Definitely Not Dating

By Christi Barth

It's a chance to start over for both of them...

Everleigh Girard always dates the wrong men at the worst times. The last debacle cost her a job and an apartment. But thanks to a crazy lottery win, she and her friends have a fresh start restoring a historic inn. Determined to make it a success, Everleigh swears off the dangers of dating entirely. Except…the town’s police chief is distractingly hot. So how much trouble could friends with benefits really cause?

Police chief Matt Halliday always puts protecting his town first. He’s blindsided when his house mysteriously burns down, and grateful his friends rent him a room at their inn while they finish renovations. It’s a great deal. Mostly. It’s hard to resist the very beautiful Everleigh. Love is permanently off the table for him—but lust is definitely on.

After their first red-hot kiss, keeping it casual is impossible. Can Everleigh teach Matt to trust again—especially when he’s keeping a secret that may put him and his new friends at risk?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: May 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953647504

Christi Barth

USA TODAY bestseller Christi Barth earned a Masters degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage. A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning. Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes award-winning contemporary romance. Christi can always be found either whipping up gourmet meals (for fun, honest!) or with her nose in a book. She lives in Maryland with the best husband in the world.

Book preview

Prologue

December 26

Alex Kirkland paced around the room; his energy compressed like the rubber bands inside a golf ball. It could be assumed it was due to the massive—or massively weird—lottery the four of them had just won, but Everleigh Girard knew better.

She’d known Alex her whole life. Considered him an almost brother, since he was the brother to her BFF Amelia. And thus she knew that Alex carried that level of intensity every single day. But she loved him to pieces anyway.

Alex pulled at his navy turtleneck. Like he was sweating. Even though, hello, December + Pittsburgh equaled brrr-ific temps on a good day. Okay. We won. We somehow won this freaking lottery. What do we do now?

Yep. That was Alex.

Plans and to-do lists up the wazoo, whether it was to take sandwiches and beer on a picnic at Point State Park, or planning the elaborate, multi-site scavenger hunt for Amelia’s twenty-first birthday that culminated in a massive party at the rooftop Biergarten overlooking all of Pittsburgh. Everleigh loved him for doing it, but the endless emails and itineraries and spreadsheets he’d sent in the weeks before almost pushed her to just take Amelia to Philly without telling him.

Why does that sound like a trick question? Amelia frowned at her brother, red braids falling over her shoulders as she shook her head. I gave you the best Christmas present ever with that lottery ticket.

"Best potential present," Teague corrected. He was Alex’s bestie (not that either of them would dream of using that term), and thus another pseudo-brother to Everleigh. In general, he’d be the least likely of all of them to pick on a technicality, but he was probably cranky from rocking a brutal hangover.

Once they got the call—on Christmas!—that they’d won the lottery gifting them not with cash, but a freaking historic inn, they’d, well, celebrated. Because they’d only bought the tickets on Christmas Eve. And because, for various stupid or pathetic or just plain wrong reasons, they were all in need of a life preserver for, well, life. So then they’d run out to buy champagne.

Since Teague had spent the last decade as a member of the Army’s Special Forces, champagne was not his, ah, go-to drink. Everleigh had no doubt the sugary bubbles had done a number on him.

Sleeping on Amelia’s couch probably hadn’t helped, either. But since he’d just gotten out of the Army a few weeks ago, he didn’t have his own place.

So instead of calling him annoying, she’d pivot the conversation away from him. And refill his coffee. And hand him the green afghan the Kirklands’ grandmother had knitted a lifetime ago.

Squeezing his sister’s arm, Alex said, "It was a great potential present, especially once we all chipped in and bought more lottery tickets. But now that we’ve won, it is the best actual present of all time. Amelia, I can’t wait to see how you top this for my birthday."

Amelia rolled her holly-green eyes. No. No way. That’s why I think an engagement ring for a Christmas present is stupid. You can’t ever come close to replicating that special a gift.

Alex slammed his palm down on the mantel, making the pine-tree-shaped candles jump. No one’s getting engaged. Talk about a nightmare complication.

That is a messed-up way to talk about love, Ever scolded.

Even fresh off of getting dumped, she still firmly believed that a walk down the aisle should be in everyone’s future. Why wouldn’t you yearn to share your life with your best friend who gave you awesome smooches?

"Falling in love takes time. Opening a hotel will take all of our time. And I’m not doing this alone. Alex pointed his finger in a slow circle around the room. We have to agree."

Amelia bumped him with her shoulder. We did already. When we bought the tix.

Yes, but that was a fantasy. Fueled by too much cocoa and perfect snowflakes and, I don’t know, the freaking magic of Christmas.

It is still the season of joy and love. Don’t be disrespectful of the holiday. Everleigh grabbed a handful of tinsel from the tree and threw it at him. Being tinsel, it only sailed about a millimeter through the air before drifting to the ground, but she was sure he got the idea. I can’t believe the best present ever is making you this cranky.

Alex sat down—gingerly—on the papasan. Gingerly, because his super-tall frame tipped it over nine times out of ten when he made the attempt. Sorry I slipped into a rant zone. But the fact is that out of the blue, with zero warning or preparation, we suddenly own a huge historic inn. Do we really want it? The responsibility?

What the hell else would we do? Teague pointed at each of them in turn. "Alex, you got fired—unjustly fired, he quickly corrected, and the Grand Orion kicked you out of your sweet pad in the hotel when you lost your job as manager. Amelia’s about to be laid off, and her apartment’s being repossessed."

It isn’t a car, Teague. And I sure as heck haven’t missed a single payment. Amelia started another pot of coffee in the galley kitchen. They’re turning it into condos and cranking the rates up sky-high with an impossible-to-meet deposit requirement.

Whatever. My way’s less words. Everleigh got dumped, fired, and tossed out of her jerk boyfriend’s place. I’m already on your couch, and have no job, no idea of what I want to do, or what the hell I can do with my special skill sets around bombs and sniper rifles.

If she wasn’t so annoyed, Everleigh would spend a moment being genuinely concerned for Teague. How on earth was he supposed to transition from government-ordered violence to a normal life behind a desk?

But she was annoyed. Nobody liked their problems aired, let alone trotted out and waved like banners of awfulness pulled behind a prop plane. Did you really need to drill down into our pathetic-ness?

Yeah. I did. Because this lottery win is the solution to all our problems. With the candy coating of all of us getting to work and live together. Teague threw up his arms. Why are we debating? Why is Alex pacing again with that line between his eyebrows? Why the hell aren’t there donuts?

Oh, yay—Alex had made it out of the papasan without overturning it.

See? That was proof that luck was still on their side. Or that they were turning over a new leaf. Something good was in the air.

You’re not in the Army anymore. There’s no mess cook here. Amelia hooked a thumb at the front door. And simultaneously aimed a very pointed side-eye at Teague. If you want donuts, go get ’em. I’ll take a chocolate glazed old-fashioned.

Alex came to a stop in the middle of the living room. Commanded the space, was more like it. "Running a hotel is my dream job. Doesn’t mean it’s fair to inflict it on all of you."

"Your hotel was about to hire me as a landscaper right before they so, so wrongly let you go. I was on board with doing the grounds there. I’m even more on board with doing all the landscaping at our very own inn. Heck, since it isn’t in the middle of downtown Pittsburgh, there’s probably lots more acreage for me to play with." Amelia spread her arms wide.

Alex held up his right hand. Ostentatiously flicked up his index finger. So that’s one yes vote to keep the inn.

Two, Teague corrected. I already made my case.

I need to hear from each of you if we’re going to move forward. All three of them turned to her. She was trapped between the tree and the brick wall. No escape.

And how bad was it that she wanted to escape from the three people she loved most in the world?

Everleigh? Alex asked. His ice-blue eyes sparkled, like he knew she’d say yes and they could start celebrating again.

Rats. She’d been worrying about this moment all night, barely sleeping after their celebration. I’m really happy for you, Alex.

"For all of us, you mean?"

For you. Getting your dream. I love you to pieces, so I want to help. I just…I don’t think you want me to. Then she slid sideways against the wall, like a cartoon villain trying to blend into the shadows.

It didn’t work. Everleigh got to the doorframe. Well, her shoulder got there first, fell through, and she did a starfish thing with her right leg and left arm to catch herself from hitting the floor.

Which meant instead of slinking away unnoticed—already hard to do in a two-window-wide row-home—her friends were staring at her with all of their attention.

What the hell is wrong with you? Teague asked with his usual bluntness.

At the same time, Amelia rushed over, counterbalanced her arm and Teague’s brusqueness by saying soothingly, Ever, what’s the matter?

Alex didn’t move. Or say anything. He did something worse.

He watched her. Studied her. Like he could figure out what burbled in her head without her even speaking.

He could do it, too. At nineteen, he’d become Amelia’s guardian when their parents were killed. Overnight, he’d somehow acquired the skill set of a parent: eyes in the back of his head, the ability to see through the most foolproof lie, and the uncanny knack of sensing when Amelia and Ever were talking about boys instead of doing homework.

That freaky mental mojo only got stronger as they got older. It felt like he rolled it out more on Everleigh than on his actual sister. Probably because she: 1) got in way more trouble, 2) made far worse decisions, and 3) had a well-deserved reputation as a hot mess.

Which came right back around to the present moment. Excusing herself from the most amazing opportunity to ever fall in her lap.

She and Alex had a stare-down, Wild West duel style.

Obviously, she cracked first. You guys don’t need me.

Amelia threw an arm around her shoulder, looking confused that Everleigh would say such a thing. Of course we do.

Yeah, yeah, they were besties. The support and the love was automatic. In this particular case, though, it was misguided.

"I mean, you guys don’t need me screwing it up."

Alex kept up that assessing gaze for another few seconds. Then he pushed Teague’s feet off the couch. Up. Once the spot was empty, he patted the cushion for Ever to come sit next to him.

Oh, geez. He was going to be all thoughtful and make her cry.

She’d try to babble. If she did it fast enough and long enough, sometimes it distracted him. "Alex, you managed the most exclusive, swankiest hotel in Pittsburgh. You bring all the expertise. Amelia will do the same for the outdoors. Teague’s a workhorse. But what am I going to bring to the table? My worthless art history degree, not to mention my own personal history of failure and bad decisions? I don’t have useful skills. I’m a walking, talking jinx. You might as well have Scooby-Doo as your fourth partner."

Scooby sheds, Alex said, almost absentmindedly.

So do I. Everleigh laughed, flicking at her long black hair. And felt relief that she had, indeed, steered him off of the lecture course.

Scooby also poops. Everywhere. Whereas your bathroom is immaculate. A thing of beauty.

Geez. Thanks, I guess? Alex was now getting weird. Why would he bring up her bathroom?

Before you moved in with what’s-his-name—

Randall, she supplied.

He glowered. Everleigh wasn’t sure she’d actually seen a glower before, but the deeply creased forehead and squinty eyes could be nothing else. "I know. I’m choosing to not say his name, because the man’s an idiot. He fired you and cheated on you. He’s lucky I haven’t grabbed Teague and gone over and bruised his heart, along with a few other body parts."

Awww. That was sweet. Very big-brother-y. "Technically, Randall didn’t cheat on me. He cheated on his fiancée I knew nothing about, with me." Even though she’d been in the dark about the other woman’s existence, Everleigh felt a sense of responsibility. Well, guilt. Massive guilt, at doing that to a member of her gender.

Isn’t today Boxing Day? Teague pushed up his sleeves. I don’t know what the name’s supposed to mean, but how about we personalize it for our purposes. Let’s go over there and teach Randall that he can’t treat you so badly.

It’s over. There’s no point.

He was reckless with your heart, Amelia said softly. I’d like to give him a kick where it’d hurt the most myself.

Her friends were the best. So supportive. A hundred times more than she deserved. A million times more so than her own parents were.

Look, your bathroom was spotless. Alex rotated a hand in the air. And it had this amazing color scheme that was relaxing but not too feminine.

Sea foam, she murmured.

Sure. You have an eye for all that. Probably from all those art history classes you soaked up. You’ll be the best one of us at making the inn look right.

Everleigh appreciated it, but that logic might be a bit of a stretch. Oh, I don’t know…

You also have superior attention to detail.

Now he was laying it on too thick. You’re judging this all based on my bathroom?

And that you have an above average preference for cleanliness, Amelia added with a snicker.

Right. They’d need someone to clean all the guest bathrooms. No wonder they wanted her on the team.

Everleigh immediately regretted the thought.

Her friends would never see her as only capable of wielding a scrub brush and bucket. It was unfair to them. That thought was entirely her own battered husk of self-esteem talking.

Alex glared at his sister before turning back to her. That’s simply the first example I called to mind. For Christ’s sake, Everleigh, I’ve known you forever. I’m telling you that I believe you have talent and heart and grit and will be an excellent partner. He leaned over. "I just wish you believed it."

Yeah, a deep dive into her self-confidence issues was definitely a topic for another day. Because she was already welling up from his words. Everleigh fanned her hand in front of her eyes.

Okay, yes. I’m in. Let’s do this. She jumped up, gesturing for everyone to come in for a group hug. Of course, Amelia was first, bounding over to throw her arms around her. The big, brash ex-soldier was next, because he never turned down a hug.

And Alex slowly joined last, as if still shell-shocked by his good fortune.

We own an inn. Alex rocked back and forth, his long arms somehow encompassing all of them.

Amelia shot her arm straight up in the middle. We’re going to make our guests so stinking happy.

"We’re going to make them feel like they belong," Teague vowed.

We’re going to be a success.

At least, the three of them were.

Everleigh would, of course, try her hardest. But she knew better than to truly believe she would succeed.

Chapter One

Matt Halliday wasn’t overly modest. After his years in the Coast Guard, he didn’t care about who saw his body in a uniform, or in trunks…or even his boxer briefs. It didn’t matter. Bodies were bodies.

Or so he’d thought.

Turned out that standing in just a bathrobe in front of his neighbors and the volunteer fire brigade? Under the harsh red and white emergency vehicle lights? It made him more than a little self-conscious.

An EMT draped a blanket over his shoulders, then kept walking. Matt was grateful for both things. Right about now, watching his house burn down? He appreciated the emotional and physical comfort of the crackly Mylar. It wasn’t unseasonably cold, but April on the Eastern Shore of Maryland called for more on his legs than a flapping cotton robe.

He was also glad for the wordless, non-medical interaction. They’d checked his O2 sats when they first arrived on the scene. Matt didn’t need a hovering stethoscope in his face. If they took his pulse? Yeah, it’d be racing. Blood pressure? Sky high.

He didn’t need medical attention. He didn’t need a gurney, or an oxygen mask, or a liter of saline while he processed the shock.

He needed to know why his freaking house was on fire.

Chief? Got a second?

Matt had no idea who was talking to him from beneath the full turnout kit of helmet and mask. But what exactly did they think he had on his plate right now?

Yeah. I sure do. What’s up?

Where’s your gun? And ammo? We need to be sure the heat won’t pop one off into one of our guys.

Jesus. Like his house burning down wasn’t bad enough. An accidental weapon discharge into fire department personnel? That’d be a nightmare.

Duty weapon’s in the locker at the station. Side piece is in a safe in the hall closet. Unloaded. Ammo’s in the bedroom.

Thanks, Chief. We think we got it contained before it hit too much of your bedroom. Shouldn’t be an issue. The fireman headed back to the cluster of men and hoses.

And flames continued to lick out of what used to be red-shingled windows on the white house. A nicer house than he’d expected to get as his first one. Cheap, though, thanks to the previous resident dying by suicide in the kitchen.

That history would bother lots of citizens. But it hadn’t kept Matt from making an offer. As chief of police, he saw lots of bad things happen in every part of town. Couldn’t do the job if an unsettling history kept him from going back.

Now, though? He sure couldn’t go back into his house.

Matt cinched the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Walked past the fire trucks to get away from the smoke. It kept changing direction as the hoses hit it, and as the wind came off the Chester River. It was easier to breathe the farther away he got. If that helped him avoid an overnight in the hospital with an oxygen mask, he’d walk all the way to the bay.

Also? He didn’t particularly need to watch his worldly possessions go up in smoke.

Crowd control, though? That was always a go-to for him.

First, he angled toward his nearest neighbor, a big man with a razor-cut ’fro who’d had the presence of mind—unlike him—to pull on clothes and a jacket. He stood at the edge of the wide lot, by the tree line. Dwayne, I’m sorry all this woke you up. I know you’ve got an early shift tomorrow at the college.

Oh, don’t you apologize, Chief. It’s not your fault. Is it? Then Dwayne guffawed loudly, slapping his thigh.

The caliber of three a.m. humor left a lot to be desired. Nope. Not my fault.

Good to hear.

The firefighters assure me it’s mostly contained. Your house isn’t at risk at all. Safe for you to head back to bed. But I appreciate you coming out to check on me.

Thanks, Chief.

Matt crossed the street to tackle the next neighbor. Lorna Mosby was on her porch swing. A big red cooler sat on her railing, with stacks of plastic cups on either side.

You throwing a party, Miss Lorna?

If I’d known it’d get the fire department out here, you bet I would’ve. She cackled with glee. It was funny to both of them—in an ironic way—since she hadn’t ventured past her front yard hedge in at least a decade. One of his less-than-sensitive deputies had compared her to a garden gnome—squat, shriveled, and planted in one spot. That’s who the water’s for. I figure they’ll need a drink soon.

I’ll pass the word. Sure they’ll be grateful. Thanks so much. Matt looked over his shoulder, back at the jet-black smoke inking up into the dark sky. I don’t suppose you had a hard time sleeping tonight?

Once the sirens went off, you bet. No way I can head back to dreamland with all this ruckus out here.

Guess he’d have to lay it out more plainly. I apologize for that. He coughed. Coughed again. Damn smoke. "But I meant before. Any chance you were up? Near a window? Saw anything or anyone…strange about my house?"

You’re sweet to check on me, but I kicked my insomnia. She leaned forward on the wooden swing, crooked a finger to draw him closer as if about to impart a state secret. Melatonin. I sleep like a baby now. A fat, milk-drunk baby. You ought to get yourself some.

I don’t think an anvil to the head would help me sleep tonight. But thanks for the tip. He retraced his steps out of the garden before she could offer him a cookie from the glass plate he noticed next to the cooler. Lorna’s tongue was sharp, her heart was enormous, and her baking skills were nonexistent. Didn’t stop her from trying to foist them on every resident—and tourist—of Chestertown who passed by.

Man, she’d been complaining about her insomnia since he moved in. More than once he’d returned from a middle-of-the-night call to discover her rocking on the porch. He’d amble over and chat for a few minutes. The eagle-eyed old lady would regale him with every single coming and going on the street for that day.

What a crappy time for her to finally sleep through the night.

Because Matt needed her incessant nosiness. He didn’t believe for a second that his house spontaneously combusted. It was highly unlikely, first of all. On top of that, when something like this happened to the chief of the city’s police force? There was good reason to dig deeper.

Hard for him to do any digging tonight, though. The fire department had jurisdiction over the scene until the last ember was banked.

Hey, buddy. Teague Sullivan, in turnout gear but no helmet, patted him roughly on the back. His brown hair was matted and his face glistened with sweat, though, so he must’ve ditched the mask recently. I won’t ask how you’re doing. That’d be dumb.

Yeah.

I will ask if you should really be strolling the neighborhood right about now?

It wasn’t Matt’s first choice, after all. He’d give just about anything to be back in bed, with, you know, a full freaking roof overhead. Well, my recliner’s not available at the moment.

Teague pointed to the open back doors of the ambulance. I see a spot where you could park yourself right over there.

I’m fine. And then a series of racking coughs bent him in half. Okay, maybe walking around hadn’t been the smartest idea.

C’mon. No gurney. No driving away with you strapped down. Just sit there and suck on some sweet, pure O2. I hear people in Hollywood pay big bucks to do that.

Matt’s throat burned. It distracted him, but not enough that he didn’t notice Teague’s hand on his back, slowly pushing him toward the ambulance. "It could take until dawn to list all the ways you and I are not like celebrities."

Does that mean you’re not interested in getting a vampire facial, either?

"What’s that? Never mind, I don’t care. Why do you know about vampire facials?" Because the big guy had been Army Special Forces until a few months ago. Teague didn’t seem the type to be following trends.

I live with Amelia and Everleigh. Alex and I try to ignore a lot of the girly chatter, but some of the nonsense still seeps in.

Ah, yes. The inn crew—the four out-of-towners who won the dilapidated Three Oaks Inn in what the locals called the worst lottery ever. Most people assumed they were nuts when they showed up to take ownership.

Matt had gotten to be friends with all of them. He could certify that they were sane, with a side helping of desperate to make it a success. They’d worked their asses off to give the historic inn new life. Their persistence and grit had rehabbed it in record time, and it was close to its official opening.

Teague pressed him to sit down onto the floor of the rig. Honestly, it was too much effort to resist. The man expertly fitted a mask to Matt’s head and turned on the flow.

Damn if that cool flow of air didn’t feel as good on his scratchy lungs as ice cream had the day he got his tonsils out.

You’re an EMT now?

Field medic training goes with the territory in Special Forces. If you’re ever in need of an emergency amputation, I’m your guy.

Right. That’d come in handy in this quiet, coastal college town. Good to know. Matt closed his eyes, just breathing for a minute. When he opened them, Teague was still there. Aw, hell. Did they send you to monitor me?

No. Teague jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the smoking house. This is my first fire. I’m still considered a trainee, so they cut me off the line after an hour. That’s when I noticed you walking around in your robe like Tony Soprano. Figured if I couldn’t be useful to the house fire, I could be useful to the owner of the house.

Didn’t know you joined the brigade. It surprised him. Matt knew that the inn crew had been pulling down twelve-hour days getting it ready for guests and weddings. Don’t you have your hands full with the inn?

Teague snorted. According to Alex’s to-do lists, our hands will be full for the next eight months. But I needed to be a part of something that was bigger than me, you know? A way to…make a difference?

Something he probably understood better than Alex did, even though he was Teague’s best friend. I get it. When I left the Coast Guard, there were normal, civilian jobs I could’ve taken. Made more money, too. I wanted to do something that mattered. Keep people safe.

Yeah. My, ah, particular skill set from the Army doesn’t translate as easily to civilian life. Pretending to be nonchalant—and failing miserably—he dropped his fingers to Matt’s wrist and took his pulse. Sneaky.

There’s no playbook. No right or wrong path. Certainly nothing easy about it. Which sucked.

Matt didn’t know the specific details of what Teague used to do on his tours in the Middle East. Once Teague learned he was ex-military, too, he’d dropped some hints about bombs and sniper rifles. The man had to have served some rough tours. Re-entry—to a whole different life, really—without a job lined up had to be tough.

Winning the inn, living and running it with his best friends? Maybe it really was the best prize ever for him.

Teague adjusted the oxygen flow. It feels like being a volunteer firefighter is a cause I can get behind. A way to really connect to this community, too.

"Well, this community member thanks you for your service in helping to put out my house fire."

He grinned, teeth flashing super white in contrast to his soot-stained face. I held a hose. It was awesome. So much power bucking under my hands.

Nothing wrong with having fun while you work. Now stop fussing over me before I arrest you for harassing an officer.

Teague held up both of his hands. Then he sat down next to Matt. Once I unhook you from this equipment, where are you going to go?

Huh. Good question.

Chestertown was small and historic. Most of the tourists stayed at pricey historic inns and B&Bs. There was a single chain hotel at the edge of town. Not that he had his wallet on him…

Probably crash on the couch at the station. Look for an apartment tomorrow. That sounded grim. The shock he’d been holding at bay all night flooded through him. Thank God for the mask, because it was suddenly hard to breathe. Matt gripped his forehead.

Where would he go?

How many of his belongings were salvageable?

And if this was deliberate, would there be a second attempt?

Nope. You’re coming home with me, Teague announced. Stay at the inn. For as long as you need.

You’re not even open yet. And I’m sure I can’t afford your jacked-up tourist rates.

We’ve got a room that we haven’t touched up yet. Everything’s clean. Just needs paint. Even has those fancy multiple showerheads Alex insisted on. It’s a win-win.

How?

We need income. We’ve got reservations on the books—a lot for graduation weekend—but we’re not full, by any means. Even if we charge you half the normal rate, like a long-term rental, it’d help us. You’d get to live in, well, a mansion. Sound better than that rent-by-the-hour motel across the river?

Matt had come home to Chestertown to