The familiar bitter flavor hits my tongue and I try hard not to grimace.

“I’m really proud of you, by the way. You’re doing such a great job. I’m sure your employees are happy to have you.”

“Thanks. But they aren’t really my employees yet.”

“What do you mean?” He throws his head back and takes a long swig of his drink.

“As per Great-grandma’s instructions, a prospective owner of the new generation has to prove herself for a period of six months. If they aren’t capable, the inn will be given to the next in the family. Someone more responsible.” My voice shakes just imagining that situation.

“But you’re the only kid in your family.” Lukas’ eyebrow rises up.

I nod, pursing my lips. “In that case, it is possible to keep ownership in the family and let a competent employee run the business.”

As much as I know there’s no one else out there who cares about this inn and dreams about running it like I do, the fear of failing is hard. It sometimes cripples you. Forces you to doubt every decision and every step you’re taking.

“There’s no one more suited for running this place than you.”

Our eyes meet and there’s something in his gaze that wants me to get up and curl around him. But that would be completely out of line, so I simply nod. “Thank you.”

Silence stretches for a while, until he clears his throat. “What do we do for dinner?”

“Oh, I forgot.” I rise up quickly and place the beer bottle back on the table. “Wait a sec.” I rush inside to grab my phone and send a text to the night manager.

“All okay?” Lukas asks when I return back to the balcony.

“Do you remember Suzie St. Hill from my emails?”

“The renowned chef who is most likely a food fairy sent from heaven by your great-grandma?”

“Did I say that?” I giggle.

Of course, I remember sending him that email, along with a picture of the cakes she prepared for a Christmas wedding at the inn. But my insides feel fuzzy and warm, knowing he remembered.

Lukas nods and his smile ignites a fire in my chest that is so damn hard to ignore. My feelings for him seem to be all over the place.

“She prepared us dinner before she left for the day,” I tell him, and right on cue, my phone vibrates on the table, telling me the food is outside.

I thank the staff and roll the room service cart inside and further onto the balcony. The plates are covered with silver cloches, and when I remove them, Lukas jerks in his seat.

“Holy fuck! If you serve me this food every day, I’m never leaving.”