Gregory's footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way back to the kitchen, the door to Lena's room still freshly slammed in his mind. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of lust and shame, the memory of her provocatively shifting her dress, teasing him so casually, still burning in his mind. I shouldn't have... I need to get a grip. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but the way she had dismissed him so effortlessly left a lingering sting.
As he reached the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs hit him, snapping him somewhat out of his daze, though his thoughts were still clouded by Lena's sultry figure. Martha was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan, her back turned to him. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard him approach.
"What did she want for breakfast?" Martha asked without turning, her voice brisk as she focused on the sizzling food in front of her.
Gregory blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. Breakfast... right. That's why I was there. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the fog in his brain. "Uh... anything. She said anything's fine."
Martha turned around fully now, her eyes narrowing as she studied Gregory. He looked dazed, flustered even, like someone who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Something about his demeanor immediately put her on edge. "Anything's fine?" she repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You're acting strange, Gregory. What happened?"
Her sharp eyes seemed to pierce through him, and Gregory felt his face flush under her scrutiny. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he tried to muster a response. "Nothing happened," he said, his voice faltering. "Nothing of that sort, anyway."
Martha crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "Nothing of that sort? What does that even mean? You look like you've seen your dead mother."
Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. His mind flashed back to Lena, standing in the doorway, the way she had adjusted her dress, the way she had looked at him with that teasing smirk... God, what am I even supposed to say?
Martha wasn't buying it. She stepped closer to him, her eyes narrowing further. "Something did happen, didn't it?" she pressed. "You've been acting strange ever since she showed up. What did she do?"
Gregory stammered, his thoughts racing. "It's... it's nothing, Martha. Really. She just... well..." He trailed off, not knowing how to explain the flood of emotions that had surged through him during that brief interaction with Lena.
Martha let out a huff, shaking her head in exasperation. "Of course. I knew she was going to be trouble the moment she stepped foot in here. The way she carries herself yesterday and the way she looked at us—she's nothing but a walking disaster waiting to happen." Martha's voice dripped with disdain, and there was a sharp edge of jealousy she didn't hide.
Troublesome indeed, Gregory thought, though his version of trouble was far different from Martha's. His mind wandered back to Lena's sultry smirk, and his pulse quickened. But at the same time, guilt twisted in his gut. I shouldn't be thinking about her like that.
Martha turned back to the stove, stirring the eggs with a bit more force than necessary. "And did you at least tell her that her luggage will be arriving this afternoon?" she asked, her tone impatient.
Gregory winced, suddenly remembering that little detail. He hadn't said a word about it. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts, too distracted by the sight of her to remember something so basic. "Uh... no," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
Martha stopped stirring and turned to face him again, her expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "No? You didn't tell her?" She just stared at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Gregory, what the hell were you doing in there? What kind of fool—"
"I—" Gregory started, but Martha cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"No, don't even try to explain," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear it. You were too busy gawking at her to remember anything important, weren't you?" There was a biting edge to her voice now, the jealousy more evident than before.
Gregory felt his face flush again, but he couldn't deny it. She wasn't entirely wrong. "I... I wasn't gawking," he protested weakly, though even as the words left his mouth, he knew how hollow they sounded.
Martha huffed again, turning back to the stove. "Sure you weren't." She flipped the bacon over with a flick of her wrist, her movements sharp and precise. "You're acting like a lovesick fool, Gregory. I don't know what's gotten into you, but that woman is nothing but a can of worms which is trouble with a capital T. I can see it from a mile away."
Gregory opened his mouth to argue, but once again, no words came. He couldn't exactly deny that his thoughts had been anything but professional since the moment he'd laid eyes on Lena. The way she moved, the way she talked—it had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn't shake. Maybe Martha's right. Maybe she is trouble... but damn if I don't want to see her again.
Martha, still stirring the food, shook her head as if reading his mind. "I'll serve her breakfast," she said abruptly. "And I'll tell her about her luggage since you clearly can't be trusted to deliver basic information."
Gregory wanted to protest. He wanted to say he could handle it, that he wasn't as out of it as Martha seemed to think, but deep down he knew he wasn't in any state to face Lena again. Not after how flustered he had been earlier. I need to pull myself together before I see her again.
"Fine," he muttered reluctantly, conceding the point. "You go ahead."
Martha didn't miss the hint of disappointment in his voice, and she couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Serves him right. He's acting like a fool over that tramp. She had seen the way Gregory had been acting since Lena arrived, and it grated on her nerves. Lena was nothing more than a pretty face and an attitude, and yet here Gregory was, practically drooling over her. Men are all the same. Show them a little skin and they lose all sense.
She plated the food—a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast—and wiped her hands on her apron. "I'll let her know about the luggage," she said flatly, picking up the tray. "And I'll make sure she knows it'll be here this afternoon."
Gregory watched as Martha prepared to leave, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of Lena. Part of him wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he should be the one to go back and see her, but another part of him—the more rational part—knew he wasn't ready. Not yet.
Before she left the kitchen, Martha paused and glanced over her shoulder at Gregory. "Did you go to the other guest staying at the inn to inform that his breakfast is ready and he can come at the dining area? Let me guess you forgot about him and therefore did not inform him right..." she asked, her tone tinged with sarcasm, as if she already knew the answer.
Gregory blinked, realizing with a sinking feeling that he hadn't. In all the chaos of his muddled thoughts, he hadn't even thought to ask her name. "No," he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper.
Martha let out a low, exasperated sigh. "Of course not," she muttered. "I'll go myself to him after I give her the breakfast. You stay here and arrange the food for the other guest and try not to let your imagination get the better of you."
Gregory said nothing, watching as Martha picked up the tray and walked out of the kitchen. He felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as she left. Maybe it's for the best. I need to clear my head before I deal with her again. Still, the thought of seeing Lena again, of hearing her voice, lingered in his mind, making his heart race just a little faster.
Martha, on the other hand, walked down the hall with a grim sense of determination. I'll find out what this woman's deal is. Gregory may be too blinded by lust to see it, but I can tell she's trouble. As she approached Lena's door, she steeled herself for whatever confrontation lay ahead. I won't let her disrupt the peace of this inn. Not while I'm here.