Page 72 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Because the next day, I grabbed my laptop, found a flat rock near the stairs, and sat down to write.

And when I say write, I mean I stared at my screen for a solid ten minutes, sighed dramatically, deleted everything I’d been working on for months, and started over like a woman possessed.

My story revolved around an inn. What? I had to. And my new heroine, Sloane Mercer, was a vampire half-breed bounty hunter who tracked supernatural criminals and used the inn as her headquarters.

Once I started, my fingers didn’t ask permission anymore. They just went. Words spilled out like I’d finally unplugged something that had been clogged for years. Two chapters appeared before I remembered to eat. The next day, three more. By the end of the week, I’d written ten chapters. Ten. In less than a week.

Before, a single chapter took me months and a blood sacrifice.

Something about the waves below… or the salt air… or the fact that for once, my life felt rooted instead of floating. Whatever it was, it worked.

Margarette was going to get her novel in less than four months—and not a rushed one, a good one.

I smiled as I flipped through the ledger at the front desk.

Fully booked. Every room. Wow. If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be running an inn—successfully—I would’ve laughed, cried, maybe peed a little, and asked you to help me sell it. I couldn’t imagine wanting this life, let alone being good at it.

The last few days had been sweat, panic, grit, and caffeine held together by sheer willpower. But I’d done it. Me. I was doing it.

And the terrifying part? I wanted it. All of it.

The inn. The guests. The responsibility. The smell of coffee in the mornings. The sound of footsteps overhead. The feeling of building something real.

Hartwell Inn wasn’t just a building anymore. It was part of my life, part of me. It meant something.

And it was mine. Just mine.

The sharp clap of heels against the wood floor snapped me out of my thoughts.

Lola swept through the front door like a parade float designed by lust itself. She wore a tight red dress that looked less “bought” and more “applied” with matching red heels. On her arm, definitely not a purse, was a man.

A very attractive man. Early thirties, if I had to guess. His dark eyes were rimmed with thick lashes that felt unfair. He had the kind of dark hair that made you want to ask what conditioner he used and then resent him for needing none. He was fit in a way that suggested sports, not mirrors. And he smiled like he knew exactly why he was there.

“Hi, Lola,” I said, my own smile spreading before I could stop it. That woman had moves, no doubt about that.

“This is Thomas,” she purred, dragging a manicured hand slowly down his chest before squeezing his pec. “He’s my test run for the Pearls & Pints Bachelor Weekend tomorrow.”

Oh crap.

She was right. Tomorrow was the Pearls & Pints Bachelor Weekend. The festival. The chaos. The pearls. The pints. The men. The women. The entire town descending into organized, charitable madness.

Yeah. No pressure at all.

Lola grabbed Thomas by the front of his shirt and hauled him toward the staircase like a woman with a mission and excellent grip strength. “Later, darling. We’re off to do some bedroom Olympics. My favorite sport. No interruptions for at least two hours.” She giggled like this was a perfectly reasonable thing to announce in a place of business. “Even if you hear screaming. Lots and lots of delicious screaming.”

Eww.

Thomas winked at me as they passed.

Double eww.

They disappeared upstairs, laughter trailing behind them like glitter I would never fully get out of the carpet. That among other things I didn’t want to think about right now.

I looked down at my empty coffee mug.

Right. Coffee. My drug of choice. My salvation. The only relationship in my life that never let me down.

I pushed myself away from the desk and headed down the hall, my steps lighter than they’d been all week. The inn hummed behind me, voices, doors opening and closing, the faint clink of dishes. It sounded… alive. And I loved it.