“Yeah, well, that’s why we also need a backup plan.” I lookaround at all the people in their cars. “This inn is the only lodging for miles. People are going to be stampeding into the lobby any minute to try to get a room.”
“Are you…” she gulps, her dark brows knitting together in panic. “Suggesting we might have to stay the night here?”
“It’s a possibility, and I’d rather sleep in a bed than in my car. Wouldn’t you?”
“This is ridiculous,” she huffs. “I’ll drive if you don’t think you can handle a little snow.”
“Allie, it’s not safe,” I say gently. I’m so focused on de-escalating the situation and making sure we’re safe that I don’t even realize my slip-up until I see her blue eyes swirling with confusion.
“What did you call me?”
“Alexandra.”
“No.” She takes a step back, the movement causing her to leave the overhang of the valet stand so the snow falls directly on her, dotting her dark hair. Broken snowflakes fall between her glasses and hang off her lashes, melting as she blinks, her eyes wide and glittery. She looks like a snow goddess, standing there in her long gray coat, now sparkling with the wetness of the snow, and her heels that are slowly turning white. “You called me Allie.”
I did. And it felt so natural. Just like it did that night…
Without thinking, I reach out and grab her arm, pulling her away from the falling snow. “You’ll catch a cold,” I scold her when she looks at me in surprise. For a split second, her features soften as her tongue darts out to lick a snowflake from her lip. I realize I’m still holding her, and while I relax my grip, I don’t let go.
“Um, did you want your car, Sir?” the valet says behind me. He’s wearing aStranger ThingsT-shirt underneath his uniform vest and looks to be college-aged, probably home for winter break. His words break the spell, and Allie jumps back, rippingher arm away from my grasp. Her softness evaporates into thin air as she pulls down her mask once again.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Go to the coffee shop next door and work on your article. We can try to wait out the storm, but I’ll get us a room at the inn just in case and call Skylar to let her know what’s going on.”
Allie looks down at the ground and her shoes, which are now completely soaked through with snow. “Okay,” she says quietly. I let the valet know we won’t be needing the car and make my way over to the lobby.
“You’re a lucky man,” the receptionist at the front desk says in an overly enthusiastic voice. “We have one room left. Let me see,” she bends down to look closer at her computer screen. “Ah, yes, it’s our sound-view deluxe room with a queen bed and a fireplace.”
“Sounds great. Is there a pull-out couch or anything?”
“No, sorry. This room doesn’t have a couch.”
“Do you have an extra cot you can have delivered to the room? I’m here with my co-worker.” I flash her a smile.
“No, sorry, we don’t have…cots.” She swallows before saying that last word and looks mildly offended at my suggestion. Which is ridiculous. My family has been in the hotel business my whole life. We have over thirty hotels in the northeast and have even started expanding into the Midwest a bit. Tyler Hotels has both mid-level and upscale properties, but even at our fanciest hotels, we always have extra bedding options for the comfort of our guests. Not at the illustrious Baybridge Inn, though. They’d apparently rather force unwilling people into bed together.
Are you unwilling?
“I’ll take it,” I say, ignoring the voice in my head and handing over my credit card to hold the reservation. We can figure out our sleeping arrangements later. If it comes to that. I’m still hoping the snow will stop and the plows will clear theroads so we can head back to Emberfield tonight. Allie is going to be pissed, but I’ll deal with her later too. As the receptionist hands me two key cards and starts explaining their breakfast buffet, I notice there’s a store off the side of the lobby. I can see through the window that it’s not a regular hotel gift shop. It’s one of those expensive boutique stores where a simple T-shirt costs seventy-five dollars. Yet, the thought of a certain pair of damp shoes and frost-laced eyelashes has me heading over to the shop after squaring everything away at the front desk.
By the timeevening rolls around and the sun starts to dip below the horizon, two things are abundantly clear: the snow is nowhere close to stopping and Allie is beyond pissed. She stares at the queen-sized bed in our room as if it’s going to grow claws and attack her.
“You have to be fucking kidding me!” she yells, throwing her hands up.
“It’s this or sleep in my car. You can take your pick. I, on the other hand, am going to order some room service and watch a movie. Might as well take advantage of the situation.”
Allie lets out a low growl and stomps to the bathroom, whipping open the door before slamming it shut. I can hear her heels clacking on the tiled floors, and I’m reminded of the purchase I made earlier. I open the tan shopping bag with the store’s logo written in loopy cursive and take out the clothing I purchased, placing the neatly folded pile on the side of the bathroom door. It’s just a pair of leggings and a gray T-shirt that says ‘Baybridge Inn’ on it. I bought a pair of socks too. Her feet looked so cold earlier in those snow-covered heels.
The sink stops running and Allie flies out of the bathroom, nearly tripping on the clothes. “What is—” she looks closer. “What are these?”
“I picked them up in the gift shop. Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in that outfit,” I explain, pointing to her tight skirt and blouse.
Allie leans down and picks up the leggings, inspecting the pants as if they could explode at any moment. “Ashton, this brand is really expensive. These cost like a hundred dollars.”
“Oh, yeah. There was a sale,” I lie. They were actually two hundred, but she doesn’t need to know that. Was it completely irresponsible of me? Maybe. I’m making way less money working atThe Lanternthan I was working for my dad, and my trust fund is seeming more and more out of reach. My dad has been threatening to take it away for years. I can’t imagine leaving the company helped. Not to mention, I’m already paying for this room tonight, and it’s not cheap by any means. But she looked so uncomfortable when she hobbled down the street toward the coffee shop in her heels earlier.
“I can’t accept these, Ashton,” she says gently, which is unlike her, but I’ve been seeing these tiny glimpses of her softer side come out all day.
“It’s just leggings—” I start, but she puts a hand up.
