In my Lilah-induced happy place, I’d forgotten all about my arrangements for the interview with Madison. And with nowhere to hide unless I darted under the cookie table, the reporter spotted me instantly.
“Holden! Thank God you’re okay. I heard about the storm,” she exclaimed, and drifted toward me with open arms. She hugged me—I did not hug back—and kissed my lips—again I did not partake.
Lilah glared. “Who is this?” The chef asked in a frosty tone, arms crossed, eyes darting between the two of us.
Madison peered over sunglasses at her. “Oh hello. Would you be a dear and call a bellman to take my bags to Holden’s suite?”
Shit. No, no, no.My pulse raced at the mess I had made.
“Holden’ssuite?” Lilah’s eyebrows hit her hairline. I needed quick thinking before she became another runaway bride, er, runaway fling.
“Uh, Madison, this is Chef Lilah Childs that I told you about. Lilah, Madison is here from Sports Magazine to do a thorough interview with the two of us about the lodge and the restaurant,” I explained.
“Chef Childs, nice to meet you.” Madison at least showed professional courtesy, sticking out her hand to shake. Lilah took it gingerly, as if it had too many germs and she wanted to avoid transferring them to her spotless kitchen—but her eyes were still locked on me, filled with unspoken accusations.
“You’re a day early, aren’t you?” I blurted out to take the heat off of me, loosening my tie. Big mistake.
“I thought we could spend some extra time together. We always had fun, you and I, and my Christmas with the family was awful.” Madison put on the full-court press, flirting with her eyes, even reaching out and walking her fingers from my collar down to my belt. “You know exactly how to cheer me up.”
With an exasperated huff, Lilah stormed away, taking my heart with her.
“Lilah, wait!” But too late, she ducked through the restaurant door.
“Well, someone’s a little insubordinate,” Madison clicked her tongue.
“Oh, Carrie—” I grabbed one of the front desk staffers walking by. “Please give Madison keys to one of the available suites and have her bags brought up.”
“Right away, sir.”
I turned to Madison. “Look, I have a day full of meetings ahead of me. Very last minute. I’ll have one of my department heads reach out to you.”
I rushed off, ignoring her protests. Finding Lilah before it was too late was paramount to anything else.
“Where is she?” I burst through the kitchen doors.
Ridley pointed. “Stormed into the walk-in cooler.”
Inside, I found her, arms crossed, pretending to inspect the shelving like she wasn’t seconds from freezing me out of her emotional orbit completely.
“Frosty, that wasn’t what it looked like,” I started.
“If you don’t mind, I have lunch to prepare for.” Her most professional icy voice returned.
“Come on. Don’t do that.” I stepped inside, shutting the cooler door behind me. Cold air wrapped around us the secondthe door latched shut, most of it coming off of her. “Don’t go Frost-mode on me.”
She lifted her chin. “Why shouldn’t I? Madison clearly?—”
“Means nothing to me.”
Her throat bobbed.
I moved closer. “She’s an old occasional hookup from years ago. We set up this interview before the holidays, before anything happened between you and me, I swear it.” I let the truth settle between us.
Her eyes flicked up at that. “For a second, it looked like you were going to be another Brad,” her voice cracked.
“No, absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Then why didn’t you tell Madison, right there in the lobby in front of me, that you weren’t available? Unless… it’s not like we said things would be exclusive between us.”
