Page 81 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

I’m the one who asked her to stay and help with the reopening of the inn. And I can’t forget she only agreed to work with me to build up her resume and get a good recommendation. From the beginning, her goal was to impress the people back at Luxe—or whatever other glamorous resort might end up hiring her. I have no idea where she’ll land eventually.

But I’m sure it won’t be Abieville.

“Hey.” Olivia slowly rises from the hearth, her brow furrowing. “Is something wrong? Did you find a leak during your check?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not that. But I heard from Ford. The bridge is blocked, and unless you want to be rescued by the fire department, you’re probably stuck here until morning.”

“Here?” She glances around the lobby, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. “Just us?”

“Yeah.”

She chews her lip for a moment, considering. It’s not like she has much of a choice. I can’t imagine she’ll force Ford to come here in a firetruck. So I’m not sure what’s going on behind those green eyes of hers. “All right,” she says after a long pause. “I’ll stay on three conditions.”

I bob my head. “Anything.”

“For one thing, I sleep in my own room.”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Obviously.”

“Also, you have to feed me.” When I tell her there’s soup and bread in the pub, she beams at me. “Perfect.”

“What’s the third condition?” I ask, and her mouth goes crooked.

“At bedtime, I get to borrow your copy of Jane Eyre.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Olivia

So it looks like I’m spending the night at a romantic inn on a lake with Hudson Blaine.

Weird, right?

Only if you make it weird, Liv.

I do not want to make it weird. I also don’t want the town’s emergency resources to be taxed unnecessarily. Not even a little bit. So Hudson assures me the guest room next to his is fully prepped and ready, and that I’ll surely be comfortable sleeping there. Then he heads over to the pub to get us some food, leaving me behind to do totally normal things like a totally normal woman who isn’t imagining retiring to a bed with only a thin wall separating her and the gorgeous man currently making her dinner.

DO NORMAL THINGS, OLIVIA!

First, I empty the ballot box, dumping out the strips with suggestions for new pub names onto the table in front of the fire. Then I count the strips. There are hundreds of them. Wow. People must really want to win a free night at the inn. When Hudson still hasn’t returned, I make hot cocoa for us at the coffee station.

As the water heats, I make a mental note to add a bowl of mini marshmallows to the coffee cart supplies before Link and Hadley come. Maybe some whipped cream and chocolate chips, too. A complete hot cocoa bar would be a nice touch.

Also, totally normal.

I’m just arranging our mugs of cocoa next to the pile of paper with suggestions for pub names when Hudson finally reenters the lobby. He’s carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of clam chowder and a loaf of crunchy french bread.

Yum. (Not just the food. Also the chef.) I swallow hard, hoping I don’t drool.

“That looks and smells amazing,” I tell him. (Not just the food. Also the chef.) “Thank you so much.” I shove the papers aside to make room for the tray.

He sets it down, nodding at the mugs. “Thanks for the cocoa.”

Together we settle in to eat, drink, and sort through the contenders for the pub-naming contest. So far this is all totally normal behavior, right? At least normal-ish. Unlike some of the ideas the people of the town came up with.

One thing both Hudson and I both learn about the people of Abieville is they really like their alliteration.

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