Before I could start reading, the dryer chimed, signalling that the cycle was complete. I stood up and made my way into the laundry room, ready to switch the load and start folding.
The back door beeped as someone opened it. I looked over, my heart fluttering when Noah stepped inside. He was dressed warmly in a winter jacket, his long hair pulled back and tucked beneath a black hat that had the resort logo on it. He blinked away the snowflakes on his lashes, almost seeming to freeze when he saw me.
Dimples on his cheeks appeared when he smiled, his eyes lighting up. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” I replied, although it seemed I’d suddenly forgotten how to fold a fitted sheet.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Noah chuckled, moving over to assist me.
If he weren’t technically my boss, I’d snap at him that I could figure it out myself, but he was my boss, so I let him help me. Our fingers brushed against each other as we folded the sheet together, a current sparking between us—likely from the static of the sheet, but Noah swallowed hard, as if affected.
“How’s your day going so far?” he asked, his blue eyes lifting to meet mine. “Charlotte teaching you the ropes?”
“Yeah, she’s great. It’s going well. Lots of stuff to learn, but I like a challenge.”
“Good, there’s lots of challenges around here for you,” Noah said, his voice deeper than usual.
Before I could respond, Charlotte walked into the laundry room, probably looking for me.
“Oh, hey Noah! I put a pot of coffee on, should be ready in a couple of minutes.” Charlotte said.
“Great, we’ll need it.”
“Kids Club not going well?” Charlotte asked, her voice sympathetic.
“Oh, that’s fine. Those high school students we brought in are a lot of help,” Noah answered. “It’s cold and snowing, and the family in the Pine View cottage is keeping Damien on his toes.”
“The Miltons? Uh oh. What’s going on? We haven’t heard any complaints from them yet today.”
“That’s because they keep pulling Damien away from shoveling. They couldn’t figure out the coffeemaker, then they complained about the toaster not toasting properly. Not sure why they’d go to the grumpiest of us with their issues, Damien hardly has the customer service skills to manage their complaints. But he’s trying.”
Charlotte smiled, her eyes softening. “Well, I can go check on things if you’d like to help Nellie manage the front for a bit.”
“Yeah, I could do that,” Noah said, his gaze coming back to me.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered—or was that morning sickness?
Charlotte put on her coat and outdoor boots and headed out the back door.
“So, the Miltons sound like they have a bit of a reputation?” I asked, continuing to fold the last of the sheets.
“They do,” Noah said, tugging his hat off and shoving it in his coat pocket and hanging it up on the coat rack. “They come every winter break, and their favourite pastime is to complain about anything and everything they can. We’ve got a few repeat customers like that.”
“They keep coming back, though, so they must like it,” I said, placing the last folded sheet with its match. Once they were neatly piled, I carried the sheets over to the shelving unit to store them by size.
“I think some people don’t know how to enjoy themselves, even when they are enjoying themselves.” Noah snuck a smile at me.
“Some people enjoy complaining,” I said. “We had several customers like that at the café. They were always complaining about something, but they’d come back the next day all the same.”
The phone rang in the front office, interrupting our conversation, and we went back into the office so I could answer it. “Do you want me to answer it on speaker phone? That’s what Charlotte’s been having me do.”
“Sure, have at ‘er.”
It was even more intimidating with Noah standing right over my shoulder, coaching me. I swallowed, answering the call. “Whimsical Woods Resort, Nellie speaking. How can I help you?”
“Nellie, you say? You must be new!” the woman said. She sounded like the friendly grandmotherly type, the cadence and kindness of her voice instantly putting me at ease. I was new at office work, but even in the café, you could always tell if a customer was going to be difficult by their tone.
“I am, it’s technically my first day answering the phone,” I admitted, smiling.
