Free Sea Glass Inn by Karis Walsh Page A

inn and an even bigger heart. Pam hoped she hadn’t sounded as if she’d been fishing for an invitation. It was tempting, especially when Pam remembered sitting on the steps leading to the beach talking with Mel, and the feel of Mel’s hand when Pam had brushed against it with her own. Even now she felt the tickle of the light touch, vibrating into her belly. She had to say no. Not because she couldn’t control her physical reaction to Mel—of course she could. But because she felt bad enough having Mel look around her empty house and make assumptions about how little she painted. She didn’t need to give her proof day after day. “Thanks, I appreciate the offer. But I’ll stay at a hotel. I know how busy you are without having a guest underfoot before you’re ready to open the inn.”
    Mel was surprised by how disappointed she felt at Pam’s refusal.
    She hadn’t realized just how lonely she was in the big house until she had extended the invitation. And this wouldn’t be just a stranger, someone passing through town briefly. This would be Pam—a woman Mel wanted to know better, a woman who could help Mel transition to life as a local. A woman she was attracted to…Mel hurried past that thought. She was attracted to Pam’s talent and her standing in the community. And she hadn’t quite shaken the residual fantasies of sipping wine on the porch with Pam and discussing art. Nothing more intimate than that.
    “A hotel will be expensive, especially if it takes longer than you expect to get the work done,” Mel said, suddenly determined to convince Pam. “You won’t be in my way, and I’m sure you don’t mind a little paint smell.” She stopped talking, confused by Pam’s frown, and then continued. “I’d really love some company.”
    “I have a dog,” Pam said, going over to the sliding glass door and opening it to let a small dog inside. “Her name is Piper.”
    Mel knelt down and rubbed behind the animal’s soft ears. She was out of the habit of touching, of tactile contact with another being.
    She felt hypersensitive to every brief contact, whether it was the rough and gentle feel of Pam’s hand or Piper’s silky coat. Texture, warmth, the feeling of blood and vitality flowing through another creature and into her. “She’s very polite,” she said as the dog sat quietly, accepting the attention without fuss. She and Richard had argued about having a dog in the house for several years before Mel had finally given up.
    His complaints about dogs being destructive and intrusive couldn’t possibly have applied to this animal. A dog would keep her grounded, engaged. Not so lonely. Once the major repairs on her inn were complete, Mel would find a dog of her own. For now, she’d try to share Piper for a short time. “You must have trained her well.”
    “She came that way,” Pam said. “I found her at the Clam Shack in Seaside. She was outside looking for handouts, and the waitress said she had been there for almost a week. I brought her home and tried to find her owner, but no one claimed her. She’s always been very quiet.”
    “I love dogs. I figured I’d get one once I’m settled in the inn. I have a big backyard, and I’m sure Piper won’t mind how overgrown it is. You can’t make her stay in a hotel room.” Mel stood up. “Any more excuses?”
    “I smoke,” Pam said, but Mel could see her mouth starting to curve in a smile.
    “In the backyard,” Mel said. “So you’ll stay with me?”
    “Maybe. Don’t you want to see your painting?”
    “Oh, of course,” Mel said with a laugh. “I forgot why I came.”
    Pam led the way to her small laundry room. She had given in to an irrational need to protect the painting from the remote possibility of water damage. Mel claimed to have forgotten about it, but Pam was certain she’d be more demanding about the mosaics once she had Pam under her roof.
    She was only considering the offer of a place to stay because Piper would be