By admin Hubby 12
The mountain air felt different now–cleaner, somehow. Three years had passed since Mom and I opened our inn, and I’d finally found peace in this quiet routine. Every morning. I’d wake to the sound of birds and the distant hum of our few guests enjoying breakfast on the terrace.
“Nerina, there’s a gentleman here asking about our long–term rates.” Mom called from the front desk.
I glanced up from the financial reports I’d been reviewing. A tall man in an expensive suit stood in our modest lobby, looking completely out of place among
the rustic furniture and mountain décor.
“I’m Gabriel Ferrara,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m looking for somewhere quiet to work for the next few weeks. Your inn was highly recommended.”
His handshake was firm, confident. There was something magnetic about his presence–the way he commanded attention without trying.
‘We don’t usually host business retreats,” I said carefully.
I’m not looking for a retreat. Just peace and quiet. I promise I won’t disturb your other guests.”
Mom appeared beside me, already charmed. “Of course we can accommodate you, Mr. Ferrara. Nerina, show him the garden suite.”
As I led him through the inn, Gabriel asked thoughtful questions about the property, the local area, our seasonal occupancy rates. Not the usual tourist nquiries.
You know a lot about hospitality management,” I observed.
I know a lot about business in general,” he replied with a slight smile. “Though I have to admit, this is much more charming than the corporate hotels I usuall requent.”
hat evening, I found him on the terrace with his laptop, phone pressed to his ear.
No, the Hartwell acquisition can wait until I’m back in New York. I said I need two weeks minimum… Because I’m finally somewhere I can think clearly.”
When he noticed me, he quickly ended his call.
Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb your workspace,” I said, setting down a tray of coffee and local pastries.
You’re not disturbing anything. In fact, you’re the best part of being here.”
he compliment caught me off guard. “I just brought coffee.”
meant your smile. It’s the first genuine one I’ve seen in months.”
leat crept up my neck. “Mr. Ferrara-”
Gabriel. And I hope that wasn’t inappropriate. I just… it’s refreshing to meet someone who seems genuinely content with their life.”
Content isn’t the word I’d use,” I admitted, surprising myself. “More like… grateful.”
Grateful?”
gestured toward the mountain view. “For second chances, I suppose.”
Something shifted in his expression–curiosity mixed with understanding. “We all deserve those.”
Over the next two weeks, our conversations grew longer and more personal. Gabriel would help me with morning chores, carrying firewood or assisting with
guest check–ins. He seemed genuinely interested in how we ran the inn, offering suggestions without being condescending.
“You could easily expand this operation,” he said one evening as we walked the garden path. “Add a conference center, maybe some luxury cabins.“
“I’m not interested in expanding,” I replied. “This size feels… manageable.”
“Manageable, or safe?”
I stopped walking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing critical. I just recognize someone who’s been hurt before.”
His directness should have made me defensive. Instead, it felt oddly comforting.
“And what if I have been?”
“Then whoever hurt you was an idiot.”
When Gabriel’s two weeks ended, he extended his stay. Then extended again.
“My board thinks I’ve lost my mind,” he confessed over dinner at a local restaurant. “Taking meetings from a mountain inn in the middle of nowhere.”
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
“Probably. But I haven’t felt this clear–headed in years.” He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “I think it’s because of you.”
‘Gabriel…”
‘I know this is complicated. I live in New York, you have your life here. But I’d like to try, if you’re willing.”
Looking into his eyes, I saw something I’d almost forgotten existed–genuine affection without agenda. Not the obsessive intensity that had destroyed me before out something steady and warm.
I’m willing,” I whispered.
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