The linefinallymoves again, and an older couple directly in front of Tristan reaches the desk. He and I continue to chat when we’re interrupted by a loud, “Oh, no!”
“There must be some kind of mistake!” the older, gray-haired woman in front of him cries out, clinging to her husband’s arm.
He pats her hand in a reassuring gesture. “Please check again,” he says. “I made our reservation a month ago.”
The brunette behind the desk sighs. “Did you use a third-party booking site?”
“Yes,” the gentleman says. “Why?” he asks warily.
“I’m so sorry, but we’ve had an issue with reservations this weekend made through secondary sites. Unfortunately, you’re not the first couple that’s had this problem.” She gives them a genuine, sympathetic look.
“But we booked it with a credit card,” the woman says in a shaky tone. She’s obviously near tears. “Can we get a different room instead?”
The employee shakes her head and shifts on her feet, her discomfort obvious. “Your card wasn’t charged, but I’m so sorry. We’re completely booked this weekend.”
“But… it’s our fiftieth wedding anniversary,” the man says, putting an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “And we were married here. We flew all the way here from Missouri to spend the weekend at your resort.”
My heart aches for them. They had a special trip planned and now it’s ruined. I wish I could do something to help them.
“You can have my room,” Tristan says, as if he had the same thought, except he came up with an idea of how.
My mouth parts as the couple turns to Tristan, their wide-eyed expressions just as shocked as I feel. I can’t believe he offered them his room. Where will he stay? What is he thinking?
“Oh, thank you!” the woman says, throwing her arms around Tristan.
“Are you sure?” her more reserved husband asks, but I see the hope shining in his hazy blue eyes.
“I am.” Tristan grins, showing off a dimple I forgot to admire earlier. “Please, enjoy your anniversary. In fact, let me have room service bring you some champagne, as well.”
Before the couple can reply, he turns to the desk again to arrange things, along with transferring his own reservation to the elderly couple. There’s no hesitation, seemingly no concern there are no other rooms available at this resort. He just calmly does the right thing, the kind thing, and I’m overwhelmed by a rush of warmth for him, causing a lump to rise in my throat.
I watch in silence as the couple pause to talk to Tristan again.
Her husband steps forward, his arm extended, and they shake hands. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to us,” he says, as his wife slips under his arm and sidles up to him.
“You guys deserve to celebrate your anniversary here, where your love story began.”
They finally walk away toward the elevators and before I can say anything to Tristan, the employee behind the desk calls out, “Next!”
“That’s your cue,” Tristan says, bending to grab his small piece of luggage and the garment bag hanging over it.
I’m about to turn to the counter, but I hesitate as Tristan turns away from me, going where, I don’t know. “Wait.” I place my hand on his muscular forearm. His skin is warm, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. “Where are you going?” I ask him.
He looks utterly unbothered. “I guess I’ll see if there are any other hotels in the area with a room available.”
“But everyone in the wedding is staying here. And the guests too.” It would be inconvenient for him to be anywhere else.
“I’ll make do,” he assures me despite just giving away his room to strangers.
I hate the thought of him missing out on the easiness of staying at the resort because he did something nice. “You can stay with me.” The words leave my mouth before I’ve fully thought them through. “Consider it me paying it forward. You did something nice and I’m doing the same.”
He lets out an amused yet charming laugh. “I didn’t do something nice foryou, so you’re not paying anything forward.” His grin has me smiling back, not the slightest bit embarrassed by my mistaken phrasing.
“Well, you deserve someone to do something kind for you, so let me.”
He stares at me, those hazel eyes swirling with mesmerizing shades of green and brown, wide in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
No, I’m not. Too late, my thoughts turn rational. Sharing my private space with a man I fantasize about is a horrible idea, but I meant the offer and I won’t take it back.
