Inn Haven

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The Chef

I almost dropped the phone on my hand to Sam’s voice behind me.

I faced him. “Something came up, and I needed to be there in the morning.”

He nodded, but his reaction didn’t seem to say the same thing. “I’ll arrange a ride for you in the morning.” He then turned to walk away.

“Sam.” I grabbed his wrist, and he stopped. “What happened back there.” I paused. I didn’t know exactly how to label it, but one thing I was sure of, it was not just two persons kissing in heat. “There’s something more than just kiss, and I was looking forward if I won’t have to leave in the morning.”

He looked directly into my eyes before he spoke. “I know.”

Late in the evening, I turned up in bed and couldn’t fall asleep. I was torn between going to the kitchen to make some tea or going to see Sam. We only kissed, but there was something between us that was more than just sexual tension. Even him, I knew he felt it, too.

I walked out of the cabin and strolled around. I shivered, not from the coldness, but from the fear of losing my dad’s bookstore. I shouldn’t have done that in the first place. And here I thought he was trying to control me, were the truth, that place meant so much to him, and it should mean something to me, too because I was his daughter.

I found myself sauntering toward the kitchen, still in deep thoughts.

The door was slightly ajar. I stopped to a halt with a feeling of chill enveloped me. My mouth hung open in shock.

As if in deep thoughts, his brows knitted together while he was shifting the flour expertly. There were a few things on the counter. He was baking.

Sam was baking. Oh, my God!

“Sam?” His name came out a whisper. My throat choked up as I swallowed hard.

He stiffened as if someone just caught his hand in a cookie jar. He stopped shifting with eyes as wide as mine.

He put the shifter down. “Audrey, do you want anything?” Wow! That’s it?

I took a step forward. “You’re the chef? You are the freaking chef.” My tone sounded like accusing him instead of asking for a confirmation. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been meaning to talk to you, yet you just ignored my request. I felt like I was a fool when the person I’d been asking about was just right under my nose. Can you tell me why?”

My stomach twisted when he seemed cold and not the same man I kissed a few hours ago. It hit me hard. Sam didn’t trust me with the truth. The question was why? Who the hell was he?

He took a deep breath. His squared jaw was locked hard. “It’s just.”

“You don’t have to answer my question, Sam.” I shook my head, completely disappointed.

“Audrey,” he rushed my name. “Let me explain.” You had your chance.

“You don’t owe me any explanation. I get it, someone broke your trust, and you thought I was just like her or whoever bitch or asshole was. Good night, Sam!” I dashed out of the kitchen, feeling broken, disappointed, and confused.

Who am I anyway? I am just a blogger. We were just in heat and wanted to get rid of whatever tension we had in us. The truth was, it freaking hurt.

I left the Inn without saying goodbye to Sam. What was the point?

I was still confused as to why he had to hide that he was the chef. Or I was the only one who didn’t recognize him. He could be popular or something. He owned and managed the place. He was also an amazing chef. What did I exactly miss?”

I felt I lost all my strength, my inspiration, my thoughts, and my desire to write again. I just said to myself that if I had my heart broken, I could have solved it by moving on to overcome my writer’s block. Something deep inside me, I able to write thousands of words because I had a great experience I never thought I wasn’t capable of doing.

Yet, here I was, sitting on my bed, uploading a bunch of my photos to my laptop. My hand froze in the air when Sam’s pictures flashed on the screen. There was no evidence of sadness on his face. The lines at the corner of his eyes were visible, showing how happy he was. The angle was perfect, showcasing the straight of his nose and the sharp square of his jaw. He was the exact meaning of utter perfection.

An hour later, surprisingly, I was able to type one thousand and six hundred words for the first five pictures. About the cabin, the food, the story behind the famous ice cream in town, the story of the reception desk, the cliff, and the bracelet he gave me.

Before I sent it to Amber for proofreading, I attached a picture of Sam if in case, she would like to post it. It was her call this time.

I sighed deeply and closed my laptop.


I must have fallen asleep. A knock and the simultaneous ringing of my doorbell jolted me awake from my not-so-deep slumber. I walked to the door while rubbing my eyes.

“How the hell did you have Samuel picture, bitch?” That was her first words that I barely grasped.

“What?” confused, I asked. “Wait, what did you just call him?”


Unblinking, I glared at her. “How did you know Sam exactly? Did you two hook-up?”

“Wait a sec. You don’t know who Samuel is? How the hell did you become a blogger that you know nothing about a celebrity chef like him?”

“Ouch. That’s offending.” Wait. A celebrity chef? My eyes grew big. My brain was suddenly on alert. “You must have been mistaken him with someone else. He cooked, yeah, but—” I found my hand on my forehead. “Oh, my god! How so stupid of me!”

Amber looked more daze. “What did I miss, Audrey?”

“Forget about it.” I waved off.

“No way. You told me over the phone that you will tell me everything. Come on. I’ve been calling you and texting you a thousand times. I can’t post the picture without his permission.”

I raised my hand. I gave up. “Stop stop! I need a few moments to let it all sink in.”

“Did you two have sex?”

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