Page 34 of Run for the Money

The line crawls. As we inch closer to the desk, I hear snippets of complaints from the people crossing the lobby toward the elevators. We all seem to be victims of the lethal combination of an outdated computer system and a confused employee. My mood ticks lower and lower as the minutes drag by, and Nick doesn’t seem to be doing any better if the set of his jaw is any indication.

When we finally get to the front of the line, Nick is so tense I’m surprised the muscles in his throat can move enough for sound to come out. But he manages a gruff, “There should be two rooms—Nick Korbel and Melanie Archer.”

The receptionist, an exhausted woman in her early twenties, nods, and starts typing. “Got it. I’ve got a single room for Nick Korbel.And…”

She keeps typing, her brow pinching tighter and tighter.

“And one for Melanie Archer,” Nick repeats sharply.

The woman nods, glances at me, and winces. “Right. Melanie Archer. Archer is a last name. Okay. I am so, so sorry. We’ve been training a new kid on the system and he’s been making mistakes left and right. This one slipped by me, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re sorry, we get it. What exactly is the problem?” Nick asks with a glare that could wilt emerald-green grass.

I shoot him a look that I hope conveys, “Berating the hotel staff isn’t helpful.” He keeps glaring, so I don’t think he got the message.

The woman looks at me, rather than him, and swallows. “I’m sorry ma’am. The competition gives us these big spreadsheets with information, and it can be confusing, especially since the horses all have such random names. It’s the Archer part, he got confused…I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’ll just say it…the new employee listed you as a horse, not an athlete—as in, Nick Korbel and his horse, Melanie, a mounted archery team—so we cancelled the reservation. We don’t have a room booked for you.”

I suck in air through my nose in a vain attempt to avoid crying. It’s not this woman’s fault that the guy I like kissed me, then immediately changed his mind, or that I’ve just spent hours in his truck trying to think about literally anything else and failing miserably. She’s certainly not responsible for my parents’ failings. This woman is not the biggest issue in my life, but hearing that I’ve been mistaken for a horse is the final straw. No matter how much I blink, the burn of new tears in my eyes doesn’t dissipate, and I know Nick and the receptionist can both see, which is utterly humiliating.

“Then book a room for her now,” Nick says. “She needs a room. You are a hotel. Don’t punish her because your colleague is too stupid to know the difference between horses and human beings.”

She wilts a little further. “We’re booked solid. No rooms left. It’s a big event, sir, and there are—”

“Fix. It. Now.”

The receptionist freezes, fingers curled over the keyboard while Nick stares her down.

“The hotel made a mistake, so the hotel will fix the mistake. It’s that simple,” he says.

“Don’t,” I whisper. “It’s fine. This isn’t some damsel in distress—”

“It’s not fine, at all,” he says, loudly, his eyes snapping to me. “The next closest hotel is forty minutes away. You’re sleeping in this hotel tonight. End of story.” He turns back tothe receptionist and continues, “I don’t care how it happens—kick someone out, build a new room. Not my problem. We booked the room, she’s getting a room.”

The receptionist chews her lip, then tentatively taps at the keyboard. “Um, well. I can’t kick someone else out of their room…but…if I swap him, then comp something from the minibar….”

The commentary seems more for herself than us, so I don’t interrupt. I can tell Nick wants to, but he manages to keep his jaw clamped shut. Then she looks up sheepishly. Before she opens her mouth, I know it’s not going to be a happy resolution.

“I can upgrade your single room to a double—two beds, I promise—and get you a privacy screen, that way you both have somewhere to sleep. I’ll discount the room, too. I’m so sorry.”

On the one hand, no. No, no, no, no, no. That will absolutely not work. But on the other, sharing a room with Nick gives me more incentive to win. A privacy screen isn’t going to muffle the sound of me sobbing into my pillow if I don’t place. The only other choice I see is getting back in the truck and going home, which is infinitely worse. I can’t possibly do another nine-hour drive with Nick until I’ve had at least ten more hours of sleep, and ideally an opportunity to cry in the shower for thirty to forty minutes.

Nick meets my gaze, a pained look on his face. Strangely, that helps. If he’s suffering, it’ll be easier for me to focus on competing and not on how kissing him made my whole body feel like the molten center of a chocolate lava cake, but he doesn’t ever want to do it again.

"Works for me,” I say. “We’ll take it.”

The receptionist exhales in relief, taps her computer a few more times, then slides a paper envelope with two keys in it across the desk. Nick snatches the envelope and marches toward the elevators with both of our bags.

“Someone will be right up with the privacy screen,” the receptionist says meekly. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“I could not be having a worse day,” I say.

While true, I have no idea why I told this particular person, other than because she happens to be near me, and I need to say it before I’m trapped in yet another small space with Nick Korbel. Then I hurry across the lobby to catch up with him, because Nick’s got both keys and all our stuff. Tonight’s going to be awkward enough as it is; I don’t need to kick things off by getting locked out of my hotel room.

I gulp, my skin prickling.

Not my hotel room.Ourhotel room.

Chapter 10

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