Page 7 of Finally Moore

My eyes snap to Hannah’s, giving her a silent indication to not remind me. “I know,” I grumble. “But my sanctuary isn’t scheduled to be invaded for another couple of hours. Until then, I’d like to remain blissfully ignorant of her arrival.”

Hannah shakes her head with a chuckle. Fortunately, she has a fair share of family issues and doesn’t judge. “Oh, some good news. The honeymooners requested to extend their stay by a few extra days. Lucky for us, seeing as the suite isn’t booked again until after the new year.”

“Honeymooners, check,” I say, then offer a silent thank you to some higher power for the extra income, as I continue to hurry around and grab additional supplies. I’m sure someone is going to need them along the way.

This would typically be done by one of my housekeepers, but winter is our slow season. Ice fishing doesn’t bring in nearly the same crowds as wakeboarding does. Needless to say, it’s not easy to afford the extra staff. Then, when school is back in session, it’s hard to find affordable help during the early hours. Which means I’m left with a skeleton crew until the ground thaws.

“I still don’t understand why anyone would want to spend their honeymoon in Minnesota, during December no less?” Hannah shivers at the thought. “I’d much rather be in one of those little huts where you can step out into the ocean, or at least somewhere warm. But Minnesota? When the best we have to offer is mosquito bites and poison ivy.”

“Aren’t they from Texas or something?”

Hannah looks at the screen. “No, Florida.”

“See? That’s why.”

She scrunches her brow as she stares at me.

“Sure, the weather here can be cold and inconvenient. But when I was living in LA, I envied everyone who got to experience a white Christmas. Seriously, the first winter I spent in Tral Lake blew my mind. The snow-covered trees, being able to curl up next to a fire without the AC going… Lights on a pine tree look so much better than on a palm tree.”

“They sound like sociopaths to me.”

“Thanks.” I roll my eyes.

Hannah shrugs. “Whatever… All I’m saying is if I ever get married, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the wedding. I’m gonna invest every penny on our honeymoon, so that I can spend it getting railed on the beach. Speaking of.” She glances down at her watch.

“Have a scheduled dicking to get to?”

Hannah bursts out laughing. “With any luck. It’s date number five, and if he doesn’t fuck me after this one, I’m convinced he doesn’t have much in his pants. Which, given his big dually, I already suspected small penis syndrome. But now, I’m convinced he doesn’t have much motion in the ocean—I mean, that’s the only reason I can think of that a man would ignore the signals I’ve been dropping.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Says MissAll I do is read about love but refuse to date. At least I’m out there. How long have I been working for you? Over a year? And not once have I seen you with a guy, not even a basic Tinder hookup. Like seriously? How do you survive?”

“Smut and a variety of excellent vibrators.”

“Your poor pussy. She must be so lonely without a real dick to play with.”

I chuckle. “She’s perfectly satisfied. Speaking of pussy, have you seen Bruce around?”

“No, sorry.”

I tap my chin. “Weird. Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.” I shrug. “It’s fine. He probably got locked inside one of the closets again when I was turning a room or something.” At least that’s what happened last time. “I’ll make the rounds and hopefully hear him howling.”

“Shouldn’t be hard to locate him. He cries if he doesn’t eat every three hours.”

I laugh and gather up all my supplies. My apron pockets are packed to the brim. I stop when the phone rings.

But Hannah raises her palm and answers. “Tral Lake Inn… Would you mind holding one moment while I check?” She listens to their reply. “Thank you.”

“I can handle it,” I offer.

“It’s fine. I’ll get them booked, then clock out.”

“Are you sure? Don’t want you to be late for yourdate.”

She waves a dismissive hand and resumes the call. I mouth “thank you”before rushing off to do the last little bit I can beforeshearrives. I manage to get through my list of chores, including unclogging a toilet, but don’t hear Bruce anywhere. It’s just so unlike him. I hope he’s okay.

Once I’m positioned behind the main desk again, I pull out my cell, prepared to post a notice in the local Facebook group, asking everyone to keep an eye out for Bruce, when the chime above the door sounds. And in walks the most fabulously dressed woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. Verywinter chic. It’s like she stepped out of one of those fashion magazines, with her expertly fitted, puffed jacket and knee-high, fur-lined boots. Despite the wardrobe change, she’s just as I remembered, with her salon-perfect, platinum-blonde hair and glowing, sun-kissed skin.

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