Page 3 of Love to Prove You Wrong

A man was crouched down on the floor at the reception desk, going through his suitcase.

“Here it is.” The crouching male got up and slapped his printed reservation on the counter.

When his eyes met mine, my breath got stuck in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, as if he wanted to zoom in on my face. Then his eyes grew wide, and a puff of air left his mouth.

“Fat… I mean, Addy?” he asked.

Oh. My. Word. Did he almost call me Fat Addy? It had been years since I’d heard that disgusting nickname. A nicknamehehad made viral in high school after watching that moviePitch Perfect.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Justin Miller. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it really isn’t.”

He cocked an eyebrow and paired his gaze with a smirk I wanted to slap off his face. “Is that how you talk to all of your guests?”

“Of course not, only the ones I don’t like. You’re the first one so far, if you must know.”

Then it dawned on me. He was staying here. For real. At my inn. I mean, he had a suitcase with him and a printed reservation. It was obvious what his plans were.

“Well, are you going to check me in or what?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “We’re all out of rooms. I’m sorry. There was a double reservation.”

Instead of leaving, he laughed. “I don’t think so. The confirmation for this reservation came through this morning.”

I snatched his reservation from the counter. “Kermit the Frog? Really? I see you haven’t changed one bit.”

“What? I love that guy. And I don’t want everyone to know I’m back. At least not yet anyway.”

A rush of panic coursed through me. He wasn’t going to stick around for long, was he?

“Back? What are you doing here, Justin? I thought you had moved. Forever.”

He grinned at me. “Asher’s wedding, of course. What person would let his best friend get married without his oldest friend there to witness the entire thing? Maybe get up to some mischief before he ties the knot?”

“The wedding’s not until next month,” I said.

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“You’re staying here for four weeks?”

“I am,” he said, handing me a platinum American Express card.

“Don’t you have to work? And can’t you stay with family?”

He leaned on the counter. “I’m in between projects. And yes, I could stay with family, but I don’t want to.” He scrunched his nose as if I had asked him if he wanted a complimentary platter of duck poop delivered to his room.

There was nothing I could do but check him in. If he wanted to stay here, I couldn’t exactly refuse to, unless I wanted to get entangled in a nasty lawsuit.

I handed him his credit card back, together with the keys to his room. “Your room is located on the third floor. Enjoy your stay.”

“Oh, I sure will,” he said with a smile before walking away.

I rolled my eyes again. He hadn’t changed one bit. Sure, he looked even hotter than he had back in high school, but what did looks matter if you were rotten inside?

“Was that Justin Miller, or do I need glasses?” Suzie, my best friend, whom I met two years ago, asked. She was standing right next to the front door, a big box of books in her arms.

“Let me help you with those,” I said, ignoring her question.

I took the box from her and put it in my office. Suzie ran the local bookstore and provided guests of the inn with books at great prices. The order forms flew out the door every week. The reviews we got on travel websites almost always mentioned the unique service, something I was extremely proud of. Granted, it was Suzie who had come up with the idea of “Books in Bed”, but the execution had been a team effort.

---