Do Anything Read Online Free PDF Page A

expression shift from light and jovial to one of annoyance. My tone of disbelief has offended him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
    “I know,” he interjects. “You’re just tired, right?” He is not amused, and I pull my lips in tightly, then sigh. Leave it to me to make an enemy of the guy who owns the place before I even manage to get checked in.
    “Is there any chance you have a room available?” I ask, pulling my shoulders up and trying my best to appear sweet and innocent.
    The man walks away from me; I notice his backside is just as compelling as the front of him. Leaning through a doorway he shouts, “Bea, can you come here for a second?”
    I can hear a bit of huffing coming from an unseen room, followed by some clanging, before an older woman sticks her head out. “What is it?” she asks, staring at the apparent owner.
    “This young woman would like a room.”
    “And what exactly would you like me to do about that, Holden?” the woman snarls in an agitated state.
    “I’m sorry, Bea. I know I put a lot on your plate today, but can you please take care of her?” Now that I’ve heard it, I can’t quit thinking about his name. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with that name. It seems to suit him, I think.
    He instructs me to follow the fuller-figured woman. Her silver hair twists into a bun on top of her head, and the lines around her eyes show a life full of stories. We climb a narrow and steep staircase to the left of the bar. I can hear her grumbling. I do my best to lift my suitcase up high enough, but it still bangs into every third stair or so.
    A sigh of relief passes through my lips when we reach the top of the stairs, and I’m a little sad I’m so winded, while this Bea woman, who is clearly older than me, seems to be completely unscathed. I follow her to a side table in the hall where she flips through several papers.
    “Now, we’re not too fancy around here—only four bedrooms and the common bath is at the end of the hall.” My heart sinks a little at that confirmation. “My husband, Abner, and I stay out back in the guest house if you need us outside of operating hours.”
    Abner, the man with the mustache, who had carried in my bag. They seem like an odd couple, yet somehow so appropriate for one another. “Holden is in the last room on the left, but he doesn’t always wake up when you knock, so if you need something, you can always get me.”
    “Holden?” I had figured this out, but for some reason I didn’t want her to think I had.
    “The owner, you met him downstairs.”
    I gasp. “Wait, he stays up here?”
    “Well, yes, it’s his inn. Where else would you have him stay?”
    “No, I mean …” I don’t even know what to say.
    “I know he’s quite fit, is he not?” The woman smiles up at me, pulling out a piece of paper with details printed on it about the inn and the surrounding area. For the first time I see humor on her face, and I think I could like her.
    “I suppose, fit enough, but I also found him quite rude.”
    “Rude?” Bea seems puzzled by my statement. “That isn’t something I hear often about Holden. My Abner, now I hear it all the time about him.”
    “I don’t think accusing me of passing gas is polite or mature,” I say, my face burning from the embarrassment.
    “What?” Bea is suddenly bursting at the seams with boisterous laughter. “Did you happen to say ’Pardon me’ to Abner at any point?”
    “Huh? I mean …” I think about her question, retracing the conversation. “I suppose I may have.”
    “That’s one of Abner’s favorite jokes when we get Americans.” Bea gasps between laughs.
    “What is?” I feel as though I’m the only one not getting an obvious joke.
    “In Britain, when we say ’pardon me,’ it’s because of flatulence.”
    “Oh!” My embarrassment falls away into laughter as I realize now what she’s saying. Then it goes right back to embarrassment as I think about Holden even jokingly