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As Sloane steps past me, it’s as if the spell has been broken, but I still can’t help watching her walk away toward the elevator. She glances back, catching me staring, and I quickly look away and duck into the room. Shutting the door, I rest my back against it, praying to all of the deities who will listen that tomorrow won’t be half as awkward as today was.

Once I’m showered and changed, I head downstairs in search of a quick dinner option. As I’m passing the reception area, my eyes snag on the silhouette that’s unmistakably Sloane’s. She’s frantically explaining something to the woman at the front desk, who’s on the phone. I make my way over and catch the tail end of the conversation.

“What do you mean she can’t be here until the morning?” Sloane sighs with a slight whine in her voice.

The woman hangs up and tells Sloane, “I understand your frustration, but without the ID or card belonging to the individual who booked your room, I can’t grant you another key.”

“Everything all right?” I hedge, stepping beside Sloane.

She startles, her hand flying to her chest. “Yeah… Well, not exactly. The room is in my name, but the card on file isn’t; the booking was through my publisher. They won’t be here until the morning because Highway 50 is blocked by snow, but the hotel is saying it should be cleared by then.”

“Oh. Well, if you need, you can use my card and ID to book another room for the night, and just pay me back.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you! That’s so incredibly generous of you. I can send you the money electronically as soon as I have access to my phone.” She turns to the receptionist. “Could you book me another room for the night?”

The woman types on her computer, brows pinched. “Let me see what I can do.” After several minutes, she glances up. “I don’t have anything available except the honeymoon suite. It’s $1,600 plus tax.”

“What?” Sloane coughs out. “Sixteen hundred? For one night? You’re kidding me.”

“I’m afraid I’m not. Would you like me to book it for you?”

“No, I’ll just sleep in my rental car,” she grumbles.

“Sloane,” I say softly, “I have a friend staying at the hotel. Why don’t I check if I can crash with him and his wife, so you can have my room?”

“Don’t you think I’ve inconvenienced you enough?” she chuckles.

“I can hold the room for an hour,” the woman offers apologetically. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience this has caused. It’s hotel policy for guest safety.” Passing Sloane small paper cards, she adds, “Here are two vouchers for dinner at the buffet, so you can get a bite to eat while you sort everything out. If you decide to stay with another guest, my name is Janice.” She points to her name tag. “Have them come find me with their ID, and I’ll create a second card for you.”

Sloane takes a deep breath, defeat washing over her. “Thanks. I’ll figure something out.” She then asks me, holding up the cards, “Want to join me for dinner?”

I should decline. Hell, I never should’ve offered up my room either. But the word tumbles out of me before I can stop it. “Absolutely.”

5

SLOANE

The spread at the buffet is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Growing up, my father would take me to breakfast buffets every Sunday, just the two of us, but none of them hold a candle to what this hotel has to offer. There seems to be every cuisine under the sun. What catches my attention is the pizza selection, including my favorite—barbecue chicken. I add two slices to my plate, but as I’m about to add a third, I think better of it. Despite being starved, I don’t want to stuff my face in front of the blond Adonis.

I glance over, and Wyatt is piling lo mein and broccoli beef onto his plate. He adds a second plate to his tray and starts building a salad, topped with a hefty portion of a creamy dressing. If I remember correctly, he works out often, so he can definitely afford the calories. His salad looks amazing, so I make my way over to build my own. Instead of the extra cheese and meat he added, I stick to just vegetables and opt for a vinaigrette.

With a tilt of his head, he gestures to the seating area. “I’ll find us a table.”

“Do you want anything to drink? I can grab it.”

He looks over to the soda station, then to the small bar. “I’ll take a gin and tonic, and get whatever you’d like. Have them put it on my room if they try to charge you.”

I move closer and keep my voice low. “What last name is it under?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Vennlig.”

“I just wasn’t sure if it was a pseudonym or your actual last name.”

His smile is wide, making little crinkles appear around his eyes. “It’s both. Actually, just in case they give you trouble with the room info, why don’t you find a seat, and I’ll get drinks. What sounds good?”