"Thanks. It's been my passion for as long as I can remember." The way his face lit up when he spoke about his work, I could tell he meant every word.
I leaned back as I watched Ashton talk about his work. "You know, I've always loved animals myself," I said, a hint of wistfulness in my voice.
"Really? So why don't you have any pets here at the inn?" Ashton's brows furrowed in curiosity, and he tilted his head slightly, waiting for my answer.
"Ah, well..." I hesitated, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "The thing is, I never know if one of my guests might have allergies. The last thing I want is to turn someone away because of that."
He nodded understanding but then offered a different angle. "If you had an animal, you could market this place as pet friendly. People love that sort of thing, especially animal lovers who travel with their fur babies."
A pet-friendly inn... The idea sparked something in me, and I found myself nodding slowly. "Now you're onto something there. That could actually work." The corners of my lips curved into a smile at the thought.
He paused, his gaze falling on the unplanted flower, the waiting trowel, where I’d dropped them by the door. "Looks like the teddy emergency put you behind on your gardening," he commented, bending effortlessly and gathering the plant, the trowel, and the gloves into one hand. "I've got a bit of time on my hands. I could finish these up for you."
"Are you sure?" I asked, a slight hesitation in my voice. "I was just about to plant them in the front window boxes."
"Sure, it's no problem," he said, already moving towards the edge of the porch, the purple bloom cradled gently in his palm as if the offer itself was already a done deal.
"Thankyou, Ashton," I called out, watching him go. My gaze lingered for a moment on the way his jeans covered his ass as he moved, and a flush of heat rose to my cheeks.
It wasn't often, if ever, that someone just offered to take a chore off my hands, and a quiet warmth spread through me as I went inside to the front desk, where my to-do list lay waiting. It was a long scroll of tasks that never seemed to get any shorter, no matter how many I checked off.
"Let's see what's next," I said, scanning the list with a small groan. My eyes fell upon 'clean gutters'—a chore I'd rescheduled more times than I cared to admit. Today, the sun was shining, the sky a clear blue, and it felt like a waste to spend such a beautiful day indoors. Plus, it was several hours until I had to worry about dinner.
"Right then, gutters, you're not escaping me today," I whispered to myself, a determined set to my jaw. With a chuckle at my procrastination, I pushed away from the desk, ready to face the task head-on. It was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.
I eyed the weather-beaten shed at the back of the property with a blend of resignation and determination. Pulling open the creaky door, I reached for the ladder, its metal cool and unwelcoming to the touch. The bucket and scraper were next, old friends in thisseasonal battle against the debris that the weather had so generously given upon my inn's gutters.
"Right," I said under my breath as I hoisted the ladder against the side of the building. "Let's get this over with." I hated heights, always had, but my practical nature wouldn't allow me to fork out hundreds of dollars for something I was capable of handling myself. Besides, the inn was mine, my responsibility, and I took pride in keeping it in top condition, even if it meant facing my less-than-pleasant fears.
One rung at a time, I ascended, the ground falling away with each step. By the time I reached the roofline, the quaint charm of Stock Creek had transformed into a distant, toy-like landscape. Swallowing hard, I shifted my grip on the bucket handle, now slick with perspiration, and started the tedious task of scooping out leaves and muck from the gutters.
"Who needs a gym membership when you've got an inn to maintain?" I said to myself, trying to distract myself from the heights as I worked my way along the edge. My movements were mechanical, systematic, as I refused to look down or let my mind wander to what would happen if I lost my balance.
The gable end loomed ahead, the one part of this chore I always left for last. It required climbing onto the roof, and I'd be lying if I said the prospect didn't send dread through me every time. I steadied myself against theladder, feeling the metal frame wobble ever so slightly beneath my weight.
"Steady," I whispered, casting a brief glance skyward. The blue expanse offered no comfort, no promise that gravity would give me a pass. I focused instead on the task at hand, reaching as far as I could without leaving the safety of the ladder, scraping away the remnants of last season's foliage, forcing myself to ignore the height, the risk, and the fear.
With a deep breath, I prepared for the final stretch. Just get it done. Then I could get to the ground where I belonged. With that thought anchoring me, I pushed the fear to the back of my mind and forged ahead, ready to conquer the last of the gutter and the day's most daunting challenge.
The last gutter beckoned, and there I was, perched precariously at the edge of the roof. My heart pounded a staccato beat against my ribs, urging caution with every throb. I inched forward, cursing under my breath for not hiring this out despite the cost. The ladder felt miles away as I made the transition onto the sloped surface.
"Almost done," I told myself, reaching for that reassuring solidity beneath my feet. Then I slipped. My foot landed squarely on a wet leaf camouflaged against the shingles. Time seemed to slow as my boot skidded, my arms windmilling in a desperate attempt to regain balance.
"Ah!" The scream tore from my throat, a primal sound of fear. I fell backward, the ground rushing up to meet me, and I knew—this was it. I braced for impact, for pain, for the end.
The crash never came. Instead, a jolt ran through me as powerful arms wrapped around my body, halting my descent. My lungs burned, starved of air from the shock and the abrupt stop. Dazed, I blinked, struggling to process that I was still alive.
"Erin? Erin, look at me. Are you okay?" Ashton's voice cut through the haze of my mind, his face swimming into focus above mine. His eyes were wide, the blue of them darkened by concern.
I tried to speak, but my throat was tight, my chest refusing to draw in a full breath. All I could do was shake my head, a tiny, jerky motion, and hope he understood I was alive but not yet okay. His grip on me was both protective and steadying, and, I simply clung to him, grateful beyond words for his unexpected presence.
He carried me inside with careful steps, navigating through the hallway that suddenly seemed too narrow, too cluttered. The familiar scent of my bedroom, lavender and vanilla, washed over me as he gently laid me on the bed. Instinctively, I lifted my feet, hovering them in the air.
"Shoes," I gasped out, my voice a hoarse whisper. My gaze fell to the mud still clinging to my feet, threatening to stain the pale comforter.
Ashton chuckled softly, the sound somehow reassuring amidst the calamity of my racing heart. "You can barely breathe, and you're worried about your comforter?"
I drew in a shaky breath, relief mixing with embarrassment. "I am who I am," I said once I had enough air to form the words. "I don't want to have to wash this comforter."
