Page 11 of The Marrying Kind
Austen slid a plate to me and straddled the chair next to me at the counter. I kept my gaze on my plate in an effort not to notice how cute he looked in the morning. He was still wearing the sweatpants he must have slept in and a faded black T-shirt. His hair was a little messy too.
Pouring some syrup on my plate, I answered his earlier question. “I’m just going to drive and see what I find. Looks like there’s a decent hotel about three hours from here. It’s close enough that I can still do some mountainy things.”
“Like building snowmen,” he said thoughtfully, glancing in my direction.
I broke off a little piece of bacon. It was sweet and melted in my mouth. My Lord, this man could cook. “And skiing. And I want to check out the ice castle. What’s on your agenda for the day?”
He wiped at a bit of syrup that was on his lip just as I was fantasizing about licking it off.
“Got to help on the farm today. We’re a little behind because we have a huge piece of land we added to our operation this fall.”
Working on a farm for a day was actually on my list, number fifty-seven, in fact.
“What would you be doing on the farm?” I asked, picturing him shirtless in a cowboy hat, waving a rope around his head.Nice.
“I’m selling beer at the farmer’s market tonight, but first I’m getting the bees settled in for winter. We’ve got to treat them constantly to prevent disease. We use their honey in our brew instead of malt extract, but you didn’t hear that from me.” He winked one of those bright eyes at me.
In reply, I mimed zipping my lips and tossing away the key. Maybe my first stop was a flop, but at least I got to meet Austen and have this crazy experience. Things would look up soon, once I found a real hotel.
“I don’t know if treating bees for varroa mites is on your bucket list, but you’re welcome to join me if you want to stick around here,” he said as he ran a strip of bacon through the syrup. Before I could answer, he added, “And you’re welcome to crash here as long as you like. I would hate for your list to be interrupted, just when you got started.”
It was a thought. A nice one, I could admit.
“Good morning, pollywog!” a cheerful voice sang out as the front door swung open.
A woman in her late fifties stepped inside. She took off a bucket hat, and snow danced to the floor as she stomped her boots on the rug.
“Hey, Ma.” Austen blushed as he stood up, taking his plate to the sink.
The woman looked up and spotted me, freezing in her tracks. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you’d have company.”
“This is Ella. She’s a displaced guest from Tompkin’s Inn,” he said.
“Oh dear. That’s rotten luck.” She pulled off her boots and crossed over to me, holding out her hand. “I’m Natalie Hart. Great to meet you.”
“You too.” I chuckled. “Everyone in this town is so friendly.”
She nodded and took the seat next to me. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Just leave me to carry everything,” a man’s grumpy voice muttered.
He stomped through the door with boxes stacked high in his arms. When he set them down, I wondered immediately if this was one of the brothers Austen had mentioned.
“Any more out there?” Austen asked.
“This is it,” the man said, and then he also did a double-take as he caught my eye. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Ella,” I said.
Austen repeated the bit about the inn and then added, “This is my older brother, Jameson.”
“Jameson, and you mentioned Noah. Are there any more of you?” I asked.
“Just our youngest, Logan. He’s a senior in high school,” Natalie said with a proud smile.
“Four boys?” I asked, a look of exasperation on my face.
She gave me an amused expression. “You have no idea.”
