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Shit. Way to go, Gwen.
“Wait, stop. No one is getting fired,” Gwen said quickly. Damn it. She wasn’t used to making people cry. “Did you tell him what room I’m in?”
“No, he said that I shouldn’t give out that sort of information. Which I never would, I promise . . . only, it’s Mr. Brand, and he’s so sweet.”
“Right. I think we’ve established that already.” She sighed. “He’s gone, now?”
“Uh-huh. He said you didn’t have time for dinner, so he thought he’d bring it over. Said that he’d gotten them to heat it up. Isn’t he just the—”
“Sweetest,” Gwen said dryly. “Yep, he sure is. Okay, thanks. I’ll come down and get it.”
There were only three hotels in town. The one she was staying in was the town center, while the other two were further out. So he’d probably taken an educated guess and chosen this one.
Even though the receptionist shouldn’t have confirmed she was there without checking with her first, she didn’t want to be the reason she lost her job.
Still . . . she couldn’t help but feel irritated as she stepped out of the elevator.
Although . . . some of that crankiness might be because she hadn’t eaten all day.
Yep, it’s possible she was a bit hangry.
“Oh, Ms. Anderson. Here you are. There’s a note too, which I did not read. I swear.”
Gwen eyed the younger woman. “I hope not. You already invaded my privacy by confirming that I am staying here.”
The other woman’s bottom lip trembled.
“I’m not going to say anything to management, but you can’t give out information about your guests, understand? What if I was on the run from an abusive husband, and you confirmed that I was here?” She tried to keep her voice gentle.
“I . . . I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t Mr. Brand.”
“Right, because he’s so sweet.”
The other woman nodded enthusiastically.
Lord, save her. Grabbing the bag, Gwen headed to the elevators. She walked into her room and sat at the small table and chairs. When would this day ever end?
Opening up the bag, the scent of fried food hit her.
Burger and fries weren’t the wisest choice she could have made. Still, she was hungry enough to take a few bites of the burger.
Damn. That was good.
Even reheated, it was still tasty. After several more bites, the burger was nearly gone and she was stuffed.
She sighed. She felt better, even if she knew she shouldn’t have eaten that.
A couple of fries later, she opened the note. There was a hundred-dollar bill tucked inside the folded piece of paper.
Well, hell.
Shortcake,
I’m an old-fashioned guy with old-fashioned manners. And when I’m out to dinner with a woman, she doesn’t pay.
Yikes. She had to stop reading to process that. Old-fashioned, huh? Just how old-fashioned was he?
Mind out of the gutter, Gwen.
She went back to the note.
That’s twice you’ve run from me today. I let you get away with it the first time, as I know you had a right to be wary. And I understand that you were embarrassed just before, but you don’t need to be. Running was naughty and you’re in trouble, Little one. Now, eat your dinner, and get some sleep.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
Dominic
Little one? Was he for real right now? There was nothing little about her.
Feeling off-kilter, she knew what she needed. Walking over to the bedside drawer, she pulled out Butterball, her cat.
He was orange and white, and so very fluffy. She hugged him tight.
“I might be in trouble, Butterball,” she muttered. “He thinks I’ve been naughty.”
And he might be right. She was starting to feel guilty about running out on him.
If she saw him again, she’d apologize. Although, what would be the odds of seeing him a third time?
Surely it would be low, right?
8
Gwen frowned.
How hard could it be? It wasn’t rocket science, right? She’d done it before, and you never forgot how. At least she hoped so.
“Urgh, Gwen. Just do it. Stop being a wimp. If four-year-olds can ride bikes, then so can you.”
“Uh, ma’am, are you sure you know how to ride?”
She looked over at the young guy who’d just sold her the bright yellow bike she was staring down at. This morning she’d woken up with a flood of energy, deciding that today was the day she took charge of her life and started exercising and eating right.
Okay, so technically she’d fallen out of bed, stumbled around, stubbed her toe, sworn so loudly that the person in the room next door had started pounding on the wall, nearly making her pee in fright, and then she’d burned her tongue on her coffee because she’d been impatient.
Then, she’d taken herself to a local café and ordered some oatmeal, which had tasted like wallpaper paste, before heading off off to the bike shop.
