennett had assured me I didn’t really need a car right off the bat since the apartment in town was a short walk to the inn. He’d even offered me a room so I didn’t need to leave the inn at all, but sometimes it was good to have a little separation from work.

Pictures didn’t do it justice.

Just ahead, right on the lake, was the old mansion that was Heritage Hill. I knew from my research that it had originally been built as a private residence in the late 1800s, and then added onto and restored nearly twenty years ago, expanding to the inn that loomed in front of me. With a large circular porch off to the right that looked almost like an attached gazebo, the massive structure framed with trees in every shade of now-fading autumn colors, Heritage Hill was everything I’d envisioned.

Though it was showing signs of aging, with some updates, a little focus and the right marketing, there was no reason it couldn’t be the crown jewel of Cedar Falls. With enough land to accommodate wedding parties—something Mr. Bennett said wasn’t currently on their list of services—the historic inn had every chance to turn around its finances and be as successful as Mr. Bennett said it had been when he’d inherited the property from his own father.

Heritage Hill just needed a little TLC.

Having talked myself into coming, now that I stood on the wraparound porch of the inn I was supposed to manage, I froze up. How could I possibly knock on the door and wait for the son to answer? What the hell would I say to him? Sorry about your dad, do I still have a job?

Maybe I’d come back tomorrow.

Good plan.

Turning around, I was two steps away when the door behind me opened.

Crap. I’d been totally snagged.

“Can I help you?”

I turned back. Standing in the doorway was a good-looking guy, probably my age-ish, around thirty, with short brown hair. He certainly didn’t look like his dad had just passed away. The guy was grinning at me in a way that made it impossible not to smile back.

“My name is Pia Russo. I’m so sorry about your father. I just?—”

“Not my dad,” he said. “But thanks.”

Not my dad? What did that mean?

“Excuse me?” I walked back toward the door. “He wasn’t your father?”

Delaney had said the son was in town and Heritage Hill had been closed for the week. He was the right age, so obviously this was the guy.

“Nope. My father is a complete asshole. Papa Bennett, the total opposite. Great guy.”

“I see.” Except I didn’t, at all. Was Mr. Bennett his stepfather?

“Parker,” a voice said from inside the house. “Who are you talking to?”

The door opened all the way. Another guy, about the same age, looked me up and down. Also good-looking, this one had dirty blond, almost surfer-looking hair. With scruff on his face and a smile that was only a breath away from leering, he positively screamed ladies’ man. I was pretty sure if I stood on the porch long enough, he’d be asking for me to come inside to use one of the bedrooms for a little fun. Though he was extremely attractive, I wouldn’t fall for a guy like that if someone paid me a million dollars. How many hearts had this guy broken? And why was he, too, smiling like he hadn’t just lost his father?

So this was Mason Bennett. Great.

“Hi, you must be Mason. I’m really sorry about your father.”

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