“I can do the calculations for any 3D structure. I’ll just make sure gravity is a given in this case.”
“That’s the NASA equivalent of dad jokes, right?” His dry humor usually made me laugh, but I was beyond humoring now. “I don’t have the U.S. government funds to invest here, unlike the space program.”
“I can help with crunching the numbers for that, too.”
“And when exactly are you planning to do all that?” Sebastian usually only stayed a day or two. That was the point of us.
“I need to take a thorough tour of everything, assess the damage, and estimate the needed work myself,” he said,ignoring my question. “How many contractors did you get to look at it?”
“Three, technically. The first bailed five minutes in—said he doesn’t work well with owners breathing down his neck. Translation: he couldn’t handle my big mouth.”
I was used to people leaving because of my big mouth. Even my own dad.
“He clearly didn’t know what a privilege your mouth is,” Sebastian said.
He said it dryly, but our gazes locked with a knowing look. Because we both knew exactly what our mouths could do to each other—and mine was seconds from forgetting we were supposed to be talking about contractors, not how fast I could fall apart on his tongue or vice versa.
I shifted my weight from one leg to another, as if a simple movement could shake off the heat pooling between us. “Another came in the morning and said he’ll bring an engineer tomorrow. That gave me a pretty clear indication that it’s not a simple project.”
“Let’s go to your house and talk it through.”
By now, I didn’t even have to ask myself why I was feeling a pulsation between my legs when he saidgo to your house. This man worked at NASA, but he knew how to make me see stars in my own bed.
WE WALKED INTO MY COTTAGElike we’d done a hundred times—which we had. But never quite like this.Not with a house falling apart and my life riding on someone else’s calculations.
Sebastian took a look around, his gaze doing that quiet sweep it always did, like he was mentally blueprinting the place.
I took my jacket off and let it drop on a kitchen chair. I then grabbed the planner from the counter. My inn's bible, filled with marketing scribbles, Post-Its, guest listings, staff rotations, and holiday booking plans.
“I thought if I started after Labor Day weekend, I’d be done in time for Halloween, but now I’m not sure anymore.”
He motioned for me to hand it to him.
No one else saw this version of my bible. Reception had their clean guest bookings copy. This one was mine. And mine alone. Like the inn.
Sebastian flipped through it like it wasn’t messy at all. “Cabins seven and eight are blocked out?”
“Leaky roof corners,” I said. “But nothing as bad as the main building.”
He nodded like he was already formulating a plan. “If we stagger the repairs, you could stay open at half-capacity.”
There was nowehere, not really. And yet, somehow, it lifted a corner of the weight off my chest.
I couldn’t allow that. I didn’t lean on anyone for better or worse. Becauseweoruscame with a cost—strings attached, feelings everywhere, heart apocalypses.
“Guests don’t appreciate staying next to construction sites,” I said.
Sebastian set the planner down and looked at me. “Guests appreciate special deals. And you’ve already drafted a few ideas in there.”
“You think you know everything?” I countered.
He stepped in closer. I didn’t move back. “When it comes to you, I usually do.”
I didn’t want to smile, but I did anyway. “Not this time.” The familiar scent of his body, all warm, all clean cotton and travel and light aftershave, wrapped around me like it always did.
“I’ll do this with you,” he said. Not offering. Declaring.
My fingers hooked the collar of his T-shirt before I even thought about it. “You really think you can show up and say shit like that?”
