Chapter 15 Sarah #2
Okay then. Not sure what to say to that. I took a sip of coffee and closed my eyes for half a second. It tasted like victory and caffeine.
“Breakfast looks incredible,” I said.
“Always does,” said Dottie. “And, Sarah?”
“Yes?”
She smiled at me, soft but certain. “You fit.”
I didn’t trust my voice to answer that. My heart felt lighter than it had been in a long time. For once, the pressure didn’t feel like it was crushing me.
It felt like momentum.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and a tall blonde in a tailored beige linen suit walked in.
“Ah,” she said brightly. “Thought I’d find you here.”
“Becca?” I blinked. “Hi?” I hadn’t seen my realtor cousin-once-removed since the first night I’d slept at the inn, when I’d been too tired to form sentences longer than three words. We were supposed to shoot the shit over a bottle of wine.
“I saw this and I had to come over,” she said, already fishing in her bag. She yanked out her phone, swiped with purpose, and angled the screen toward me. “Look. Your reviews are in.”
My stomach dropped like I’d missed a step on the stairs. “My reviews?” Oh crap. I forgot that was a thing. A very public thing. With stars. And opinions. And the internet.
Becca handed me her phone. “Your reviews are amazing.”
“What?” I grabbed it, my thumb hovering like the screen might bite me.
I scrolled.
Five stars. Five stars. Five stars.
I didn’t breathe.
“Charming coastal inn with a heart,” one said. The words sat there, calm and confident, like they knew they belonged. “The owner made us feel instantly welcome. Breakfast alone is worth the stay.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” came Dottie’s voice.
I kept scrolling. Another five-star review slid into view. “Immaculate rooms, thoughtful touches everywhere. Felt like staying with a friend who somehow also runs a professional operation.”
Friend. Professional. Operation. I stared at the words like they were a magic trick.
“I can’t believe this,” I breathed.
Becca leaned on the counter beside me, grinning. “Keep going.”
I did.
“The beach access is a hidden gem. Our dog was welcomed like royalty.” There was a little paw emoji. I smiled despite myself.
“Best sleep I’ve had in months. Quiet, clean, and the coffee never stops.” That one felt personal. Vindicating.
My chest did a strange expanding thing, like my lungs had finally realized they were allowed to take up space.
Another review: “The inn feels alive in the best way. You can tell someone cares.”
I blinked hard and pretended I had something in my eye. Dust. Emotion. Both.
And then…
There it was.
Three stars.
Just sitting there like a mosquito you can’t quite swat.
“The Harringtons,” read Becca, leaning next to me, and I could smell the shea butter from her conditioner.
I clicked it.
“Lovely location,” it began, which felt like the review equivalent of “with all due respect.” “However, we were disappointed to find our preferred room unavailable upon arrival.”
I snorted. “You booked 302.”
Becca made a face. “Keep reading.”
“The breakfast, while adequate, lacked variety.”
“Oh, I’ll show you variety,” said Dottie, swatting her spatula with a sword.
“And,” I kept reading, “we found the overall experience… underwhelming for a romantic weekend.”
What a bitch. Underwhelming. I stared at the word.
“Well,” I said slowly. “A three star is better than a one star,” I told her and handed the phone back.
Becca took her phone. “You’re not spiraling?”
“Oh, I absolutely spiraled internally for about half a second,” I said. “But then I remembered they brought three suitcases for two nights and demanded a room that was already occupied. So…”
Dottie lifted her spatula in a salute. “Perspective.”
“Besides, the majority gave me five-star reviews. I can live with that,” I said. “I don’t need everyone to love it.”
And that was the truth.
“I’ve got to go,” said Becca. “I’ve got a showing. And I’m already late. I’ll talk to you later, cousin,” she added with a laugh and then disappeared through the door.
The kitchen door swung again, carrying voices in from the hall. Luggage wheels. A laugh. The inn in motion.
I took my coffee and headed out, the words from the reviews still buzzing under my skin like a second pulse.
I turned down the hall toward the den, needing quiet, space, a second to let it land.
The room was empty, thank the gods. Sunlight spilled in through the windows, dust motes floating. Edna’s massive self-portrait leered down at me.
“Hey, Edna,” I said, looking up at her. I left the portrait right where it was, a daily reminder she’d been wrong about me.
I sat on the arm of the couch and pulled out my own phone, opening the reviews again. Just once more. For science.
Five stars. Five stars.
Okay. Maybe twice more.
I grinned at the screen like an idiot.
“You look happy,” said a male voice.
I jumped, my heart thrashing.
Dust-guy stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, tool belt slung low on his hips, like he’d materialized out of competent nowhere.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I said. Looked like Dust-guy was a bit of a stalker. How long had he been there, watching me?
His gaze flicked to my phone. Back to my face. “Good news?”
I nodded, the words tangling. “Really good.” I was still high on those reviews. Every cell in my body was buzzing.
Something shifted in his expression as he took a step in. “Glad to hear it.”
“Okay,” I said suddenly. “I need… just… hold on.”
I didn’t wait for permission.
My body launched into what could generously be called a happy dance. More accurately, it was running in place while my arms flailed like I was testing a new method of human flight. There may have been a small hop. Definitely jazz hands. Zero rhythm.
I stopped as abruptly as I’d started, breathless.
Dust-guy stared at me, grinning. “Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said brightly. “And I’m very sorry you now have that image forever. You will absolutely see it when you close your eyes tonight.”
He huffed a laugh.
Worth it.
I stood without thinking and stepped forward. The happiness humming in my veins with nowhere to go. “I…” I stopped and laughed at myself. “Sorry. I’m just…”
I leaned in, the distance between us disappearing before I could think better of it. My lips found his, warm and sure, and dangerous.
His hand came up at my waist, steady and certain, and he met me without hesitation. The room tipped, just slightly.
And when I opened my mouth and his tongue touched mine, my brain exploded.
Or I might have just spontaneously combusted.
Heat rushed from my lips to my toes, and I nearly moaned. Okay, maybe I did just a little.
He tasted like a fine wine, and I found myself wanting more.
His kiss wasn’t gentle. It was raw, hungry.
I tipped into him, drunk on his scent, his mouth, the way everything blurred together.
Desire pulsed through me at the feel of him so close, and a quick thrill sparked when he let out a quiet growl.
Damn. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed like that. Oh, yes, I could—never.
My head swam. I was kissing Dust-guy and I liiiiked it.
Wait… I was kissing Dust-guy?
I pulled back before things got messy, which was me ripping off my clothes and jumping him right there in the den. Hell, I nearly saw stars.
“Well,” I breathed. “That escalated.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”
The inn hummed around us, alive and working, but now everything had shifted.
And there was no going back.
What the fuck did I just do?