Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
REMINGTON
Sunlight drifts lazily through the flimsy curtains, scattering uneven shapes across the bed like a watercolor wash. I blink awake, squinting against the early glow as it spills over tangled sheets and bare skin. For a moment, I stay still, warm and heavy-limbed, the remnants of sleep wrapping around me like soft cotton.
Then it all comes rushing back—whiskey, laughter, the sway of slow dancing, and . . . him.
I roll onto my side, half expecting to find him there. But the space next to me is empty, the sheets cool where his body should be. A messy sprawl of rumpled blankets is the only sign that he was ever here at all.
Good. This is good. No awkward morning-after nonsense, no stilted conversation over lukewarm coffee. Clean, simple—a neat little escape tied up in a bow. Exactly what I needed. A one-night stand. Isn’t that what they call it?
I slide out of bed, the hardwood floor cool against my bare feet, making me shiver. A breeze drifts in through the cracked window, carrying with it the salt-tinged scent of the ocean, mixed faintly with the lingering trace of him. For a second, I stand there, breathing it in.
Then I shake myself loose from the moment.
It’s over. Simple. No names, no strings. Hopefully, he’s already on his way out of Cedar Cove, and that’s the end of it.
I gather my clothes. Sliding into my leggings and tugging my sweater over my head, I rake a hand through my hair, smoothing down the wild mess. There’s no point lingering. This was always meant to be a fleeting thing, and I need to move on before I start second-guessing it.
With a final glance at the bed—just to be sure it’s still empty—I pull open the door, step into the quiet hallway, and make my way downstairs. The inn feels different in the morning light, quieter somehow, as if last night never really happened.
By the time I get home, the calm buzz of the ocean follows me through the front door. The faint scent of coffee from an old brew still clings to the air, mingling with the briny breeze seeping through the cracks in the window.
Whisking my hair out of my face, I head straight to the kitchen and pop a pod into the coffee machine, the soft click and hum breaking the stillness.
I lean against the counter, waiting for the machine to drip out the familiar dark brew. Outside, the waves slap lazily against the shore, and seagulls fly in the clear sky, their cries faint and distant. It’s the kind of morning that belongs on a postcard—blue skies, gentle waves, and a town just beginning to stir.
But as I sip my coffee, a flicker of disappointment curls low in my chest. I press my lips together, willing the feeling to pass.
It’s ridiculous. Getting hung up over a stranger—over a night that was supposed to mean nothing. What did I expect? A note on the pillow? A lingering goodbye? A name? I didn’t even want that. I wanted exactly this: something easy. Something that would let me forget everything I can’t control, if only for a few hours.
Still . . .
I exhale, forcing the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter. He’s probably already halfway out of Cedar Cove, heading back to wherever handsome strangers come from. And I have bigger things to worry about—like the contractors, the town council meeting, and the endless to-do list threatening to swallow me whole if I’m not careful.
I blow out a breath and down the rest of my coffee, the familiar bitterness grounding me. This is what I wanted. A night, no more. Now it’s time to get back to the things that matter—like saving the Caldwell Inn before it slips through my fingers for good.
There’s no room for distractions, especially not ones that look like charming strangers with broad shoulders and trouble written all over them.
I rinse my mug and set it on the counter, bracing myself for the day ahead. Time to get to work.