“I’m leveling with him. Gotta look out for my Daisy.”
“Love you, Gwen.” I usher Max to the exit.
“Love you, too. And you—just because you’ve got the sensitive Pisces thing going for you doesn’t mean you’re not trouble. I’ve got my eye on you!”
We exit and I close the door behind us, muting Gwen’s loving threats. With a couple minutes to spare, we get back to Max’s students where we started, right on time.
“Mr. Dub!” Xander yells from across the crosswalk. “We need some more flyers for the salon.”
The rambunctious crowd of students inches toward us, and Max hands some of his papers over. “That’s all I’ve got. So how’d it go?”
The students share who they talked to, who said they would show up, and who’s going to bring friends and family. All of them want Max to notice them, enjoying their moment in the spotlight when he looks at them.
I feel like one of those students, soaking up as much of his attention as I can. Basking in the sun that is Max, untilinevitably, that big star in the sky dips below the horizon to where it belongs. But I can’t ignore the shred of me that’s hoping I’m wrong—that’s wondering if Max might ever change his mind.
Chapter Thirty-One
Max, Now
I set a heavy box behind the check-in counter, hoping all this effort will be for nothing. We didn’t take forces of nature into account for opening night. Daisy slipped out this morning, waving around a news update on her phone that showed the bad weather was, indeed, likely to hit us, and about twelve hours earlier than expected—meaning tonight.
Maybe I’m overreacting, she had messaged,but better safe than sorry.
Every hour today will shed more light on what we’re up against. In the meantime, Stacey and I handle some of the preventative measures on site, like double-checking window closures and taking in decor like the wind chimes.
“Patio furniture’s next,” Stacey says as she crosses an item off her list.
“On it.”
“Oh, please. I can do that.”
“Daisy said to leave the heavy stuff to me. Show me where it should go.”
Stacey curses under her breath, but when we reach the first room, she respects Daisy’s wishes and directs me to a cleared spot in the lobby—right in front of an old painting of mine, actually. Despite the stress of the day, I smile. Daisy’s mom put that there, and Daisy didn’t replace it.
By the time we’re done, I have slick sweat trailing down my temple.
“Catch.” Stacey tosses me a small canteen of water from the fridge. As much as I want to down the cool liquid in one go, I first hold the bottle to my cheek. The chill is glorious.
“You’ve been quite a helper around here, Mr. Weber,” Stacey says, eyeing me. “Not just today, either.”
“My pleasure.”
“You enjoy workin’ here?”
“Sure, it’s great. I wouldn’t say that running a hotel is my calling, but I’m happy to help Daze.”
“Bet if you asked, she could set you up with something more long-term.”
I take a gulp, and the refreshment of the near-freezing water causes me to let out anahhhlike in a ’60s soda commercial.
“You’d get to see Daisy every day,” Stacey goes on. “Be here, support her. You like that.”
First, the stern warnings from my sister and Gwen, and now I have Stacey attempting to nail down my five-year plan. Everything about Harlow has surprised me, but staying? What would that look like?
“Family and friends get a pretty sweet discount.” Stacey continues, listing off her health benefits and paid time off.
“Why are you trying to sell me on this?”
