Page 5 of The Proximity Effect

“Changes like learning how to cook an egg?” I muttered, pushing the rubbery mess around my plate.

This was not the resort I’d booked a year ago. That resort had a renowned chef, a menu that made my mouth water when reading it, and no heart-shaped furniture. What happened to this place?

I flagged down my server. “Excuse me, but has the restaurant always been... like this?”

He glanced around nervously before leaning in. “No, ma’am. Everything changed when the old owner passed away. His friends inherited the place and, well...” He straightened up, plastering on a smile as someone walked past. “Would you like more coffee?”

That explained some things. But it didn’t explain why I was paying luxury resort prices for food that would make a gas station convenience store blush.

“Yes, please.” At least the coffee was good.

Once I was done eating what I could manage to, I left a tip and headed into the lobby. I approached the front desk, where a man with the kind of stubble that looked effortlessly perfect was typing away at the computer. His name tag read “Evan” and when he looked up, I was struck by how many absurdly attractive men this resort employed.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” His smile was warm and genuine, a stark contrast to Archer’s controlled politeness from yesterday.

“Hi, yes, I’m in the honeymoon suite, and I have some... concerns.” I tried to channel my inner Karen, minus the haircut and attitude. “First, the minibar prices weren’t posted anywhere near the minibar, which led to a very expensive shock when I stress-ate last night.”

“You’re absolutely right. I’ll credit your room for the minibar mishap.” He grabbed a notepad and started writing. “Anything else?”

“The jets in the tub don’t work, which was disappointing after my adventure getting here yesterday.” I paused, biting my lip. Was I turning into a Karen? No… I paid good money for this resort based on what was presented on their website and reviews. “Also, who designed the room? Because I feel like I’m living in a Valentine’s Day card that exploded. That’s not what was pictured on the website when I booked… and it still isn’t pictured there.”

His pen stopped moving, and was that a blush creeping up his cheeks? “The décor isn’t to your taste?”

“If Cupid and a disco ball had a baby, it would be less sparkly than my room. I was expecting this….” I gestured vaguely upward at the lobby’s tasteful crown molding and upscale lodge look. “Not like someone raided every clearance bin at Walmart the day after February 14th and just... went for it.”

Evan cleared his throat but looked like he was fighting a smile. “We were going for... romantic.”

“You went right past romantic and landed somewhere between ‘Vegas chapel’ and ‘teenage girl’s first Pinterest board.’” I leaned in and lowered my voice, bracing my hands on the polished counter. “I was honestly surprised there wasn’t a mirror above the bed.” A memory of the one time I’d stayed in Las Vegas with my ex flashed through my mind, and I shuddered. “Though given the general aesthetic, it probably would’ve been heart-shaped and trimmed with LED lights that change color to music.”

Now he was definitely blushing. “I’ll add interior design to the list.”

“Oh, and is there any way to get cell service up here?” I was perfectly fine without my phone, but with the way things had been going, I’d probably need it when out and about.

“Only Mountain Mobile works up here, but we can set you up with an eSIM that’ll work with their network.”

“Perfect, I’ll?—”

“Ms. Callahan.”

I jumped at Archer’s voice behind me, nearly knocking over a display of resort brochures on the counter. He’d appeared like a corporate sorcerer, wearing an impeccably tailored suit that was at least a week’s salary.

The temperature in the lobby seemed to drop ten degrees as Archer and Evan exchanged looks that could only be described as Arctic.

“I wanted to inform you that we’ve retrieved your vehicle from the snow.” Archer’s tone was professional, but he sounded absolutely bored that this was his life. “And maintenance successfully recovered your... personal item from the tree.”

Evan’s eyebrows shot up. “Personal item?”

“It’s not—I mean, it was—” My face was burning with embarrassment. “Speaking of yesterday, you probably saw the mud stain on my pants when I fell, which wasn’t my finest moment, obviously, but in my defense, those ballet flats were basically ice skates, and gravity is really more of a suggestion when you’re sliding down a hill. And did you know that pants actually attract dirt? And that dirt might have appeared to look like I had an incontinence issue? Because I didn’t until yesterday, and now I have this piece of useless knowledge along with ruined clothes and the mental image of my underwear flying through the air like a lingerie flag. And oh my God, why am I still talking?”

Both men stared at me in stunned silence, and for one glorious moment, I wished I had the superpower to melt throughthe floor. Maybe I could start a new league—the Perpetually Embarrassed Avengers. PEA for short. Our nemesis would be small talk and social grace.

Evan recovered first, his lips turning up into a grin. “Your underwear did what now?” He leaned forward on his elbows, looking far too delighted by my verbal vomit, while Archer maintained the kind of carefully blank expression that suggested he was either plotting world domination or seriously reconsidering having come to work today.

“I’m going to go die of embarrassment in my disco ball room.” I backed away from the desk since melting into the ground wasn’t working. “Thanks for the help. I’m leaving now. Forever, probably.”

And with that, I practically ran to the elevators in a strategic retreat. Because that’s what it was, a strategic retreat, not me fleeing in mortification after announcing to both gorgeous men that the day before, my ass had looked like I’d had a major diaper blowout.

At least the elevator doors opened immediately, as if sensing my desperate need to disappear. Small mercies.

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