Page 18 of Falling Inn Love
“Pardon? What challenge?” I ask.
“To make you fall in love with the inn and never want to leave,” he says, not looking away. Something in his eyes makes me realize he isn’t talking about just the inn. He’s talking about me, too. And I’d be lying if I said I minded. I don’t. I don’t mind at all. I’m so into him it’s not even funny. He makes me forget my sadness. He makes me feel less broken. And I crave that. I crave him.
TEN
EVAN
Trust me. I know.
* * *
A week later, I finish mile number three and keep going. I can’t get her out of my mind. Sure, I could handle combat, stress, and physical exhaustion and still stay focused as a Marine—we trained for that—but put this woman in my inn and I basically lose my mind. All I can think about is her. My mom and Sasha love her, the guests love her, and she’s doing such an amazing job here at the inn. She’s everywhere; she just fits. She’s comforting to be around and absolutely gorgeous. She walks around in her band T-shirts and Converse, completely unaware that she’s driving me crazy.
She’s still a little standoffish. I can tell she’s trying really hard not to be connected or to get too close to us, but it’s not working. She’ll be happy, engaged, and having fun one minute, then it’s like she remembers something and the light goes out. The mask goes back on. There’s a pain that seems to take over, and it’s hard to watch.
What would it feel like to have a woman like Beth in my life? To trust me, love me, and let me love her. Decades of love. I don’t remember them being perfect. Sure, they fought, but they were an epic team. I want what they had. I could see myself making this life at the inn work with a woman like Beth. She makes me happy and challenges me at the same time.She makes me want to dream about the future. She makes me believe I can actually do this.
As I hit five miles, I start to feel tired and hungry and notice my shoe’s untied. When I lean down to tie my shoe, that’s when I see it: a white trash bag in the ditch, and it looks like it’s moving? I walk over and tear open the bag and find two black and white puppies. I pull out my phone and call the inn.
“Golden Gable Inn, this is Beth. How can I help you?”
“It’s Evan. Can you come pick me up in my truck? I need you to hurry.”
“Sure, where are you?” she asks as I hear the door to my office creak open.
“I’m off Childers Road. Before we turn to go into the inn. Do you remember that road?”
“Yes, I’ll be right there.”
“My keys are on my desk,” I tell her. “Grab a water bottle and a bowl.”
“A bowl?” she asks, puzzled.
“Yeah, for dogs.”
“Hang tight,” she says. “I’ll be right there.”
I hang up the phone and peer into the bag. I’m glad Beth can come quickly. My heart clenches as I scan the puppies and run my hands over them, checking for injuries. They’re weak, but they seem to be otherwise okay. They need water and food.
“Hey, little guys. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I take off my hoodie and wrap them in it. I pull them both to my bare chest. They’re tiny and shivering. I’m still radiating heat after my long run and they lean into me, trying to absorb it. I stroke their soft little heads and hold them close to keep them warm. They’re crying softly and that worries me. But, crying means they’re alive, and that’s what matters. What if I hadn’t found them when I did?
I’m so angry. Who would do this? We have shelters that they can be dropped off at, no questions asked. Someone who wants them could have picked them up from the shelter and taken care of them. They are mine now.
When Beth pulls up in my truck and parks on a gravel patch, I open the door and set my puppy bundle on the seat. “Thanks for coming. Can you turn the heat up?” I open the water and pour some into the bowl and watch them drink every drop.
Finally, my eyes lift to look at Beth. She’s staring at me, her eyes wide as they travel over my tattoos on my chest and biceps like she’s reading a map. She takes a deep breath and finally looks me in the eyes, her face reddening.Good.I hope she’s feeling what I feel every time I see her. I’ve memorized every freckle on her face, the way she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear and grins when she’s nervous. If I wasn’t worried about these puppies, I would kiss her until we were both breathless.
“Oh, my gosh, they are so hot—I mean cute,” Beth says as her face reddens even more.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing and focus on the puppies.
She slides over and reaches down to pet them. “Where did you find them?”
“In a trash bag over there,” I say, gritting my teeth. I stroke their heads then set the bowl down. I climb into the truck, hold them close, and shut the door. “Let’s get them home.”
“What is wrong with people,” Beth says, frowning and shaking her head as she turns back onto the highway.
“I don’t even know. They were left there to die, loosely tied in a bag.”
