“Very good, sir.” The man types away on his computer. A smile appears as he finds the first reservation. “We have youon the eighth floor, Mr. King. Room 817, facing the ocean.” He slides a key card over to Julien along with a paper to sign and some other instructions. When Julien is settled, the hotel worker starts clacking on his computer once more. His brows pull together as he frowns at his screen. “Martha Aldridge for the other reservation, did you say?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
He types some more before looking up with a conciliatory expression on his face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t see your reservation, ma’am. Are you sure it was made for this hotel?”
Julien leans his arm on the counter. “Please look again.” He spells my last name for clarity.
He dutifully types it in, even though it’s clear he doesn’t think the results will change. And, surprise, surprise, still no reservation.
Julien pulls out his phone. “Let me get in touch with my assistant, and we’ll clear this up.”
Julien steps aside to make the call, and instead of standing there feeling silently judged by an over-starched, underpaid employee, I turn to take in the grandness of the lobby. The floors are travertine, and the windows go up at least ten feet, letting in copious amounts of natural sunlight. People mill all over in little groups, faces animated and expressive. A woman with long black hair waiting to get on the elevator spots someone she knows walking through the door and practically shrieks in her excitement before running over and giving the other woman a hug. Everyone seems to be wearing colored lanyards around their neck, and I realize all these people must be here for the writing conference.
A pang of something shoots through me. Wistfulness, maybe? I’m not sure, but I don’t have any time to identify the feeling because Julien walks back over to my side.
“Got the reservation number from Tomiko?” I ask.
He winces. “She apologized profusely but apparently forgotto book you a room when she bought your plane ticket.” He turns to the man behind the counter. “It looks like we need to reserve another room, please. Five nights.”
The man rolls his lips between his teeth before adjusting his tie. “I am so sorry, Mr. King, but there are no other rooms available. We are completely full due to the conference.”
Julien glances over at me, so I give him a smile to convey I’m not concerned. “It’s fine. I’ll just get a room at one of the other hotels.”
The Grand Hibiscus Hotel and Conference Center employee, which I now see from his name tag is called Javier, shakes his head before I even finish.
“I’m afraid everyone along this stretch of the cape is booked solid. There are a number of events happening this week in the area.”
My brows jump at that. I can’t imagine all of these hotels without a single room available. “That’s all right. Your couch over there looks comfy. Or I can curl up on a deck chair.”
“Madam, we cannot allow—”
“I’m kidding, Javier.”I peek over at Julien.He’s furiously typing into his phone. At the angle he’s holding his device, I can tell he’s confirming that there are, in fact, no available hotel rooms along this strip of land. He looks up at me and shakes his head with a frown.
“If I may offer a suggestion?” Javier asks. “Many of the conference attendees are sharing rooms. Maybe the two of you... ?” He peters off at whatever look we’re giving him. “The room is a double,” he mutters under his breath to justify his suggestion.
I close my eyes and sigh in relief. That’s a consolation at least; two beds, not one. With the way Evangeline and Hayley have been troped in real life lately, I was afraid someone thought it was my turn and this plot twist was just a writing device to get Julien and me to share a bed where we fall asleep on our own designated sides but wake up entangled in each other’s limbs.
If having dinner with me at a romantic restaurant made Julien uneasy, waking up with me accidentally spooning him will twist him up more than a Wetzel Pretzel.
Julien’s gaze meets mine, and I know he’s resigned himself to this solution without him even having to say a word. It’s written all over his face in the quick downturn of his pressed lips before his features go blank and neutral. “This is not ideal, but...” He sighs and shakes his head. “If you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement, then we can find something on the other side of the causeway and commute.” A pause stretches before he continues. “However, I think the traffic may cause us some issues if we do that.”
Javier nods in agreement.
Julien turns to him with one last-ditch suggestion. “And the hotel’s policy on sleeping in one’s car?”
“The police are called.”
He nods like he figured that would be the answer. Turning to me, he squares his jaw. His blue eyes have darkened, and his countenance has gone back to the serious businessman I haven’t seen since that first day I walked into his office. “I know this is an HR nightmare, but I promise I will act with strict professionalism and will not cross any lines.”
I swallow back my reflexive response that, technically speaking, a male boss sharing a room with a female employee is already crossing a line. But I know what he means, and I’m not worried. Julien isn’t the type of guy to take advantage of a woman. Will sharing a room with him be weird? Absolutely. But I know I’m safe with him, and that in and of itself can’t be taken lightly nor for granted.
I shoulder-check him in a move that’s meant to conveyhey, we’re friends and colleagues. No need to look so concerned.For added measure, I say, “No worries, boss man.”
As if I’m a spectator to myself, I hear my words and see my actions and immediately groan inwardly because, yes, I just veryawkwardly overcompensated. But you know what? This is going to be fine. We aren’t sharing a bed, and we don’t have any other options. Or at least any othergoodoptions. We have to pivot and adapt and make the best of the hand we have been dealt.
I look around again at the opulence of the lobby as Javier programs a second key card for me. As far as hands that are dealt go, this one is a very nice one. Royal flush level. I don’t know when the next time will be that I’ll get to stay in a five-star hotel with an ocean-view room and not have to pay a cent of the expenses. Let’s focus on that and not the fact that I’ll be sharing said room with an extremely attractive man. One that I may or may not be developing grown-up feelings for.
I spin on my heel as my eyes bug out at this new and intrusive thought. Childhood crush. CHILD. HOOD. I can’t have real-time feelings for Julien. That would be ... Well, it would be very inconvenient, for starters. Sleeping in the same room is going to be awkward enough as it is without adding in any attraction factor.
