Page 8 of Wrong Idea

Files and a dual monitor setup cluttered the small desk the room provided with about a million empty mugs sitting next to it. I could picture a man sitting there, working long hours while drinking endless coffee.

I wondered how long it had been since Bertie or Dalia had been in there to take care of the room. I walked into the bedroom, and that first breath I took made me stop in my tracks. The scent was oddly familiar. It smelled expensive and manly.Manly?The word made me think of the masseuse.

Car.I smirked, wondering if I should try to walk around the spa area to see if he was around. I usually went there anyhow to make the coffee before the end of my shift. I snorted at myself. I was being silly. One little massage, and I was smitten like a kitten with some guy who barely said ten words to me. I was a little ridiculous. I changed the bedding and moved into the bathroom. I had just finished cleaning the shower when I heard the door open.

“Shit,” I swore under my breath. “Sorry, sir, I will be out of here before you know it,” I called out and got a grunt in response.

I hurried out of the bathroom, the towels blocking my face, and shoved them into the cart. “Thank you,” his deep voice sounded, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. I simply rushed to push the cart to the door and got out of there as quickly as possible.

two

carver

Jesus Christ.It was her.

Max.

My girl.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. I fucking tried, but it was impossible. I blinked, staring at the door and hurried towards it. Opening it just in time to watch her slip out of the building.

I hadn’t imagined her.

It was her.

She had been in my room. Fuck, did that mean she worked here? For me? The one rule I had set from my first day on the job. I couldn’t touch her. Not if I signed her paycheck. Housekeeping. Was she in housekeeping? Without thinking, I picked up the phone and called the manager.

“The Crown Ski Resort and Lodge, how can I help you?”

“Stan, this is Carver,” I rumbled a little too sharply. I needed to watch that. Stan Ledesky was a good guy. Great employee.

“Yes, Mr. Storm, how can I help you this evening?”

“Housekeeping was in my room,” I rumbled and heard him sigh.

“I know you didn’t want anyone in there, sir, but?—“

“What was her name?” I asked. Subtlety wasn’t a strength of mine.

“What? Why? What did Max do?”

“Max?” I repeated. Fucking hell, it was her. Shit, she was at the resort at this very moment. A smile grew on my face as something warm and fuzzy spread through my chest.

“Sir? Mr. Carver? Are you still there? Look, I’m not sure what she did, but to be fair, she usually isn’t in housekeeping. If she missed something?—“

“No!” I exclaimed. “Nothing like that. She did an incredible job,” I quickly complimented.

“Oh.” I could hear the relief in the old guy’s voice. “So, there was no problem?”

“Not one bit. She did a bang-up job in here. Is there any chance…” I hesitated. I was taking a big risk. I’d given her a massage the day before, pretending I worked at the spa instead of being the one who owned the whole place.

“Mr. Carver?”

“Could you get her to clean my office tomorrow?” I asked without another thought. I was playing with fire, bringing her into my space.

“Of course, sir. She will be here before she starts her shift in laundry.”

“Laundry?” I repeated, feeling my brows bunch together.What the hell is my girl doing in laundry?

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