Page 1 of You Know You Wanna

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REMINGTON

The Greens was supposed to be the crown jewel of the Smoky Mountains, a fancy, elite resort that was always fully booked and had a constant line around the block of those desperate for the opportunity to stay.

At least, that was how it had been sold to me when the owners had come seeking an investor. So why, exactly, does it feel like Laurene and I are the only people here?

My twelve-year-old daughter looked around the empty lobby, clearly not impressed with what she was seeing. “Uh. Are you sure they’re open?”

“They’re supposed to be.” I frowned, hooking my sunglasses into my shirt collar and wondering if I’d somehow driven to the incorrect address.

If it hadn’t been for the wording, The Greens, emblazoned on the front of the wooden reception desk, I might’ve thought I’d made a rare mistake, but the name of the place was right there. I hadn’t screwed up. This was, in fact, where we were supposed to be.

Laurene heaved out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms and pouting. She glanced up at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“I told you this trip was a bad idea.”

I sighed. She wasn’t wrong. She had told me that—only about half a dozen times on our drive from New York to Gatlinburg. Two days on the road to get to a place I’d invested a ton of money in and where I’d expected to bask in the fruit of my labors, and here we were, without even a front desk clerk to wait on us.

A door hidden in the paneling behind the reception desk opened up and a man carrying a thermos of coffee emerged. He started when he saw us, then grinned and rushed out from around the desk. “Mr. Ford? You are Remington Ford, right? I’m Andrew, the day manager here at the Greens. Welcome, sir. It’s an honor to have you here.”

Laurene sniffed at my side. “If only he knew.”

I cut her a sharp glance, but this was hardly the time to get into it with my sassy pre-teen. For some godforsaken reason, she was eternally pissed at me. I knew that I worked hard, but we were here now and I’d brought her along so we could finally spend some time together.

You’d think she’d give me a damn break for that.

Ignoring her snide remark, I strode toward Andrew and took another pointed look around. As advertised, the place was stunning. With the mountains as a backdrop on one side and the city on the other, large windows lined the walls and expensive white tiles stretched out beneath our feet.

Heavy, royal blue drapes framed the windows and fireplaces—unlit, since it was summer—sat in each corner of the expansive space. And yet, there are no people. Where the hell are all the patrons I was promised?

“Andrew,” I said as I stopped in front of him. “Are we the only guests here at the moment?”

His dark eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh, no, sir. The others are enjoying the great outdoors. The resort offers⁠—”

“I’m aware.” I didn’t need him to give me the same sales pitch that had been provided when I’d pumped hundreds of thousands into this place. “What’s the vacancy rate right now?”

The guy did a slow-double take at the directness of my question, but I didn’t have time for games. I never did. He recovered a minute later, blinking too fast and too many times for my liking before he responded. “Off the top of my head, I’d say about thirty percent of our rooms are occupied this week. Give or take.”

I stared at him. “The vacancy rate is seventy percent? Schools are out for the summer and not even a third of the rooms are taken? How is that possible?”

“Well, sir, there’s, uh, there’s another resort in the next town over. Blue Pines just outside of Bluebell Hollow. They’re offering what I’ve heard is an excellent summer program. We’ve had a few cancellations from guests who opted to stay there instead.”

“Blue Pines?” I mused out loud. “Tell me more.”

“Daddy, I’m hungry. Can we just check in already?”

I glanced at my daughter, who didn’t know that this was doubling as a business trip for me, and shook my head. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ll get you something to eat soon. Let me just finish up here.”

As I turned my gaze back to Andrew, he looked a little shaken but he rattled off a few facts about this other resort anyway. “It’s deep in the mountains. Close to a variety of hiking trails, I think. Rustic. Uh, I hear there’s a lovely pool.”

“You have a pool here.”

“Well, yes. We do, sir. Three swimming pools, in fact. But theirs is some kind of indoor/outdoor business that people seem to rave about online.”

“Rustic, huh?” In other words, it was a dump, but I didn’t say so out loud. “How far away is it?”