The structure itself was small, only two storeys, with wood siding that had once been blue but was now grey from the salt water. Despite the weathered appearance, the place seemed well cared for, judging by the beautifully landscaped gardens and lawn stretching in all directions. He could see the beach even from where he stopped outside the well-marked entrance. The white sand stretched for miles. Further along the beach, rocky outcrops, like fingers of some deformed giant, reached towards the surf and sky. Blue upon blue with the white-capped waves crashing against the shore. Fir trees, stunted and deformed from the battering of winter storms, hugged the ground, their roots reaching across the sand. Gulls circled the bay, rode the wind like kites, dipping and weaving in their search for food. As it was barely spring, he was sure the inn wouldn't be crowded. Peace and quiet sounded like heaven. The advertisement had said 'rustic luxury', and he was definitely ready for that.

He climbed out of the car and reached behind the seat for his bag. With it in tow, he headed for the front entrance. The cool wind tugged at his scruffy, collar-length, dark hair, and again, for the hundredth time in the past few days, he thought about getting it cut.

A noise from the side of the inn caught his attention, and so did the man he saw when he faced that way. Tall, bronze-skinned and beautiful in a pair of cut-offs and work boots, the man was clipping one of the vines that crawled up the side of the building and cursing as he pulled the leafy stuff aside. Drool worthy, Ethan thought and grinned. He'd have eye candy, at least.

He watched for a few moments but didn't want to look like he was staring, so he reached for the door. Once inside, he walked straight to the long, wooden counter ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a dimly lit seating area with a fireplace taking up nearly one full wall, windows the rest. An opening across from where he stood showed a carpeted hallway leading off to where he assumed the rooms were. On his right, there was a small dining area with four or five tables and glass doors opening onto a patio on the beach.

An older man, white-headed and wrinkled, waited expectantly and greeted him with a smile when Ethan dropped his bag in front of the counter. "Good evening, do you have a reservation?" The man flipped open a large, hardcover book and ran his finger down the page.

"Yes, under Roberts, Ethan Roberts. I booked online. It should show I paid by credit card." Ethan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and dug out his driver's licence.

The old fellow peered down the sheet and found Ethan's name at once. "Yes, here you are, Ethan Roberts. Two nights, maybe more."

"That's right. I wanted a room right on the ocean, if you have one available." He handed over his licence and watched the clerk check the numbers.

The man nodded and handed it back. "Yes, a room on the beach. It's the slow season, so one of our best is available." He handed Ethan a key and spun the book around so he could sign in.

Ethan scrawled his signature and reached down for his bag. "I'm surprised you're not doing more business, even if it is off season, Mr..."