Ben Jensen, lumberjack, beard menace, apparent sarcasm connoisseur, headed for the stairs without another word.
I waited until I heard the door to room fourclick shut, then collapsed behind the counter and covered my face with both hands.
“Fully fluffed,” I whispered. “Oh my God, Fifi, what have you done?”
Chapter Two
Ben
I didn’t run.
I walked.
Up the stairs.
Down the hallway.
Key in hand.
Bag on the shoulder.
I moved like a robot that had been sucker-punched by a human sunbeam, who wore an apron with an embroidered bee on it.
Room four was located on the right, the second door. The key card slid into the lock smoothly, as if the door knew I was coming and waspleasedabout it.
Creepy.
Everyone knew it was impossible to get hotel doors to open on the first try. It always took a few failed attempts, mixed with curses and a kick, before the doors opened.
But the room was warm, cozy, and even had natural wood floors. Whitewashed paneling. And aquilton the bed that looked like someone named Mabel had stitched it while humming lullabies and baking something involving rhubarb.
I stared at it, unblinking.
The pillows had gingham cases.
The bed frame had spindles.
There weremason jarson the windowsill filled with buttons. Not flowers. Not potpourri.Buttons.
I dropped my bag on the wicker chair and turned in a slow circle. Every detail was aggressively... quaint. The kind of place where someone might offer to knit you a blanket and ask if you’redoing all right.
There was a wooden plaque on the wall that said‘Wake Up and Smell the Pines!’next to a dried wreath.
Pinecones, burlap ribbon, and a carved wooden moose adorned the shelves.
This room was less a temporary lodging and more an interior design project inspired by a Pinterest board named Fern.
I spotted the shortbread cookie that sat on the nightstand. Lemon shortbread, apparently. Labeled in calligraphy. Probably spelled lemony for cuteness.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Focus on the details. Stay grounded. Donotthink about the woman who checked you in. The one who talked a mile a minuteand smiled as if she had invented light. The one who said she’d be in my room later and then tried to explain it with a word salad of turndown service, pillow fluffing, and possibly something about beard conditioner.
Nope.
I yanked open the dresser drawer just to have something to do.
Inside were sachets of lavender. Lavender.
