Tyler Anne Snell - Credible Alibi

“You can thank my military training for that,” he said with a wry smile. “I don’t think I could be late for something if I wanted to.”

She laughed. Julian made sure not to trace the scar against her cheek with his eyes again.

“Well, either way, I’m happy you made it.” She angled her body and spread her arms wide toward the house. “I’m Madeline Nash, and this is the Hidden Hills Inn.”

The bed-and-breakfast was aptly named. Near the heart of the very small town of Overlook, Tennessee, the road to the inn wound its way through fields, forests and hills. Mountains crested in the distance. No sound of cars or city life broke through them or the land they were boxing in. Julian had gone from big-city Tennessee to small-town Tennessee to this rural beauty. The inn was in the center of it all yet felt a world away from everything else.

Julian appreciated the quiet, just as he did the privacy.

“Let’s get you all signed in and then we can start the tour,” Madeline continued. He followed her up to the long covered porch. She paused before opening the front door. “I’m sorry but it wasn’t clear on the phone, are you expecting to meet someone here or are you traveling alone?”

“It’s just me. I’m alone.”

Madeline kept smiling. Customer service was in her wheelhouse and it showed. She kept to small talk without it ever feeling like small talk. After Julian signed in, she took him on a tour of the wide two-story house with all the best efforts of a seasoned host. From the common rooms to the private suites to the small bar that made up the surprisingly comfortable lounge at the back of the house, Madeline Nash made every space interesting and somehow intimate.

When the tour concluded at the bottom of one of the two sets of stairs the house offered, his golden-haired tour guide fixed him with a grin.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, already taking a step back. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call the number on the card in your room. Breakfast and dinner are served every morning and night at seven. There’s a list of activities and sights you might consider during your stay in a packet on your bed.”

Julian had a flash of impulsive bravado. He almost asked the innkeeper if she ever considered accompanying guests to those sights and activities when a car door slammed outside. They both turned to the entryway window. A man with dark hair and a cowboy hat started up the walkway.

Madeline didn’t say it out loud but she wasn’t happy to see him. Her already-tense body tightened. Yet her smile stayed where it was.

“Again, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Julian tipped his head in acknowledgment as Madeline left through the front door, greeting the man. Instead of coming inside, they moved across the yard and disappeared from view. A part of Julian wanted to follow, to make sure she was okay, but then his senses came back.

He didn’t know Madeline and thinking he had to protect her was foolish. His mother would have scolded him for his presumptions that the innkeeper was some kind of hurt, damaged woman in need of saving. For cripes’ sake, he’d only just met her.

Julian knew from experience that there were more people walking the earth with scars than with smooth, untouched skin. That didn’t mean he had to try to save them all.

That didn’t mean they needed saving in the first place.

First impressions were tricky like that.

The first smile was easy.

It was everything after that got a little murky when trying to decipher them.

His room was in the far corner of the second-floor landing. It was a big difference from the hotel rooms he’d been frequenting and, if he was being honest, the apartment he’d been living in the last several years. The room was spacious and stretched much wider than he thought was possible. Not only was there a king-size bed, there was an adjoining sitting area and a desk and a three-piece bathroom. He was surprised and happy to note that the showerhead was high enough to allow him to stand up straight beneath it, a luxury his apartment had never afforded him. In his Special Forces unit he’d been known as the Lumberjack. It wasn’t that inventive of a nickname but it was apt. Julian was built tall, wide and muscled like his father before him. Most times it translated into unintentional intimidation. Other times it meant he had to hunch over in the shower.

Julian threw his bag down just as his phone started to ring.

The caller ID read Chance Montgomery.

“Mercer,” Julian greeted. He walked to one of the windows that ran along the room and looked through the blinds. He spotted Madeline at the table where she’d been sitting when he’d pulled up earlier. Her male companion stood across from her. Julian couldn’t get a read off of him.

“You know, we’ve been friends for a few years now,” Chance said in his Southern twang. “Answering with a ‘hello’ or even a ‘howdy’ instead of your last name would make our conversations a little more casual and a little less like I’ve just accidentally called my old high school math teacher and she’s still mad about the gum I put on her chair that one time.”

Julian chuckled.

“Old habits die hard,” he responded, actively loosening his shoulders by rolling them. “Brevity and precision have been my friends in the military for a while now.”

“Luckily for you, the private sector has a lot fewer friends.” He paused and then laughed. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“It means I need to say ‘howdy’ apparently.”

Chance laughed again.

“You can’t see it but I’m giving you a type of salute you also wouldn’t find in the military. It has to do something with a certain finger.”

They joked around for a few more minutes before Chance finally circled back to the reason for the call. Julian didn’t mind the chatter; in fact, it was one of the reasons he was headed to Chance’s workplace in Alabama. Chance, a cowboy by upbringing but, lately, a surprisingly skilled bodyguard, was one of the few civilian friends Julian had kept through his marine service over the last ten years. Julian not only liked him but was confident he could work alongside him, which was why he was interviewing at the private protection firm Chance’s uncle owned.

“I just wanted to make sure you were stopping to smell the roses in Overlook and not rushing here,” Chance said, losing his earlier humor. “The interview isn’t until next week and as long as I’ve known you, you haven’t had a vacation, one that actually counted. So I’ll reiterate one more time and then let it go. Enjoy yourself, go watch a sunset, sleep in, buy a lady a drink. You’ll thank me for that advice when you’re out in Germany away from all the Southern hospitality you’ve been hitting on your way here.”

Julian knew Chance was right. His last deployment before he officially left the military started the week after his interview. Then he would hopefully return to Alabama and finally, finally stay put for a while.

“I’ll make sure to smell the roses,” Julian promised. “I’m here for two days and then on to Nashville for the next three. I should be at your place after that.”

Chance must have thought this was acceptable. He ended the call without any more constructive criticism. Julian stayed at his spot by the window, admiring the curve of the mountain in the distance. Then his gaze dropped to the innkeeper.

Two days here and then he’d be one step closer to a new life.

* * *

“I’M NOT TRYING to destroy the family, Des.”

Madeline Nash watched as her brother tried to save face moments after showing his backside. He took his dark gray Stetson, pressed it against his thigh and blew out a sigh she recognized as frustration.