Page 7 of Hensley Manor
“Good morning,” a young woman said, as she exited the room beside mine. Her casual sweater emphasized the bump of her belly, and as she placed a hand on the bump, I saw the massive diamond ring on her finger.
“Uh, morning,” I said, stunned.
The guy with her smiled and slipped his arm around her waist before they reached the stairs.
What the fuck is this place?An older couple and a young couple with a baby on the way were here. My first thought was I had, indeed, lost my mind. Nothing made sense.
A bit warily, I reached the staircase and took the steps down. The array of windows let in an abundance of natural light, and one look outside was further proof that I had no idea what was going on. Snow, trees, and a few vehicles parked out front. But nothing more. I definitely wasn’t in town anymore.
Something amazing drifted to my nose, and I recognized the smell of bacon, coffee, and baked goods. Cinnamon rolls, maybe? My hunger roared its discontent, and I followed the trail of food. Once on the bottom floor, I noticed the Christmas decorations; more garland, red bows, and a few trees lit with gold lights and adorned with red and green ornaments.
Hearing people talking in the other room, as well as silverware clanking on plates, I followed the sound and passed through two large wooden doors, entering a brightly lit dining area.
The dark hardwood floor was broken up by the cream walls and the many windows. The round tables had four chairs each and most of them were occupied by various types of people; old and young alike. On one end of the room was a breakfast bar with platters of sausage, biscuits, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Kind of like the breakfast served in hotels, but way fancier.
If Iwasin a hotel, I had no memory of checking in.
“Good morning, Mr. Wiley,” a smooth voice said from behind me.
When I turned and saw the man who’d spoken, my breath caught in my throat and my blood rushed south, which probably explained my sudden lightheadedness. His short blond hair was longer on top and brushed back, formal in appearance, and the sides were faded. He stood taller than my five foot eleven stature, and although he was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, he exuded class.
“Er, hi.”
He raked a gaze up and down my body before a smile touched his lips. “I was right. The clothes fit you well.”
Oh, shit. Sothisis Ian? I had no recollection of the man, which was a damn shame. Had we fucked? God, I hoped not. Having no memory of worshipping that amazing body was a crime in and of itself.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, stepping closer. “Please help yourself. If there’s nothing on the bar to your liking, the cook can make you something else.”
Last night, I had gotten drunk in my apartment. That morning, I woke up in a fancy as hell mansion surrounded by strangers, wearing someone else’s clothes, and was now talking to the sexiest man I’d ever seen. And everyone was acting as if it was normal. As if I belonged.
“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing around the room before focusing back on him. “What is all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where am I?” I motioned to the room.
He cocked his head. “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Wiley?”
“Cole,” I corrected. “Call me Cole.”
“Very well. You can call me Ian. Are you feeling all right, Cole?”
“I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“A car dropped you off last night,” the man—Ian—said. “You informed me that the airline lost your luggage, so you had no clothes. I lent you some pajamas to sleep in and took the clothes you were wearing to the laundry room. You don’t remember any of this?”
No, I didn’t. But I didn’t want to sound crazy and admit it to him.
I flew on a plane last night? The airline lost my luggage? It was impossible. No plane would’ve ever let me board being so drunk, and where would I even had traveled to? Definitely not to some random mansion in the middle of nowhere.
“Is this some kind of hotel?”
His smile faltered even more. “A bed and breakfast, yes.” He scrutinized me, and I suspected he was searching for signs of me being intoxicated or on drugs. IwishedI was on something, but I was depressingly sober. “Maybe you’ll feel better once you eat something.”
I nodded and turned toward the breakfast bar. On wobbly legs, I went over and grabbed a plate from the stack, piling it with bacon, scrambled eggs, and biscuits covered in white-pepper gravy. I questioned whether I had an appetite, but that changed when I got a whiff of bacon and my mouth watered. I grabbed a cinnamon roll, too, before spotting a coffee pot and pouring a big mug.
Ian stood near the wall, smiling at a group of women who passed him, but then his eyes returned to me.
