Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 57

Over the next few days, Clara was on fire, selling four to five thousand orders a day, though her fever just wouldn't let up. When she finally wrapped up the last sale, everything around her seemed to blur like a watercolor painting left out in the rain.

Her legs felt like jelly, and she sank into a nearby chair. Every last apple was sold, and the farmers gathered to celebrate their success. Noticing Clara passed out, they hushed up immediately. Her cheeks were flushed red, and her lips cracked from the dryness. Today, she couldn't even muster up a voice, resorting to typing her responses to the flood of questions online. The farmers knew how hard she had been working. She was pushing herself to the limit, and they were genuinely moved by her dedication.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Clara finally came to. Addison was by her side, checking her forehead. "You're still burning up. We need to get you back to the South Ashford guesthouse so you can rest for a few days."

Clara nodded, reminding the young helpers around her, "I have a feeling South Ashford might hit a snag tonight. Keep things under wraps, and don't post anything online."

They looked at her, puzzled. "What kind of trouble is South Ashford in for?" one asked.

Clara gazed at the stunning sunset painting the hills. "They didn't bother checking customer addresses. It's been four days since people first ordered, and those in far-off places are likely getting their apples now. With the heat down south, the apples might have spoiled during shipping."

The farmers exchanged worried glances, and the reality sunk in. "Ms. Clara, why not leave your number with us? Once we get our payments, we'd love to send you a gift. And you don't have to rush back to South Ashford tonight. We've got a local guesthouse here. It's nice and cozy, with a private hot spring. The spring isn't open to the public. The old village chief built it ages ago for special guests, but it's been unused for years."

a hot spring was all Clara needed to hear. She decided to stay and recharge for a few days. She dragged her tired self to the guesthouse and

trailed behind him. Her eyes brightened. "Mr. Dylan?" Dylan's gaze landed on the mud splattering her pants and her overall bedraggled state. Clara quickly wiped the dirt from her face. "Mr. Dylan, what brings you to

Aiden pushed his wheelchair behind

you book the whole place with the hot spring? Can we

around their boss, hung

nerve.

as you

and too tired to even consider traveling. All she wanted was a

quickly positioned herself behind Dylan's wheelchair, gently pushing it along. From her vantage point, she could catch a glimpse of his dark

black suit, asked mildly, "Exhausted?" Clara didn't expect him to ask and stifled a yawn. "A bit. I haven't had a decent rest in days. But hey, I sold all the apples here. Does

praises at dinner." Clara felt like a pariah after losing her memory, but Dylan's words stopped

turned to see her expression, his brow

off, but they didn't seem to