The word “finally” hits different now.
“So fucking weird,” I say under my breath.“Like she knew I’d come looking.”
“Luke?”Connor asks.“You good?”
“I’m going in.”
“Text every hour,” Grayson says.“If we don’t hear from you, we send the cavalry.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and sit for a beat, watching the inn through the rain-streaked windshield.
Then I step into the storm.
Time to find out who “Sage Winters” really is—and why she’s been so damn sure I’d come knocking.
2
GOAT TO BE KIDDING ME
SAGE
Twenty minutes after jumping out of the shower, I'm standing in my grandmother's old suite—now my bedroom—staring at the Waterfall Suite's shower like it personally insulted my ancestors.
Which, honestly, it might have.
The October rain continues its assault on the inn's windows, creating a percussion section that perfectly matches my mood.
It's nearly midnight, and I should be asleep, but the ancient plumbing has other plans.
Water drips steadily from the shower-head despite my best efforts with a wrench that's older than I am.And the forecast shows three more days of this weather.
I’ve only got two months.Just two.
Two more months of potential guests arriving to discover their "luxury mountain experience" includes the soothing sounds of Chinese water torture.
I adjust my grip on the wrench and give the stubborn fixture another twist.
"Come on, you geriatric piece of?—"
CLANG.
The wrench slips, and I bang my knuckles against the tile.Hard.
"Shit!"I suck on my bleeding knuckle and glare at the shower.
This is what happens when you can't afford to pay Tommy MacReady for actual repairs and instead rely on YouTube tutorials and sheer determination.
The foreclosure notice crumpled on the bathroom counter seems to mock me from its position next to my grandmother's vintage perfume bottles.
Sixty days.
That's all I have left to turn this place around, and I'm losing the battle against plumbing installed during the Eisenhower administration.
Behind me, a soft bleat echoes from the corner where I've set up a makeshift pen.
"I know, Buttercup," I mutter, glancing at the baby goat currently chewing on what looks like the edge of my grandmother's antique rug."This isn't exactly how I pictured our evening either."
