Page 3 of Falling Inn Love
I start to panic because there’s no way I can afford to stay here for a night, let alone a few nights, and I definitely don’t want to owe this guy any favors. I’m still not sure why he’s helping me. I want to trust people, but history has taught me not to trust anyone, including random strangers who are eager to help. There’s a good reason I keep to myself and don’t talk to very many people while traveling. I’ve come across a few creeps.
“Evan, I don’t think I can afford this. I’m sorr—”
“Relax. I know the owners. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to set you up for a few days.” He smiles at me reassuringly.
Evan parks and grabs my bag from the back. As we walk up the steps, I run my hand over the railing and glance around at the fall leaves, breathing in the autumn air. It’s getting dark and I’m relieved to not be stuck on the highway anymore.
“It’s a pretty special place,” he says as we walk through the entrance. “Been in the same family for three generations now. You’ll love it here.”
We head up to the desk and I set my backpack down. I freeze when Evan walks behind the desk and begins typing on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.
He smiles sheepishly at me. “Told you I knew the owner.”
“Evan, honey, is that you?” a voice calls from the back as a short, round woman with a cropped, white-blonde bob and bright green eyes approaches.
She kisses Evan on the cheek before turning to me and smiling warmly. “Who do we have here? Checking in? I’m Margie, welcome to The Golden Gable Inn.”
I turn to Evan, unsure what to say. It dawns on me that she might be his mother. Their eyes match, but other than that, they don’t look alike.
Finally, I say, “Hi, I’m Beth Markwell. I’m not sure what I’m doing just yet…”
Evan, still typing, says, “She’ll be checking in for the weekend.”
“You work here?” I ask in disbelief, looking at him while this woman curiously watches me.
“Yes, my family owns the inn,” he says. “Okay, I’ve got a queen bed available on the first floor. Will that work?” he asks, his green eyes peering at me, his gaze lingering on my mouth as he bites his bottom lip.
Holy shit.This man melts me like butter in a pan just from looking at him. I know I just met him, but I feel this connection with him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt instant electricity with someone like this, but I can feel it radiating off him, too. It isn’t just me.
“I don’t know how I can pay you,” I reply nervously. I wish the world would swallow me up, I’m so embarrassed.
The woman tilts her head and asks, “Where are you from, honey?”
Okay, I’m from the south where people are typically overly friendly—you know, the whole southern hospitality thing. But so far, everyone is even nicer here. I’m hesitant to talk about myself, but something feels different here. I slowly feel my guard letting down, and if I’m being honest, it actually feels good.
“Originally Austin, Texas. I travel a lot now; I’m a writer. I was hoping to stay in the area for a while, if I can find a place to stay and find part-time work.”
She looks at Evan and murmurs, “No show on our interview today.” Then she turns to me. “Well, we could use some help around here for a while. Would you be available to lend a hand? Front desk help, maybe in the dining room, too, if we need it?”
I hesitate for a moment then realize I have no other options. “Sure,” I finally say. Thankfully, the murderer vibes aren’t here.
Evan slides a key on a vintage-white, worn motel keychain with the inn’s logo in gold script and a form across the desk for me to sign.
I sign it and slide it back, palming the key. Evan then picks up my bag and heads down the hall.
“I’m glad I found you and that you’re safe,” he says as I catch up to him. “I can’t imagine my sister breaking down like that and not having anywhere safe to go. Is there anyone you can call?” he asks.
My shoulders sag. I miss having a person to call.
“No, there’s no one,” I say quietly.
TWO
EVAN
I’m in over my head.
