Page 123 of The Accidental Innkeeper

“We’re just going to… take our coffee upstairs,” he said gently. “Rest a bit.”

“Of course,” I said, seeing that familiar anxious expression on their faces that I got when I talked to my book characters out loud. Yup. I was now the crazy lady who ran the inn. “Please do. Enjoy the inn. Ignore the public emotional reckoning.” I gave a small laugh.

They left quickly, like speed-walking quick. Mrs. Drew didn’t look back.

I turned back to the portrait. “See what you did? You turned me into a woman who argues with wall art and frightens the paying customers. You happy?”

Edna-portrait remained unmoved. Still, I could’ve sworn those thin lips of hers twitched—almost forming one word. Loser.

Either that, or I was officially losing it.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Loser,” I told her quietly. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

That did it. Something snapped cleanly into place.

I wasn’t embarrassed anymore or spiraling. The humiliation had burned off, leaving something solid underneath.

Resolve.

This wasn’t going to sort out itself. Dust-guy wasn’t going to magically wake up enlightened. And I wasn’t going to keep having conversations with a portrait while guests wondered if the inn came with complimentary therapy sessions.

I needed to see him.

And he was going to give me an explanation. Or I would make him give me one.

Because you don’t just plant a panty-combustion kiss on a woman and then disappear into the ether like that’s normal.

Resolute, I dropped the rag on the side table, marched toward the front desk, and grabbed my keys. Then my coat. I paused by the mirror near the stairs and caught my reflection.

“Okay. Hair’s gone rogue. Eyes are doing something intense. So I look a touch unhinged. His fault.”

Yes, I looked a little wild but also determined. I could work with that.

I squared my shoulders, turned toward the door, and stepped outside.

The inn door closed behind me with a decisive click. The ocean air hit my face, sharp and bracing, and for the first time all morning, my thoughts stopped looping.

Movement replaced overthinking. Purpose replaced hurt.

He didn’t get to decide for me.

It was time for Dust-guy and me to have a little chat.

26

ALEX

Iscrolled through email on my laptop, deleting most of the spam without really reading it—roof supplies, property tax reminders, a newsletter I didn’t remember signing up for. The only one I didn’t trash was the Whitlock Golf email about the annual fall tournament.

I stared at it for a second longer than necessary.

Golf was one of the only sports I actually enjoyed. You were outside. No noise. No crowd screaming in your ear. And at the end of the day, you weren’t competing against anyone but yourself. Your swing. Your patience. Your ability to stop overthinking something that should be simple.

That felt relevant lately.

I checked the digital clock in the corner of the screen. 9:35 a.m.

Too early.