“You know the best way to get over an ex is to get under someone else,” Mia says, twisting a few of the bracelets on her wrists. “Always works like a charm for me.”
“Yeah, well, the last thing I need is some random hookup. I’m in my thirties now. It’s not cute anymore. Most of the people my age are married with kids. Now I’m hanging out with you guys.”
Josie playfully scoffs. “We keep you young! And you know what? Maybe being a little irresponsible and breaking the invisible rules you’ve set for yourself isexactlywhat you need,” Josie says. “May I suggest something temporary for the summer? A fun little hookup with a hottie? There are thousands of people traveling here for the season. I’m sure there’s one you could have fun with.”
“Please tell me you’re not suggesting a summer crush. I’m not flinging with anyone for the season. Absolutely not.”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Josie confirms. “Let loose.”
“Hard no. Fooling around is exactly how things started with Adam. Look where it got me.” I roll my eyes and take another drink of my coffee. “I might actually hate men now.”
Josie and Mia exchange a look, and I know they don’t believe me, but they’re smart enough not to push it. My tolerance with jokes has been low lately.
Josie steals a candy from the jar on the counter, and Mia scrolls through the photos on her camera. For a second, it’s just the three of us in the empty lobby on a Monday afternoon with nothing but iced coffees. It’salmostworry-free.
Then the front door opens, and sunshine floods through as a man with broad shoulders fills the doorframe. The door snaps shut behind him, hard enough to rattle the seashellWelcomesign Josie made years ago. Mia’s head turns, and Josie’s mouth falls open. I think they’re as stunned as me, but I don’t show my shock.
This man looks like he stepped off the wrong flight and landed on our little island by accident. His white button-up is rolled at the sleeves, and golden-brown hair sits messy on his head. When he removes his sunglasses, blue eyes scan the room before landing directly on me.
He must be lost. Poor thing.
“Ask and you shall receive,” Josie whispers, jumping down from the counter and grabbing Mia by the arm. “We were just leaving. Have a great day.”
They grab their cups that are dripping with condensation and walk past him. Josie says something I can’t hear, and he flashes her a set of dimples that should be illegal. I straighten my posture and plant my professional expression while heat crawls up my neck. He’s attractive, my type, but completely out of my league. I hate that it’s my first thought. Five and a half years at the W trained me to read guests fast. His relaxed clothes are hiding something his posture gives away.
He walks through the living room toward the counter, carrying two large duffels. They’re designer, expensive. His eyes move past me but return when he’s closer. The smell of hiscologne hits me. It’s expensive, the kind of scent that’s fresh and woodsy and tells me he’s trouble.
“Carter Banks,” he states formally.
“Mr. Banks.” I hold his gaze and clear my throat. “How can I help you?”
He blinks a few times. “I’m here for my reservation.”
“Sure. Give me one moment.” I open the booking system on my laptop and don’t see one for him. I refresh, search his name backward, and even check the canceled tab. Nothing comes up, but I don’t panic. His eyes stay locked on me, making it hard for me to concentrate. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a reservation under that name. Do you have a confirmation number?”
“I can go to the Grand Palm.” The frustration in his tone is clear. “It’s more my style anyway.”
The Grand Palm is the biggest resort on the beach, the one that’s been siphoning our business since it opened ten years ago.
“Please don’t. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding that I will happily solve.”
There’s no way in hell I’m letting this reservation walk out the door. Carter slides his phone from his pocket and sends a text. While he waits, his gaze focuses on the peeling wallpaper, the worn counter, then back to me again. The B&B is clearly not what he expected.
His phone vibrates, and he glances down. “My assistant spoke with someone named Gale a few days ago.”
Of course.
I flip through the papers on the counter, then grab the notebook my grandmother usually scribbles business info in during mimosas with the Bees. Her chicken scratch is barely legible, but I find a note.
Carter Banks
June 1–Aug 3
63 nights
Captain’s Room!!!
P&Q REQUIRED!
