Excerpt from The Inn at Oak Creek by Linda Barrett

I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Kincaid."

Sam nodded at the young woman standing behind the front desk in the lobby of the Bluebonnet Hotel. Although she stood on an angle, reaching for something behind her, the gentleness in her voice reached him…

"Thank you," Sam replied, nodding briefly before turning to scan the ornately tiled room. He noted the familiar wrought-iron ceiling fans and wall sconces as he searched for a familiar face. It was late afternoon; he'd driven for almost two days nonstop and he needed to crash. But first, he wanted to say hello to his parents.

"Your folks aren't here," came the quiet voice again.

He swiveled around, his systems becoming alert. Was she reading his mind? "And you are…?"

"Molly Porter," she replied, extending her hand across the desk. "The new assistant manager of the hotel, at least for now."

He assessed her quickly. Not his type. Her complexion was too pale, her face bare of cosmetics. Her honey-blond hair was pulled straight back, neatly gathered behind her neck with a barrette, and her simple white cotton blouse did nothing to show off her figure. 

But when Sam looked into her eyes, he paused. They were the saddest eyes he'd ever seen. Or maybe, hopefully, they were just tired. Maybe she was tired. The past two days had to have been rough at the hotel because of his uncle's death. But sad or tired, those big blue eyes were looking rock-steady back at him.

"The new graduate?" he asked, remembering his mother's words on the phone

"That's right. Cornell University School of Hotel Management."

Great credentials, but she didn't seem like a recent grad. Not with her calm, self-possessed manner or the patient way she waited for him to reply.

"Well, Ms. Porter," he said, reaching for his suitcase, "which room is available to me?"

She smiled at him, and he blinked with surprise. What a difference! Beautiful. The woman was beautiful and he was speechless. But…how? She had no style. She was nothing special. But when that smile appeared…

"I'm told we're informal in Texas," she said. "Call me Molly."

She turned her head to procure a room key and he barely controlled his gasp. A jagged scar snaked from her right temple down the side of her face all the way to her jaw. He shivered at the possibilities.