Page 7 of The Seascape Between Us

A part of me wanted to defend myself and the hotel, explain that we did more business on the weekends than during the week in the off-season, and show him reservations for the summer months. Starting in July, we were almost booked solid. But I refused to let myself feel like a child called on the carpet before a disapproving parent.

Instead, I sighed. “What do you want, Grey?”

“I just told you. I’m a paying guest, and I want to stay at your lovely… well, your hotel.”

Surehe did. I rolled my eyes. I liked my hotel and worked hard to offer a cozy and eclectic vibe—at least, that’s what I told myself. However, I was sure the Seascape, even during its heyday, couldn’t meet the five-star service Grey was used to in other hotels. “Seriously, why are you here?”

“Iamserious. I’m here as a guest. You claimed this place was important to the community, a sentiment I’ve heard expressed by others. So, I’m here for the wholeSeascape experience. I have to be honest with you. So far, I’m not impressed.”

“Fine,” I ground out, giving up on the illusion of neutral passivity. “The second-floor suite isn’t available, but there is a suite on the first floor if that suits you,sir.”

“I’d rather be on the second floor. Better views. I guess any room on the second floor.” He waved his hand dismissively. He’d made his decree, and I was to make it so.

I gritted my teeth while I registered him to room 208, where my less than impressed guests had vacated earlier this morning. The room would be freshly cleaned, and the roof wasn’t in too bad of shape overhead. Once I’d registered him, I handed him his key card.

His brows lifted. “No more keys. I’m impressed. You’re practically modern.”

Personally, I preferred the keys, but the cards had their advantages.

“Room 208. The stairs are just past those doors.” I pointed to the set of double glass doors past the dining room entrance.

“You’re not going to show me to my room?” he asked, with a little more of that fake outrage.

“You know the way,” I ground out. The man was determined to press every button I had.

“I’m a paying customer. Is this how you treat all your paying customers? If you do, I think we might have landed on why you’re having such a tough time retaining guests.”

I swallowed down the curse climbing up the back of my throat and came out from behind the desk, flashing Grey a tight, insincere smile. “This way,sir.”

Rather than follow me to the door, Grey stayed rooted to the floor next to the desk.

I stopped walking and faced him. “What now?”

Wordlessly, he glanced at the suitcase next to him and then back at me.

“You havegotto be kidding me.”

He grinned, but without the edge from earlier, softening his expression. Something fluttered in my chest, but I ignored it. It was probably just nerves from having to deal with Grey, anyway.

I rolled my eyes again—I’d rolled my eyes so many times in the last half hour I was surprised they weren’t stuck facing the back of my head—and grabbed his suitcase’s extended plastic handle. I dragged it behind me on its wheels over the tile floor to the stairs while Grey followed blessedly quietly for once.

I lifted the suitcase and carried it up the set of stairs. The weight pulled on my arm. What the hell did hehavein there? Bricks? Honestly, the possibility wouldn’t have surprised me if it was just another way for him to get under my skin.

Once outside his room, I turned and waited for him to open the door with his card, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked over the iron rail at the dark waves of the ocean. The sky was dull and overcast, and the wind sweeping in off the water, sharp and cool. Aside from a faint frown pinching his brows, his expression was open, thoughtful, and for just a moment, he looked so much like the young man I’d fallen for all those years ago, my breath caught. I would have given anything to know what he was thinking.

Probably dreaming up new ways to make you miserable.

I shook my head and leaned toward Grey, plucked the keycard from his grip, and opened the door. Pulling Grey’s suitcase with me, I entered first and stood it next to the dresser opposite the queen bed. I gave the room a quick scan. It looked spotless. At least that was something, anyway.

“Your room, Mr. Mackenzie,” I said, setting down the keycard on the dresser. “I hope you enjoy your stay.” I would have mademy escape then, except Grey was standing in the opening, hands gripping the door frame as if he were afraid to let himself enter, his horrified gaze sweeping the room from one side to the other.

Finally, he turned his disgusted gaze to me. “Is that the same bed from when I was here before?”

While Grey had neverstayedat the hotel, I used to take the keys to the vacant room so we could fuck undisturbed.

“The frame is the same, but the mattress is new.” Well, newish. I’d replaced all the mattresses with the money Oliver Mackenzie had invested.

Grey finally left the doorway, moving past me to stand in the center of the room, turning slowly and taking it all in. “I feel like I’m staying in a thrift store.” He finally faced me. “You have to know you’re never going to save this place.” I bristled, ready to argue, but Grey pushed on. “At least if we sell, whoever buys might keep your staff or package them off. You won’t be able to do either once you’re bankrupt.”

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