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I want to find a place to hide, and it’s by luck alone that Flor appears with the room keys. She doesn’t look entirely happy, but she hands one to me anyway. “They comped one of the rooms because the two suites we booked are closed off due to some maintenance issue. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, I can,” Monty says darkly.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Well, they had one suite left, so Sage and I are taking that. I hope you don’t mind,” she says to me, giving me a pout like I’d actually care.
I wave her off. “I’m fine anywhere, you know that.”
Monty grins, and I don’t, but Flor doesn’t notice the exchange. “Why don’t we all go get changed and relax for a bit, then we can meet down here before our ride?” she suggests.
I want to say no. I want to tell her that horses aren’t my thing because they’re not. They’re huge and dangerous, and I just… The thought kind of makes me break out into a cold sweat. I don’t have a phobia, but I was never the kid who dreamed of having a pony either.
They’re massive and unpredictable, and that’s not the kind of thing that gets me going.
But I know refusing is out of the question—I need to save the rest of my nos for whatever she has planned with Monty. All I can do is say another little prayer that I’m not gonna be thrown to the ground and trampled to death. My fingers tremble a little as I shove the key into my pocket, and then I turn and see the poor kid from the front desk struggling with all the bags. He’s loaded them onto one of those push carts, but Flor hassomany.
I turn to look over my shoulder, but Flor, Monty, and Sage are already making their way toward the hall that leads to their suites, so I rush over to the kid and stop him.
“Hey, let me grab my bags so it’s not as much to load on the cart,” I tell him.
He looks a little startled. “No, ma’am, it’s fine. I’m stronger than I look.”
I smile at him and shake my head. “Working at a mountain lodge? I believe it.” I wink, and he blushes. It’s sweet. “But there’s no reason for you to have to go all the way to their room, then to mine for two suitcases.”
He hesitates, but he doesn’t stop me from grabbing my bags either. Not that it really helps his burden, but it’s the least I can do.
“You know this is my job, right? I don’t mind,” he says before I can walk away.
I smile at him again. “I know. If you find yourself in my wing with a cup of Earl Grey—two creams—then maybe we can call it even?”
He brightens immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Eden,” I tell him. “I really don’t want to be old enough for ma’am yet.”
He laughs and flushes again. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I read his name badge—Phoenix. I like it. It’s a little unique like mine, and I’m willing to bet he never found his name on a little gas station trinket either. “See you in a few, Phoenix.”
Gripping my cases, I head toward the elevators on the right side of the lobby. They’re newer but seem a little rickety, but I don’t have it in me to walk the stairs with everything I’m carrying. As the doors are closing, I catch a glimpse of a man walking by at almost breakneck speed, and for a second, I swear it’s the guy from the little general store.
He’d caught my attention, the way he stood there and smiled at me. He looked like he was going to say something, but he just kind of made this strangled noise and walked off. He was probably a local—if his boots and jeans were anything to go by—and I’d been worried he’d wanted to tell us off for taking up space in their little town.
I know how people like that get. Their economic stability thrives on tourism, but they hate it, and it’s hard to blame them. I’ve spent enough nights scrolling articles online during insomnia fits and reading about how badly places like this are being ravaged by the tourism industry and how little visitors care about the places they stay at.
But it’s not my fault I got dragged out here. Well, okay, it’s my fault for still not being able to tell Flor no. I take responsibility for that. I plan to do my best, though, and remember my little Girl Scout promise of leaving somewhere better than I found it.
The elevator safely gets me to the third floor, and I’m surprised to find there are only four rooms. The place must be impossibly small, and I can only guess what the room charge is, even for the standard ones. The key card reader takes a couple of tries, flashing me the red light of doom before finally giving in and clicking open.
I push inside, and I’m immediately surprised at how homey it is. It’s a studio with the bed and kitchenette in one room. The comforter looks plush and soft though, nothing like those thin hotel blankets. There are fluffy pillows and some towels twisted to look like… a horse, I think? It’s kind of wonky and hard to tell, but there are four legs and a long nose, so I can only assume.
It soothes some of my nerves, and I quickly set my bags down and flop onto the comforter. It gives a huge whoosh of air around me—along with the scent of bleach—which I guess I appreciate, considering the circumstances. My eyes fix on the wooden beams and the wood-grain shapes above me, and I try to let myself relax.
It’s just been so long, and it’s not easy to let go of stress when I’m on one of Flor’s trips. The things she finds that help her unwind are things that just stress me out. I don’t know how to be like her—I don’t know how to switch off. Maybe it has everything to do with the fact that I work to live, and she works to keep from getting bored. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve always been a high-strung workaholic.
My boss likes to throw that around like a compliment, but I’m starting to feel the pressure of how much responsibility I take on. Every time he brags about how much I work, the more I start to feel like if I don’t perform, I lose my worth. I used to love it too. I used to hoard those compliments like they were gold.
I hadn’t realized how badly they were twisting me up until I found myself crying in the bathroom last month, choking the sound off with a wad of paper towels so no one came looking. I would hardly be the first person to lose it at work, but it felt pathetic.
