I glanced at my phone. It was only 2:30. Temporarily ignoring the text from my mom asking if I’d arrived safely, I gave the woman my full attention. “My bus got in early, and I had the car take me straight here. I’m so excited to be in Pleasant Hollow.” I smiled. I’d forgive her gruff tone. I must have caught her off guard, but surely she’d warm up.

Crickets. We stood in uncomfortable silence. I shifted my feet. “I guess I can explore. Can I…um…leave my stuff here?”

She pursed her pink-painted lips. “Fine.” Following her one-word assent with a huff, she descended the stairs and pointed at a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “Your bag will be safe there. What did you say your name was?”

“Adina Gellar. I’m booked for a week, but I might need to extend my stay, assuming there’s availability.” Read: You will probably make more money off me than most of your other guests. Be nice! Not that the level of hospitality bestowed upon a guest should be measured by the length of their stay.

She nodded curtly. “Your room will be ready at four. You can wait with your bags until then if you’d like.”

“Thanks?” I cursed the question mark in my tone. I hadn’t expected the innkeeper to engulf me in a hug, dangle a fresh-out-of-the-oven sugar cookie in my face, and pry into my life story and relationship status—okay, maybe a little bit—but this was bizarre. While I was still contemplating the complete lack of cordiality, she marched back upstairs, leaving me alone. I muttered, “Why, thank you. I hope I enjoy my stay as well.” I raised and dropped my arms to my sides. “Let it go, Adina. She’s probably having a bad day.”

“No. She’s pretty much always like this.”

I jolted and took a step back, belatedly noticing another human being in the common room. Sitting at the far end was a guy around my age. A cute guy. A very cute guy who’d witnessed me talking to myself. Great.

He stood. “Welcome to Pleasant Hollow.”

Very cute indeed. His wavy, mid-length (for a guy) dark locks were brushed back in a casual windswept fashion, but I suspected they’d been worked with pomade to appear that way, and he had a short boxed beard. He was tall with a chest and shoulders I could tell were broad and capable, even through the black Henley he wore paired with well-fitted jeans. And he wasn’t wearing a ring. Maybe he was the token single guy in town—the son or nephew of Ms. Grouchy.

“Thanks. I’m Adina.” In case he hadn’t heard me the first two times I said it.

“Finn Adams. First time in Pleasant Hollow?”

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

He grinned, exposing straight white teeth. “Business or pleasure?”