Hot Buttered Rum: Standalone Romance (Silk Stocking Inn Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

same direction as me.
    The bird made a sweet cooing sound as I reached up and rubbed its feathery chest with the side of my finger. “Guess you don’t need a towel when you’re wearing waterproof feathers.”
    Dexter’s green head bobbed up and down as if he was nodding.
    “I’ll get dressed. Then we better find Turner.”
    “Aye matey,” Dexter muttered.
    I laughed. “Right, matey.”
    My new friend and I walked into the bedroom. The aroma of grilled onions wafted my direction. Even Dexter seemed to smell the deliciousness coasting around us. Somehow, without me hearing one footstep or plate being laid, Coco had set the small table in front of the bedroom window with white linens, a silver domed plate of food, and a chilled bottle of wine.
    Dexter pushed off my shoulder and flew to the back of the chair. “Awk! pretty girl.”
    I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, so you’re one of those guys, huh? A little flattery, shiny black eyes and you think I’m just going to hand over my food.”
    I walked over and lifted the dome. The rich smell of onions and grilled cheese filled the room. I tore off a piece of the tomato wedge on the salad and held it out. Dexter danced across the back of the chair and plucked the tomato from my fingers just as someone knocked on the door.
    I glanced down at the robe and pulled it together tighter. With her amazing timing, I assumed it was Coco. She’d know what to do with Dexter.
    I swung open the door and just as he’d stunned me when he walked into the bakery, Turner struck me speechless again.
    Rainwater dripped off his long black hair. He was entirely too tall and too big for the Victorian sized hallway. But he looked just roguish enough to be from a different century, a century when dashing men were considered just a little more pleasing if they added a touch of scoundrel to their personality. While this man was, in essence, a complete stranger, something assured me he fit the bill perfectly. My theory was immediately proven when his blue eyes brazenly scrolled down to my cleavage. I looked down, only to find that the robe had parted open enough to show the swells of my breasts.
    I shifted my shoulders and drew the fabric closed, but only after allowing him to have a good long look. A look didn’t hurt, after all.
    My prim behavior pushed his mouth up in a slow grin. He pulled a wet piece of paper out from behind his back. It had a crude stick drawing of a parrot with a talking bubble that said ‘pretty girl’.
    “Have you seen this chatty bloke?” He lifted his hand up above his shoulder. “He’s about so high and wears a lot of green.” Turner leaned over to look past me. Dexter was still busy with the tomato. “He also has no shame when it comes to asking for treats. Oh, and he has an affinity for pretty girls.” He tapped his chest. “That he learned from me.” He finished that declaration with a beaming smile.
    I stepped back and swept my hand around to point at Dexter. “You know your bird, sir.”
    Turner looked down at his wet shoes. “I’m going to be hearing it from Coco. I’ve already tracked rainwater through the house.” He stepped into the room. Dexter peered up from the tomato clutched in his toes for a brief second and then returned to his treat.
    “It’s strange,” Turner said as he faced back to me. “He never takes off like that. Especially in a storm. He’s lucky he made it back to the inn safely.” He had no qualms about letting his eyes travel over me from head to toe. In the business world and at work, it was a behavior that would have angered me, but standing in the middle of my sumptuous bedroom at the inn, I allowed myself to take pleasure in it.
    Turner seemed to appreciate what he saw. I know I was feeling the same way about him. Even dripping wet with rain, gazing at him was like looking at the mouthwatering cover of a romance novel.
    Then something about it all, me, standing completely alone with a tall, wet stranger, a stranger