Page 100 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Busy was one word for it.

I gave Helen a nod and guided Sabrina away from the platform, toward the edge of the lawn where the crowd thinned. Every step felt heavier than it should’ve, like I was walking in the wrong direction.

Sabrina tugged me closer. “So,” she said, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret, “I was thinking we could start with drinks, somewhere private.”

Of course she was.

I nodded once. “We’ll see.”

Her smile faltered, just a hair, but then snapped back into place. “I like a man who takes charge.”

I didn’t respond, because the truth was, I didn’t want to take charge of this. I wanted it over. I wanted my time back. I wanted to undo the last twenty-four hours and stop myself from agreeing to anything involving a microphone, a stage, and my personal dignity.

But mostly, I wanted to stop thinking about New York.

Which was a problem because my eyes kept finding her anyway.

She was pretending not to watch me now, focused on the stage, laughing at something Becca said. But I knew better. I caught her stealing looks at me. And I’d seen the way she watched things when she thought no one noticed, like she was cataloging details and filing them away.

She didn’t look jealous. She looked… excited. Which was worse.

The kiss replayed without my permission. Her hands fisting in my shirt. The way she hadn’t hesitated. The way she’d kissed me like it was something she’d been holding back instead of a mistake.

I’d felt it everywhere.

The way her body had pressed into mine, solid and warm and real. The way my first instinct hadn’t been to slow it down or pull away but to tighten my grip and take control of it. To back her up against the nearest solid surface and forget, briefly, selfishly, about consequences.

I’d wanted to rip her clothes off right there in her den. No finesse. No planning. Just need and heat and the sharp awareness that she wanted it too.

That wasn’t my usual move.

I didn’t lose my head like that. I thought things through. I stayed in my lane. I didn’t cross lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Except I had.

I’d kissed her back because I wanted to. Because it felt right in a way that didn’t care about timing or money or the fact that her life was already hanging by a thread. Because for once, I hadn’t thought ahead.

I’d just acted.

That was on me.

And the worst part?

If I had it to do over again, knowing exactly how hard it would make everything after, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t do it anyway.

I dragged my focus back to the present as Sabrina leaned in again. “You okay?” she asked, faux concern coating every syllable.

“Fine,” I said. Not a lie, just incomplete.

Behind us, Helen’s voice boomed back to life over the speakers. “And now, ladies,” she announced, bright and relentless, “let’s keep things moving. Our next bachelor is…”

Cheers exploded. Whistles and applause that felt wildly disproportionate for a guy I hadn’t even seen.

Sabrina leaned in closer. “Sounds like they’re having fun without us.”

Lucky them.

Helen launched into the pitch: job, hobbies, something about woodworking or kayaking or maybe both. I didn’t catch the name. Didn’t give a shit. I knew the rhythm now. Build him up, pause, let the crowd warm up, and start the bidding.