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The inn was far more alive than it had been last night. A couple roamed the hall, turning past the dining room and toward the spa. A pair of children laughed and dashed past wearing swimming suits and carrying towels.
Junie spoke over her shoulder as she walked. “I’m ridiculously short-staffed and wanted to make sure you had a towel in case you, you know, wanted to get cleaned up or anything like that. But I checked, and the room should be fully stocked.”
“Thank you,” I told her, following her toward the front door. Rather than taking it, she turned and started up the red-carpeted stairway. My heart gave a little flutter.
There was something magical about climbing stairs and not knowing where they would lead.
“Ordinarily, we have people who clean rooms and make sure everything is in order, but this time of year is jus crazy. I’ve had two people quit on me in the last month. Can you believe that?”
“That sucks,” I said as I climbed beside her. “So you own the inn? Boone mentioned your grandparents ran it or something?”
Junie pointed down the hall to Room 11. She then turned the key, opened the door, and waited for me to go in first. The cinnamon scent trickled its way into this completely heartwarming room. It had white walls, dark wood ceilings, matching dark wood doors that led out onto what I assumed was a balcony, and an adjoining bathroom.
I wanted to plunge my backside into the plush, white armchair with its massive pink blossoms shouting all over the fabric and get lost in my own world, but Junie stepped past me and placed a box of Kleenex on the dresser.
Right. I wasn’t alone yet.
Straightening, she brushed the back of her hand against her forehead, reminding me that I’d just asked her a question.
About Boone. Right.
“He’s my second cousin. Our grandparents were cousins, and they worked together here. So yeah, I’ve kind of inherited responsibility for this place, you could say, along with my mom. Most of the time, I love it. But this year…”
Junie ambled her way toward the door with a bright smile on her face. Something told me smiling was a natural thing for her. Even as she spoke of being overwhelmed, she was smiling.
“It’s pretty incredible, being away from the hubbub and fast pace everywhere else. Once, I went to Salt Lake City. All those people and buildings and smog?” She inhaled. “Give me the open air any day.”
“I get that,” I said with a little laugh. “I’ve lived in the city my whole life. This is my first venture into the back country, I guess.”
Truth be told, this was my first time venturing off on my own, period.
Junie laughed, and her expression lit up a few freckles dusting across her nose. “Back country is about right. Well, I’d better get going. See you later.”
“Junie,” I said, catching her before she left. “Thanks for the room.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said. “I swear. Here. It’s a list of the amenities we offer. Make sure you hit up the spa while you’re here. The ladies there are amazing.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the pamphlet from her.
I wasn’t here to get pampered, but a break from writing wouldn’t hurt. Once I finally got to dive in.
And having this room now? Without the pressure of Boone breathing down my back over being here?
This might sound awful, but I couldn’t wait for Junie to leave. I was so ready to settle into that chair with my laptop and bring my characters to life.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Junie said, and then she was out, closing the door behind her.
There was something so relaxing about having space to myself. Even though I’d fallen asleep last night, I hadn’t truly been comfortable, not with Boone’s crazed interruption or the image of his bare chest parading through my mind all night long. Or the fact that so much cold air seeped in through the window.
This room was a toasty, perfect temperature. Once I placed my suitcase and the few clothes that needed to be hung up into the closet, I all but swan-dived into the chair and lost myself.
My fingers flew across the keys, transporting the words I’d written in my notebook earlier onto the screen and adding some more in the meantime. Normally, I was lucky if I got around two thousand words a day, but here? Now?
I wasn’t sure if it was the setting, the cozy room, or the fact that the kinks seemed to have been ironed out, but before I knew it, hours had passed, and I’d jumped about 10K in my word count.
“What the—what? That never happens!”
I placed my laptop onto the floor and stood, feeling a much-needed stretch in my thighs and lower back. And my stomach grumbled to boot. Sure enough, it was nearing lunch time.
