The place looks like the front of a postcard. Several well-kept, quaint cabins are positioned in a semi-circle around a luxurious lodge, all set among scattered pines and wildflowers on the side of the snow-capped mountainous backdrop. Add in the clear, bright blue sky and the cheerful songs of the morning birds, and I think Caleb may be onto something about the whole Heaven thing.

When we turn the rounded corner in the dirt path, only a few yards from the front steps of the main house, I see a girl standing on the opposite end of the wraparound porch, her head bobbing up and down to whatever music is flowing from the earbuds tucked underneath her long, braided pigtails. At first, she’s completely oblivious to our presence as she digs through the tan wicker basket she’s toting on one arm, but as we grow closer, she either senses our approach or sees us out of the corner of her eye, and lifts her gaze to meet ours.

The moment my eyes meet hers, the breath hitches in my lungs and I stop dead in my tracks, completely caught off-guard by the sight of her. Hudson—wearing an old, plaid, flannel button-up, black leggings, furry boots, and not a drop of makeup—might actually be the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.

And suddenly, I realize I’m the farthest place from Heaven I could ever be. Only in Hell would a creature so beautiful be dangled in my face, along with the knowledge that I can’t have her.

My morning chores start early. Like sunrise early. Every single day.

That’s the thing with a bed-and-breakfast—the guests kind of expect breakfast each morning. And from the time I was about thirteen, it’s been my contribution to the family business.

Well, that and my horticulture skills, which is my true love.

After being kept awake by bizarre dreams that I can’t recall, I only manage about four hours of sleep before my alarm clock buzzes at its usual pre-dawn hour. Drowsily, I crawl out of bed, throw on some warm clothes, not caring in the least if they match or not, and braid my hair into two pigtails—one of my go-to styles to keep my long locks out of my face. Once I take care of the normal business in the bathroom, I shrug on my jacket, step into my boots, and slip in my earbuds before heading outside, careful not to wake up anyone else in the house.

The overwhelmingly pungent scent of the thriving cannabis plants greets me the second I open the door to the smaller of the two greenhouses. Smiling at the sight of my babies, organized in perfect rows throughout the rectangular space, I pick up the clipboard off the work desk to my right and begin my rounds.

Watering, adjusting for maximum light absorption, and charting stages of growth are only the basics in cultivating marijuana.  These plants, especially the more exotic strains I’ve recently crossbred, truly need to be cared for several times a day with a lot of patience and dedication. Even the smallest change in the environment can cause them to stress, which most often leads to producing weed that can’t be harvested.

It takes me about an hour to attend to everything necessary, and as I’m locking up behind myself, the first glow of the morning sunlight begins to peek out from behind the rocky horizon, letting me know I’m right on schedule. After nearly six years of doing this, I’ve just about mastered the timing into an exact science.

The larger greenhouse is chock full of a wide variety of garden vegetables and fruits, along with a small area where I grow all of the herbs we use in the kitchen. A fusion of edible aromas permeate the air, causing a rumbling in my belly that kicks me into high-gear, knowing as soon as I finish up here, I’ll be able to enjoy a delicious breakfast before I begin preparing everyone else’s.

At a little past eight, I’m finally making the short trek to the main lodge with the fruits of my labor—quite literally—in tow, looking forward to a piping-hot cup of coffee to help me thaw out from the morning frost. However, when I reach the porch, I can’t remember if I dropped the baggie of the Pink Lemonade buds into the basket that I promised my dad I’d bring for him to try. Stopping to sort through the onions, potatoes, and parsley, I find what I’m looking for, relieved I don’t have to double back.

Lifting my gaze back to the front door, I’m startled to find Mary, Crew, and Caleb moving in my direction, oblivious to their approach with Ween jamming out in my ears. I have every intention of wishing them a friendly good morning right away, but when my eyes lock onto Crew’s, something funny happens. A wave of awareness that those green eyes are the same ones from my forgotten dreams last night crashes through me, leaving me short of breath and lightheaded.

In my half-asleep state this morning, I hadn’t allowed my mind to drift off to recall yesterday’s events, not thinking about my uninspiring date, or the gorgeous stranger and the way he’d rattled me at dinner, which was probably part of the reason my date only seemed ho-hum.

“Good morning, Hudson,” Mary says cheerfully once they’re within a couple of feet of where I’m standing. Her curious eyes dart back and forth between me and Crew, who stopped walking when I looked up at them, but she doesn’t say anything else.

Somehow finding my voice, I rip my stare from his and curl the corner of my mouth up in a friendly expression. “G’morning!” I exclaim a little too excitedly, over-compensating for my brief moment of idiocy. “You guys are up early. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Caleb nods, grinning roguishly as he opens the door for all of us, “but it would’ve been much better if you were curled up next to me, keeping me warm.”

With eyes as big as saucers, Mary gasps and lightly smacks him on the side of the head. “Caleb Anthony, you apologize right now. I did not raise you to speak like that to women. What in the world has gotten into you lately?”

He steals a glimpse over at Crew, who’s now joined his family and doing a poor job of hiding his amusement, and then returns his eyes back to me. “It wasn’t meant to be disrespectful, Hudson. It’s just that you’re a beautiful girl and I’m a strapping stud, so now that I’ve turned fifteen, which is when Crew bagged his—”

“What he means to say is he’s very sorry and won’t speak to you like that again.” Crew steps in between me and his little brother, the smirk gone as he spears Caleb with a fiery stare. “Wasn’t it, bro?”

Caleb rolls his eyes and sighs, annoyance written all over his face. The entire time, I’m trying hard not to laugh, because honestly, I think the stuff that comes out of his mouth is hilarious. If they knew some of the things my family has said…Grams alone could probably make all three of them blush multiple shades of red.

“It’s okay. I’m not offended at all.” I tousle Caleb’s hair with my free hand as I walk past them inside. “You’ve seen the size of my family. There’s not much that can faze me.”

They follow me into the lobby area and across the wood floor to the dining room. “I’m assuming you’re here for breakfast. You can sit wherever you’d like. I’m gonna put this basket down in the kitchen and get the coffee started, and then I’ll be back to find out what you’d like to eat.”

Unexpectedly, they choose a different place than where they sat yesterday, closer to the wall of windows, which I find odd, because nearly all of our guests sit in the exact same chairs every time they eat here. It’s almost as if they claim a ‘spot’ for the duration of their stay.

Though, I really shouldn’t be surprised; there’s nothing about this family that’s been normal from the moment they arrived, beginning with the fact I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a teenager, much less two, at the resort. Families that visit Breckenridge usually stay in town, closer to the action, not out here, where people come to relax in the peace and quiet.