Page 48 of Pine Creek Lodge
The couple, an older man and woman with friendly smiles, nodded enthusiastically, and Nat made a mental note to reserve a table near the fireplace for them—a prime spot that guests always loved.
Once her brief conversation with the couple concluded, she made her way towards the kitchen, slipping through a discreet door behind the reception area. The shift from the airy elegance of the lobby to the bustling kitchen was immediate, but it was a change Nat welcomed with open arms. Here, the scent of herbs and sizzling butter mingled with the crackle of heat and the rhythmic chop-chop-chop of knives. Her head chef, Marco, a wiry man with a passion for creating flavors that danced on the tongue, was in his element.
“Evening service all set?” Nat asked, glancing around at the neatly prepped stations. Marco turned, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Running like a Swiss watch, boss,” he said. “Got the fennel-roasted pork ready for the special, and Sadie’s handling dessert prep. We’re good to go.”
Nat trusted Marco implicitly, and the two had established a great working relationship over the past two months.
“Great. Thanks, Marco. Call me if there’s anything urgent,” she said before slipping back out. There was always something to check, another detail to refine—but it was a kind of busyness that filled her with joy.
The dining room was her next stop. Set apart from the rest of the hotel’s spaces, it had been designed to evoke a sense of warmth and intimacy. The tables were simple, crafted from reclaimed wood, and the centerpiece of the room—a massive stone fireplace—crackled gently. Nat stooped to adjust the logs, ensuring they would burn steadily throughout the evening. She moved to the tables, lighting candles that cast flickering light across polished silverware and delicate glassware.
The soft padding of footsteps behind her broke her concentration. She turned, a smile already forming.
“There you are.” Sofia’s voice, a warm and familiar melody, still made Nat’s stomach flutter. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Hey, babe.” Nat smiled. “Already done for today? I thought you’d still be working.”
“I’m done.” Sofia raised a brow. “And I have a plan… Dinner together, upstairs. I’m cooking.”
Nat tilted her head. “Really? But you’re busy. We can just order something from the kitchen.”
“No, I felt like cooking…” Sofia shot her a flirty smile. “And I’ve come to whisk you away from your duties early. Come on, no discussion. You could use a break.”
Nat blushed – Sofia still had that effect on her when she looked at her like that. “I like it when you’re bossy,’ she said with a grin, closing the distance between them. “What did you have in mind for dessert?”
Sofia's eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she said, her voice low and teasing. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Nat's ear. “But you'll just have to wait and see.”
She took Nat’s hand and pulled her toward the elevator, tapping her key card to the top floor.
They'd moved in months before the hotel opened, making it truly theirs while construction continued below. Now it was everything Nat had dreamed of – open and airy, with high ceilings and large windows that framed mountain views on three sides.
The living room centered around a stone fireplace, with comfortable leather furniture and soft throws that invited curling up with a book. They'd created areas that reflected their individual needs: Sofia's home office occupied one corner, with two monitors and the technology she required to run hercompany remotely. Nat's collection of cookbooks filled built-in shelves, alongside the novels Sofia loved. Everything spoke of lives intertwined, of a space lived in and loved.
The kitchen, while smaller than the one downstairs, was still a chef's dream, with an island where they often shared wine and conversation while one or both of them cooked. The space held evidence of Sofia’s earlier preparations—herbs lay chopped on the counter, and a bottle of red wine was already open and breathing.
"I bought fresh pasta from that place you like," Sofia said, moving to the kitchen. "And I actually managed to make your mother's marinara sauce without burning it."
Nat wrapped her arms around Sofia's waist from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck. "I'm impressed. Though I seem to remember you said the same thing last time."
"That was different," Sofia protested, leaning back into her embrace. "I got distracted then."
"Mmm, I wonder why?" Nat teased, nipping gently at her ear.
"Because someone decided to walk around the kitchen in a little black negligée while I was cooking," Sofia said, turning in her arms. "Very inconsiderate."
Nat laughed, the sound echoing in their cozy kitchen. Sometimes she still couldn't believe this was her life – running her own hotel, coming home to Sofia most nights, building something that was entirely theirs.
Moxie appeared and wound between their legs, demanding attention. She'd grown into a beautiful cat, still maintaining her mischievous streak – guests often found her sprawled across the lobby's most comfortable chair, accepting pets like a queen holding court.
"Your daughter's hungry," Nat said, reluctantly releasing Sofia.
"Ourdaughter," Sofia corrected, reaching for Moxie's food.
“Oh no, she’s definitelyyourdaughter today,” Nat shot back with a chuckle. “Today she dug out the big plant pot next to the reception desk and took a crap in it. That’s why I sent her upstairs.”
Sofia threw her head back and laughed. “That’s my girl. Oh my, how bad was it?”
