“Again, sorry about that. She doesn’t know when to take a break,” Leo says, pushing a loose curl of hair behind his ear. There’s a black hair band around his left veined wrist. Is it to put his hair back? I think I’d combust right now if he did. On top of that, he’s wearing a thick black ring on his middle finger. Oh boy, don’t get me started on his large, powerful hands. If I ever get married, I’d ask my husband to wear a black wedding band. I find them so attractive. How much hotter could he get? I glance at his mustache again. Funny, now it doesn’t seem all that bad. Still not a fan, though.
I rest my elbows on the counter. His golden eyes suddenly capture mine, and I melt against the desk. I think he’s saying something because his lips are moving. I don’t respond because I’m still caught in his hypnotic stare. What does he see when he looks at me? Is my attraction to him obvious? Can he tell I’m struggling and ran out on my stagnant life today? How much did he hear from my conversation with Mom?
The ding of the elevator wakes me up, and I blink several times. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” My languid voice is almost unrecognizable. A group of people file out of the elevator and head to the hotel entrance.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We seemed to have both spaced out. I think I’m the one who needs a break. It’s been a long day.” He lets out a light laugh and focuses on the monitor. “Hmm. Right! I need your name to get things moving here.” The humor’s back in his voice.
“Olivia Hansen.” I glance at the gold badge on his shirt.Mr. Forrest, Manager. Leo Forrest. Manager? He seems young for that role—probably in his early thirties. Then again, I don’t know much about hotel management.
“Give me a sec to look you up.”
I pull a blue folder out of the side pocket of my suitcase as he types away on the computer.
“Ahh, here you are, Ms. Hansen.”
“Call me Olive, if you’d like.” The words tumble out, surprising me. Why would I say that? The banter between us is easy. Calling him Mr. Forrest doesn’t match the vibe between us.
He leans closer and lowers his voice. “It just so happens that I love olives.”
My mouth goes dry, and I can hardly swallow. A pleasurable sensation pulses through me, catching me by surprise. I don’t want it to stop. How can one man induce such a response? If I passed him while walking down the street, I’d probably stumble into a streetlamp and fall flat on my ass.
“Oh, do you? Lucky for me.” I nod slightly while trying to smirk with confidence. It works in movies, but I’m not Scarlett Johansson.
“Okay,Olive. As long as you call me Leo.”
“I’d like that.”
“Great. Now that we’ve settled that, it looks like you’ve reserved a suite with a waterfront view for one week, correct?”
Oh no, don’t do this to me.
“Suite?Um, no. I reserved a double room. Here’s the confirmation.” I retrieve a copy of the reservation from the folder. The information is on my phone, but I always carry a paper copy with me. I don’t trust technology, and right now, I want to avoid my phone like the plague.
He scans it quickly, then his forehead wrinkles. “We seem to have a problem. There are no double rooms available. I apologize for the inconvenience. This happened the other day too. Our website has been acting up and caused some issues with the reservation system. With the holidays here, there’s been a delay to get it fixed.” Now he speaks like a professional. “Never mind.”
It’s probably a widget or plug-in issue, but I won’t tell him that. I’m not here to work.
“Does that mean I don’t have a room?” My voice rises an octave, and disappointment spikes my body temperature. I’ve come this far, and I refuse to go back home. Other hotels are probably full too.
“Because it’s a problem on our end, we’ll give you the suite for the price of a double room. How does that sound?”
A suite! Am I dreaming?
My eyebrows shoot up, and an odd sense of excitement takes over. “Are you serious?”
“Sure am,” he says with a lopsided grin. “It’s no problem. Oh, I didn’t ask you if you’re part of the Moore party?”
“No…it’s only little ole me,” I mumble, focusing on the wall behind him. This is the first time I’ve traveled alone. Who checks into a hotel on New Year’s Eve and their thirtieth birthday by themselves? I guess people like me. Desperate and lost.
“Well, more space for you, right? You’re going to love the suite. With its beautiful view and recent renovations, you won’t want to leave.”
The real question is, do you come with the room?
“Well, thank you. Happy New Year to me!” And birthday.
“Not a bad way to end the year or start a new one. Depending how you look at it,” he says, focusing on the monitor again. “You did arrive a little early, so the suite isn’t quite ready yet. It shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes, though.”
“No problem. I can wait in the other room by the fire again. It’s warm and cozy in there.”