Page 124 of The Accidental Innkeeper

I leaned back in my chair and ran a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. I’d already showered. Already had coffee. Already reorganized a tool drawer that didn’t need reorganizing. I’d even made the bed, which should’ve told me something was off. I didn’t make beds unless I was trying to convince myself I had control over something.

I was going to go see New York today. Just… not yet.

It was still too early. Ten a.m. felt reasonable. Late enough that the inn wouldn’t be crowded, early enough that the day hadn’t gotten away from her. I’d walk in like it was intentional, ask to speak to her privately, explain what an ass I’d been, and wait for her reaction. It could go either way. She might tell me to fuck off or she might not. I was still going to do it.

I should’ve talked to you, I said the words in my head. I shouldn’t have decided for you. I left because I didn’t trust myself to stay halfway.

The truth landed heavy, but it was still the truth. And I was done avoiding it.

I closed the laptop and stood, stretching my shoulders. I was halfway to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

I stopped. Who the hell is at my door this early?

Frowning, I checked the clock again out of habit and then walked toward the front door, already running through possibilities that didn’t include the one waiting on the other side.

I opened it.

New York stood on my porch.

I stopped short, like my body had gotten the message before my head did.

She stood there, her jacket pulled close and hips set like she meant to stay put, keys clenched in her hand. My eyes registered her body first—curves, warmth, presence—before lifting to her face. She was determined, and unapologetic, like she’d come here on purpose.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

My mouth opened a fraction of a second before my brain caught up. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.”

I stepped back automatically, giving her space while still trying to figure out how she was here when I’d been planning to go to her.

“How did you…” I started but then stopped. “How did you find my house?”

She lifted her chin slightly. “Becca gave me the address.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She stepped inside, and the door closed behind her, the sound final and loud in the quiet house.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, still a half second behind the reality of her standing in my house. “Coffee?”

New York’s eyes flicked straight to the Styrofoam cup on the counter. The cheap lid. The stain on the side. The evidence of a man who drank his coffee standing up and didn’t linger. “No thanks.” She glanced around, taking in the clean lines, the neutral colors, the lack of anything personal. “Nice place,” she said. “Very modern. Very… you.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a compliment or an insult. Just an observation, which somehow felt worse.

“Sit,” I said. “Please.” I gestured toward the living room.

She crossed over and sat at the very edge of the couch, her posture alert, like she’d already mapped her exit. Like she’d come here with purpose, not comfort in mind.

“Listen,” she said, drawing in a breath. “I know you’re busy with…” She made a vague motion with her hands, encompassing work, life, my entire avoidance strategy. “Stuff. So I won’t take too much of your time.”

I stood there for a second longer than necessary before sitting across from her, my forearms braced on my knees. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I didn’t try. She was flushed, her eyes bright and dark hair pulled back like she’d done it quickly without checking a mirror.

She was fucking sexy—real, present, and impossible to ignore.

Suddenly, the rules I’d lived by for years felt thin and inadequate.

Because standing there, looking at her, I could see it clearly—a real future with her. The kind of future you didn’t daydream about but that you recognized when it was right in front of you.

Her at the inn in the mornings, coffee in a real mug instead of a paper cup. Me fixing things that didn’t actually need fixing because I liked being there. The place fuller, louder, alive in a way it hadn’t been before.