“You can just tell me where it is,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m sure I can find it.”
“It’s not that simple.” His voice was flat, almostbored. He tossed the towel onto a nearby counter and strode past me without waiting to see if I’d follow.
I hurried after him, my heels clicking on the tile. He led me down a hallway, through a door marked “Staff Only,” and into a passage I hadn’t noticed before. The temperature dropped immediately. We were underground now, the hallway narrow and dimly lit, twisting left, then right, then up a short flight of stairs. I tried to memorize the route, but it felt like a maze.
Finally, he pushed open a door and held it for me—not in a gentlemanly way, just in a get-this-over-with way.
“Keep the noise down,” he said, his tone flat. “The ski instructors caught a red-eye and are jet lagged.”
I nodded, suddenly hyperaware of how loud my heels sounded on the floor. Asher moved past me into a small kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water, his back to me. Clearly, this conversation was over.
I headed down the hallway, passing a bathroom and several closed doors. Behind one, I heard the unmistakable sound of snoring. Another was silent. The third was cracked open, and when I peeked inside, relief flooded through me.
My luggage sat in the corner of a plain, functional room. Bunk beds lined one wall, both mattresses made up with simple white sheets. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean and private. I hoped I’d be the only one staying in it.
After freshening up in the bathroom, I ventured back into the main area. The kitchenette was empty, since Asher had already left. In front of it was a seating area with sofas and armchairs in front of a huge fireplace that dominated the room. There weren’t any overhead lights, just a lamp here and there, so the light from the flickering flames bounced around the space. It felt cozy, even if it was a little on the cold side. But the baskets of blankets placed around the seating area would help with that.
I retreated to my room and set up my laptop on the small desk. For the next two hours, I typed furiously, documenting everything I’d seen today—guest interactions, the check-in process, ideas for improving the website and marketing materials. This internship might not be going the way I’d planned, but I was determined to make the most of it.
By the time I glanced at the clock, it was after midnight. My eyes were gritty, and my back ached from sitting. I saved my document, shut down the laptop, and headed for the bathroom.
The hallway was dark and silent. I used the bathroom quickly, then padded toward the kitchenette for a glass of water. The floor was cold under my bare feet. I’d changed into sleep shorts and a soft t-shirt, along with the robe and slippers I was very glad I’d brought. My hair was loose and falling around my shoulders.
I didn’t know I wasn’t alone until I almost walked right into someone.
Asher stepped out of the shadows near the kitchenette, and I gasped, stumbling back a step. He’d changed too, and he was shirtless, wearing only low-slung pajama pants, his feet bare despite the cold floor.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His chest was sculpted, all lean muscle and defined lines, and there was a faint sheen of moisture on his skin like he’d just showered. My traitorous brain filed away every detail—the curve of his collarbone, the ridge of his abs, the way the dim light cast shadows across his torso.
His dark eyes swept over me, pausing for just a moment on my hair, and something flickered in his expression. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold indifference.
He stepped aside without a word.
I walked past him, hyperaware of the scant inches between us, and headed down the hallway. I heard his footsteps behind me, soft and deliberate, and I couldn’t help glancing back.
He stopped at one of the doors I’d passed earlier and disappeared inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stood there for a beat, staring at the empty hallway.
“Good night,” I muttered under my breath, saying the words he hadn’t bothered to say to me.
4
ZOE
In the morning,I got up early, arriving at the registration desk just as the morning shift arrived. It took me a moment to convince the staff, a middle-aged couple who turned out to be married, that I worked here. Sort of. Due to the impending ski lesson, I was wearing jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, a sweater, and sneakers. Not exactly business casual, but it was the only thing I had that seemed appropriate for hitting the slopes. And/or falling on my ass on the slopes.
The woman, Clara, showed me some things I hadn’t learned last night, like where in the computer system to find notes about the preferences of frequent guests. The list made my eyes widen. Who came up to the mountains to learn how to make sushi? For one guest, there was a lengthy explanation of exactly how he liked hisbed to be made. Another insisted on only German channels on the television.
Guests that rich and particular must really keep the concierge team busy. But in a luxury resort like this, it was the responsibility of all the staff to make sure the guests were satisfied. Which was my number one goal—if I survived the morning.
Clara was happy to answer my questions, and I did my best to memorize everything she said, as if it was going to be on the final exam. But I wanted to learn as much as I could while I was here. And also, I didn’t want to have to worry about?—
Him.
My breath hitched. The man in his mid-to-late twenties striding toward me had to be the ski pro.
He had on a dark blue ski jacket, jeans, and strangely stiff boots that looked suitable for a moon landing. If he was the ski instructor, then he was both my biggest nightmare and a dream come true, because he was drop-dead gorgeous.
