Page 13 of Falling Inn Love
“Why don’t you get attached?” I ask, my interest stirred. She doesn’t know this yet, but I love a challenge. So now I’ve just made it my mission to knock down her walls and make damn sure she gets as attached to me as I’m feeling to her right now. At times, I think I can tell that she already is, too, but something is clearly holding her back.
“I just don’t. I move on and keep moving. It’s just what I do,” she says as she stands to clear our plates, slamming down the wall and the conversation all at once.
“Thanks, Beth,” I say as she leaves and shuts the door behind her.
As a former Marine, I like the idea of having a mission to accomplish. Now I have a few of them. Get tested for Caleb. Save my inn for my family. And get Beth to like me back.
SEVEN
BETH
Fifty-eight days.
* * *
I like him. I don’t want to, but I do. He’s annoyingly gorgeous. He’s confident, beautiful, and real. He admitted he’s struggling with the inn. I kept a good poker face, but let me just tell you, I wanted to come around that desk, sit on his lap, and kiss him until he forgot all his troubles. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this. I miss holding hands, hugs, passionate kisses, and being excited to see your person. I miss my person.
But no. I just can’t. I can’t go there. It’s too painful. I’m not meant to be with anyone.
I warned him that I keep moving. That probably started when I was in foster care, when I was just another mouth to feed, another person taking up space in these strangers’ homes until it was time to ship me to the next home. I remember I’d find my way to a new home and think, “This is the one.” Only it was never the one. No one ever really loved me or wanted me. At some point, I began to dream of building my own family instead. I wasn’t going to wait for someone to want me, I was going to create it. And that’s exactly what I did, until that was taken from me, too.
Don’t get attached, don’t love anyone. Keep it moving, Beth.
But there’s something about this place. From the first time I walked up the front steps, it felt like coming home. Nowhere in the past six years ever felt like home again. Now I want to stay, badly. I’m going to spend the next sixty days enjoying this place and these people and give that to myself, at least temporarily. I can do that again. Just like I did in foster care.
The freelance social media work I’ve done for others has resulted in a ton of positive engagement, so I’m confident that I can help him. I didn’t want to over-promise, so I didn’t tell him about my background, but now I plan on overdelivering. It’s the least I can do. And of course, the irony isn’t lost on me that I can do social media for anyone else, just not myself.
It’s Sunday already and I’ve spent the morning in my room researching both inns as a whole and The Golden Gable Inn more specifically to see what I can come up with as far as a business and marketing plan.
The inn has an outdated Facebook page. They have no ads posted, and their website looks like it hasn’t been updated in a decade. There isn’t a way for potential guests to book online. The only way to make a reservation is to call the inn. Neither efficient nor convenient for anyone.What the heck?
Within hours, I have two notebook pages filled with ideas.
I look at my travel mug. Empty. I need to go out to the lobby and get some more coffee and snacks.
I throw on my cardigan and glance in the mirror. I smooth my hair back. I’ve been working non-stop and I’m a hot mess.
I grab my key and head out, scanning the hallway. When I don’t see anyone, I race down to the front room, quickly fill my travel mug, and add cream. I snag two scones and wrap them in napkins. Then just as I turn to head back to my room, I run into a massive wall of chest.
Evan. Busted.
He smells like fall and rain. He has on a thick black jacket. His beard is trimmed, and his green eyes drink me in. Damn. This guy always looks thirsty. His arms come around me to steady me and he feels so good. I catch myself leaning into him, and judging by the way he pulls me in tighter, he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Hey,” he says quietly, his lips turning up as a surge passes between us, almost making me jump. “Are you hiding out in your room today?”
My eyes boldly rake over him. “Maybe. I came for provisions.” I pull my cardigan in around the mess that is me. Glasses, mussed hair, and comfy clothes.
“I want you to feel at home here, Beth. You can use the front porch, the back porch, or even my cottage if you need to hang out somewhere. Don’t feel like you have to hide out in your room. The inn is your home. Go where you feel comfortable.” With that, he tucks a lock of my hair back behind my ear and smiles at me.
I freeze at both his gesture and his words that make my heart feel so full.This.This is what I’ve missed. Touch. Companionship. I need this. I think I need him.
He stands so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating off his body and it flushes my cheeks. He likes me too. If he doesn’t and I’m reading this wrong, I’m going to get my head examined because the electricity that is charged between us is something I missed. It’s like you find that person that your body and soul reacts to, whether you want it to or not.Holy shit.
I clear my throat and try to pretend I’m not affected by him. “Thank you. I’ve been working on a business plan for the inn,” I say, meeting his gaze. I want to step back because the heat between us is so strong, but he’s like a magnet. I can’t.
He looks surprised. “Can I see?” He sounds excited.
I feel a warm glow run through me. It feels good to be needed and wanted. My love language is helping and serving people. And I haven’t had this feeling for so long that I didn’t even realize that I was missing it.
