A Second Chance

Alexis:

Boy, do I miss Anna this morning. She was a lackluster maid, and the obvious choice to let go when I had to downsize, but I still miss her half-ass efforts as I try to get all the rooms clean with only one other employee. At least Barb is a hard worker, but it’s a daunting task to clean eight rooms with the two of us trying to make it all happen between a.m. checkout and the p.m. check-in.

My cell phone rings, but I answer it as, “Sage Valley’s Best B&B,” since I forwarded the calls to my cell when I started cleaning.

“Hey, sis.”

I pause for a moment, ignoring the pile of takeout boxes perched precariously on the small table in front of me. My smile is genuine. “Jamie. Are you back yet?”

“Yep. Brewster and I arrived last night. Annie sure was a sight for sore eyes.”

I grin, imagining his petite wife, who is eight months pregnant with twins. She’d just begun to show when he last deployed. “Of course. How was your trip?”

“Okay. Brewster got a little anxious a time or two at the bus stops.”

“Poor pup. I’m glad you brought him with you. I like him better than you.” I giggle.

“All the women do, but that’s okay. Annie’s the only one I care about, and she likes me better than Brewster…barely,” he says with a feigned sigh. “I’m not calling just to socialize.”

“Good.” Taking a look around the disaster of a room, I don’t know how two guests staying two nights generated so much takeout between them. “I have work to do. Do you need something?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine got caught in a booking snafu. The hotel double-booked a room, and he got there second. Do you have a free room at the B&B?”

I pause, trying to remember the booking system’s calendar. I don’t remember which rooms are free, but I think there were blank spots for three of them. “Sure, but I don’t give discounts just because it’s a friend.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to. He’ll be in this afternoon. It’s—”

I shift just a bit to the right, and a cascading tower of Styrofoam boxes slide off the table and onto the floor. I groan as food spills out of them. No wonder there are so many. At least one of the guests must have disliked just about everything that came from the diner and kept ordering other food. What a waste.

“I’ll get the details when they check in. Sorry, Jamie, but I have to go.” I hang up the phone and tuck it in my pocket before trying to stop the foam mountain.

I’m not too successful and lose more time I don’t have trying to clean marinara sauce off the brown carpet. Thank goodness I didn’t go for the sophisticated white Layne suggested. She’s a professional designer, and I’m sure it would have looked great, but not with a long smear of marina sauce.

Someone would likely think there had been a murder in the room. The last thing my B&B needs is that kind of rumor. I’m already struggling to stay open. If the meager bookings I get dry up, I’ll be out my inheritance and the building, since I inherited it from the same aunt who left me the cash to turn it into a B&B. That would send Edna spinning in her grave and put me on the streets.

My folks would let me move back home, but I don’t want that. I like having my own space and freedom. I had lived with them until a few months ago because who can afford to move out these days?

My bachelor’s degree in paleontology turned out to be pretty useless around here, or anywhere, without furthering my education. I didn’t have the money for a master’s degree, so I came home in defeat and spent the last three years living with Mom and Dad while working various jobs in Sage Valley.

Edna’s gift is my best chance to make a real life for myself. I can’t blow it now. That knowledge is what helps me keep getting up each morning after five or six hours of sleep so I can work all day.

I almost hate it all sometimes, though having a B&B was once my aspiration. If it were more successful, and I weren’t so stressed, I’m sure I’d love living the dream. Right now, it’s just a massive headache, but I have too much invested in the concept to walk away.

I give myself the usual pep talk as I finish cleaning the takeout mess from room three. They were neat otherwise, so I can zoom through the rest of the cleaning. Changing the sheets takes the longest, and that’s because I picked crappy headboards, not realizing how difficult they would make it to tuck in the fitted sheets.

Once I finish with that room, I head to number five, since four and six remained un-booked last night. I see Barb heading into room seven, and I nod at her. This room isn’t too awful, and I meet Barb in the middle as we clean the shared bathroom between the rooms.

When we’re done, we both stretch for a minute.

“Do you need me to do anything else before I start washing the linens, Alexis?”

I shake my head and follow her to the closet where we keep the cleaning trolleys. There is a dumbwaiter system that we can use to transport them between floors, but since we’re down to just two maids now, counting me, we have enough carts to keep some on each floor of the B&B.

“You did rooms one, two, and three, right?” I’d sent her upstairs while I cleaned the suite on the main floor. It was the largest, catering to families, and typically took the longest to clean.

“Sure did.” She grimaces. “Other than the suite, they’re the most expensive rooms in this joint, so how come they seem to attract all the slobs? The guy in room two couldn’t walk three feet to dispose of his condom?” The older woman shakes her head in disapproval.

I know she’s around my mom’s age, but she looks a decade older. Her wrinkles have wrinkles, and I’m not sure if that’s because she’s been a maid all her life, or because she’s a chain-smoker when she isn’t at work. I hope it’s the latter, because if owning the B&B is going to age me like that, it might be another reason to regret having opened this albatross.

I feel guilty for the thought as I part from her and head downstairs to make sure the lobby is tidy. The B&B isn’t an albatross. It’s supposed to be a lifeline. It’s just dragging me down. Right now, it feels like an anchor on a sinking ship, not a dream.

I go into the kitchen and start baking chocolate chip cookies. They’re technically homemade, as advertised. I pay Layne’s sister, Cami, to make and freeze a dozen batches per week. All I have to do is thaw and bake them in the oven. They’re a big hit with customers, and she loves to bake. The last time I baked, the fire department came.

That sounds good if you picture the sexy firemen who pose shirtless while holding kittens. The guys and two women at the Sage Valley Volunteer Fire Department aren’t those kinds of firefighters.

Sure, they could pose with their shirts off, but it wouldn’t be any kind of fundraiser, because the copies wouldn’t sell. Even kittens can’t make most of them photogenic, with or without a shirt. No one wants to see fifty-four-year-old Burt from the fishing shop in only suspenders and Nomex pants, even with a fluffy cat or puppy.

The cookies smell wonderful, and I help myself to a couple as a late lunch. That’s another bad habit that I scold myself for even as I eat one cookie in two bites. Skipping meals and eating cookies instead is going to make my already curvy frame go way beyond lush to somewhere I don’t want to be. It’s just easy to grab the cookies instead of taking time to make or buy lunch.

With just the two of us working here, time for lunch is a luxury. I’m doing all kinds of tasks I didn’t expect to do on my own, including pressure-washing the parking lot and steaming the carpets in the lobby. I should have gone with the wood flooring Layne suggested, but I wanted the room to be homey and comforting when guests first walk in.

No, I should have gone with the tile they use in hospitals. It’s easy to clean, which is appreciated when you have a kid puking on the floor, which happens to me an hour or so later.

The family is early for check-in, but the room is ready, so I let them have their key without fuss. I wish I could think of a tactful way to suggest they give the kid a barf bag or bucket, but the eloquence of phrase to do so escapes me. I can only hope I don’t have a huge mess to clean up in room five when they depart after the Sage Valley Light Festival.

People start to arrive after that, and it gets busy fast. I look up at once point and see a gorgeous black man facing away from me. I can’t tell if his face is handsome, but his body sure is. He’s jacked like a bodybuilder, and even from this distance, I can see his butt is shapely in those tight jeans. I have a moment where I’d like to slip my hands into the back pockets and fondle that ass.

This is how pathetic I’ve become. I haven’t had a date since I started renovating Edna’s house. I haven’t had sex since months before that. I’m turning into a bitter husk of a woman, anxious to grope strangers to get an illicit thrill.

Yep, living the dream.

I have to look away from Mr. Hottie to do actual work again, and I don’t have time to look up and search for him until he’s next in line. I open my mouth to welcome him, but it just hangs open for a second as I absorb who the man is.

Jace Wilson.

My brother’s best friend.

My old crush.

The source of my deepest humiliation.

“What are you doing here?” I can’t help snapping the words in a cold tone.

He blinks, looking surprised. I guess I can’t blame him. He probably didn’t expect me to bite off his head after not speaking for a decade. I guess he thinks I’ve forgotten the prom incident. Or, even worse, he’s forgotten it. That idea makes me seethe.

Fat chance I’ve forgotten.

I cross my arms over my chest and give an exaggerated look at the line behind him, which isn’t really that long right now. “Well?”

“I need a room.”

I take great pleasure in not even looking at the computer when I say, “We’re sold out.” Yeah, I could use a warm body filling a room, but not his body—no matter how hot it is.

He tilts his head, and I notice his dark curls are shorn super close to his scalp. He’s still getting recruit haircuts though he must have a high enough rank not to go for the basic-training look these days. I can’t say it doesn’t suit him though. The short hair emphasizes the craggy lines and planes of his face.

He’s built like a rock, and his features are hewn like rock as well. He has a rough edge that I find appealing, even now. Dammit. I don’t want to find anything attractive about him. I sure don’t want to notice how warm his brown eyes are. Were they always that sparkly?

I know they were because I used to stare at them every chance I got. That was when I was pathetically and desperately in love with him. I’m definitely not that anymore.

Though I can’t deny the charge of being pathetic. The aforementioned dry spell that left me lusting after him hasn’t spontaneously resolved itself in the last ten minutes.

He’s frowning now. “Jamie called you. Said he took care of it, and you’re holding me a room.”

I almost curse but remember there’s a family behind Jace at the last moment. I manage a tight smile. “He didn’t mention the reservation was for you.”

His eyes narrow, and he appears confused. “Does that change the status of the reservation?”

Oh, I’m so tempted to tell him yes and invite him to get out, but common sense prevails. He’s bound to be in town for at least a few days, and that will help pay Barb’s salary, so I’m not forced to let go of my last maid. Plus, I did agree to put up Jamie’s friend. If only I’d given Jamie the chance to identify him.

I can’t change that now, so I struggle to find a polite tone. “Of course not. I didn’t get a chance to learn the guest’s name.” I take him through the check-in process and swipe his black Amex. Swanky for an airman, but I think he’s a pilot. He got his degree from the Air Force Academy and another online university so he could enter the commissioned officer program to become a pilot. I’m pretty sure that’s what Jamie said once when I was definitely not listening way too closely for information about Jace.

I return the credit card and give him a keycard. I don’t take one of the cookies from beside me under the desk to hand to him. He doesn’t deserve a cookie. “Room five is on the second floor. It shares a bathroom with room seven.”

I have an un-booked small room on the main floor with its own bathroom that I could give him, but I don’t. Petty revenge is still revenge.

He takes the keycard and nods to me before hefting his duffel bag. As he walks away, I spend a moment appreciating the view. He’s a jackass, but he has a nice ass. That hasn’t changed. If anything, the view has only gotten better since he’s honed his body and fully grown into the frame he had the last time I saw him before he caught a bus to basic training.

“Hey, can you check us in?” asks the man who’d been behind Jace. He’s holding a toddler. His wife has a pair of twins in a stroller, and they can’t be more than a few weeks old. I can see why he’s impatient to get settled, so I try not to let his cranky tone bother me. I get him checked in, and then the next guests arrive.

It takes another hour to get all the arrivals logged and settled in. I don’t think about Jace at all during that time.

Well, maybe just a little.

A couple of times.

That’s it, I swear.

I definitely don’t remember how he used to tease me when I tagged along with him and Jamie, or how he pushed my buttons and made me angry all the time. I absolutely forbid myself from recalling how that anger turned to something different and uncomfortable during my teen years, when I couldn’t be around him without turning into a tongue-tied weirdo.

Most of all, I don’t let myself remember the humiliation of the prom incident. I’m definitely not letting that memory intrude. I don’t let myself recall the way it felt to try to catch his eye, only to realize he was wrapped up in (and tangled around) his date for the evening, and he wasn’t going to keep his promise.

I’m sure not reliving the humiliating, painful moment when I realized he still saw me as a kid and would always see me that way. That I wasn’t interesting or mature enough to hold his attention even for a three-minute song, and that he was letting me down because he’d forgotten about me.

Yeah, those memories are strictly off-limits.

Jace:

It’s easy enough to find my room, and I admire the pretty surroundings as I walk up the stairs to the second floor. It’s obvious Alexis must’ve spent a good amount of money to renovate this place and turn it into a B&B. I can remember when it was still Edna’s place, and it had been in disrepair. Edna must have left Alexis enough money to do the renovations, so I wonder why she let the house get in such a state. Perhaps she had dementia or something.

The thought leaves me as I drop my duffel bag on the bed and go back to close the door. It automatically locks behind me, and I set the electronic keycard on the table arranged nearby.

I look around the room, and it’s a little fussy for my tastes. There’s furniture that I think is called Queen Anne? It’s all delicate and feminine. I’m almost afraid to sit down on the velvet-upholstered chair and use the table with its similarly spindly legs.

I do so gingerly, holding my breath, and I’m almost surprised the chair doesn’t squeak or crack underneath my large frame. It must be sturdier than it looks, because it seems like a ninety-pound elderly woman could break it just by perching on the edge.

I stare for a moment, contemplating if I should unpack the things in my duffel bag into the ornate dresser across the room. I’m only going to be here a few days, so it almost seems like more trouble than it’s worth. Especially in this room, where I don’t feel at all comfortable.

I briefly wonder if Alexis gave me this room to make me feel out of my element. I can’t imagine why she would, but she sure didn’t seem happy to see me. Thinking back, I recall the last time I saw her. That had to have been about six years ago, when Jamie and I were in the same city where she went to college. Annie had been along, meeting us there, so it had seemed natural to make it a foursome.

We’d met up with her for a drink over the summer holiday, before she came back to Sage Valley for the rest of the season. She’d been warm with Annie and Jamie, but he was her brother. I squint as I realize she had been standoffish with me then as well.

I can’t figure out why. As far as I know, Alexis has no beef with me. I’m her brother’s friend more than hers, so I was never that close to her, but I can’t recall any reason why she’s so cold. Why does she seem angry that I’m her reservation?

“And why didn’t I get a cookie?” I ask that question aloud while looking at the ornate mirror hanging on the wall opposite me. Does she think I didn’t notice the other guests got those parchment bags that smelled like fresh-baked chocolate cookies? Maybe it was an oversight, but I can’t help feeling it was deliberate.

I tap my fingers on the table, wincing when it wobbles, and immediately stop. I’m still contemplating why Alexis might be angry with me when my phone chimes to indicate I have a text. Jamie is sending me a message, inviting me to meet him, Lisbeth, and Ryder at the bar.

I text back my affirmative reply and get to my feet. I leave the duffel bag on the bed for now and scoop up the keycard on my way out the door. I pause to make sure it shuts behind me before heading back down the curved stairway. The place really is elegant, and I suppose it justifies the price per night I’m paying, but I can’t help noticing there don’t seem to be as many guests as there are rooms.

I also can’t help noticing Alexis looks tired as I walk past her to head to the exit. She’s occupied with the guests, so I don’t get a chance to stop and talk to her, or to ask how she’s doing, but her unwelcoming look in my direction makes me reluctant to do so even if she weren’t busy.

I’m still puzzling it over as I get in the car I rented when my plane landed at the airport. It’s a midsize SUV and much more comfortable than the fiddly room I’m staying in. This vehicle suits me and is similar to the rig I have at home.

I drive down Main Street, wincing at the kitsch. Sage Valley has gone all out with the typical decorations, and for preparing for the Light Festival, which is a big deal here. It draws tourists from around the area, along with several nearby states. Downtown is like a promotional video for one of those nauseatingly wholesome holiday movies.

It all sets my teeth on edge, but I try to ignore the churning in my gut. I’m not a holiday person. I don’t think I ever have been, especially not as an adult. My happiest holiday memory is of my parents’ divorce being finalized on December Twenty-Third when I was twenty-two.

I hadn’t even been home to enjoy the final peace that must’ve settled in the town—or at least on Elm Street, where we had lived all my life in Sage Valley—after they split, but I’d been thrilled at the dissolution. After seeing them spend years making each other miserable, it had been cause for celebration that they were finally giving up and trying to move on. That was the best Christmas present I ever received.

I grimace. Too bad they both moved on with partners closer to my age than each other. Mom’s boyfriend, who she lives with in the Caribbean, is a bartender at a local resort. He’s a nice enough guy, but is only three years older than me, which is awkward at best. My mother is a cougar. Yikes.

The last girlfriend my father had was actually younger than me, and when Dad was in the shower, she tried to get me into bed. She’d claimed to be intrigued by the idea I’m half-black and wanted to know if the clichés are true. Dad couldn’t satisfy her curiosity, being white, as she’d so blatantly told me. That was super awkward as well, and I’d ended up cutting short my visit. Both my parents have invited me to come spend the holidays with them this year, but I have no interest in doing so.

My plan was to ignore the whole holiday as usual, but then Lisbeth emailed me to remind me of our tentative plans to meet up ten years after we went our separate ways following high school. With nothing better to do, here I am, and I turn off the main street to take the side road that leads to the bar. I didn’t bother to ask which one, because there are only a couple of bars in Sage Valley, and I’m sure my friends picked the nice one.

It isn’t exactly a nice bar, but it’s not bad for bar standards. It’s certainly better than the dive bar across town favored by the cheaper drunks. That place has a surly, forlorn air exacerbated by the stench of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol. Unless things have changed, and the old owner, Ernie, has improved it. I doubt that, based on past acquaintance with the man.

This place isn’t a whole lot better when I step inside, but the ambience is nicer, and it doesn’t have quite as many foul odors. As an added bonus, I don’t have not-so-fond memories of coming into this place multiple times when I was way too young to drink to retrieve my dad after yet another knock-down, drag-out fight with my mother.

I immediately see Jamie at a table, and I walk toward him. Lisbeth and Ryder are already there, and I’m not surprised to see how close they’re sitting together. They might not even realize it themselves, but it’s like there is a magnet drawing them toward each other. It’s always been like that though, and I won’t be at all surprised to find out they finally hook up now that they’re reunited.

I sit down on the only chair left at the table, leaning my chest against the back, which is facing the table. That allows me to stretch out my legs a little, though I’m careful not to bump into Brewster. “Where’s Annie?”

“Sleeping. As you can imagine, watching us drink didn’t appeal to her.” Jamie looks a little anxious, a little worried, and mostly proud. I can tell he’s excited to be a dad, which doesn’t surprise me. He’s practically a father to Brewster.

The dog sits calmly at Jamie’s side with his head resting on Jamie’s thigh. I’ve met Brewster before, since Jamie and I usually get together once or twice a year. He’s my best friend and one of the few people I make a priority.

Jamie, not Brewster.

Not that Lisbeth and Ryder aren’t priorities as well, but Jamie’s always been like a brother to me. Lisbeth and Ryder were always closer to each other, so Jamie and I had drifted into a closer friendship.

I reach out and stroke Brewster’s head. “How are you doing, buddy?”

The dog gives me a feeble tail wag without lifting his head. He’s the loyal sort, and I figure he must be comfortable like that, or he needs the contact with Jamie.

A pretty barmaid comes over, and she’s wearing a low-cut shirt. She seems determined to show me everything she has to offer as she leans forward and gives me a slow smile. “What can I get you to drink, sugar?”

“Mineral water and cranberry juice on the rocks.” I occasionally drink, but it’s rare after seeing my dad in his sorry drunken state too many times over the years. At least he was never a mean drunk. Just pathetic and maudlin.

She nods and writes it down, giving me a wink as she sashays away.

“You could unwrap that present any time you want,” says Jamie with a chuckle.

I shrug a shoulder. “I expect so.” She’s pretty enough, but she’s not really my type. I go for petite, curvier blondes with big blue eyes.

There’s a jolt my groin as I abruptly see Alexis in my mind. Holy crap, she’s definitely become my type. Either I didn’t notice before, or I tried not to let myself notice, since she’s my best friend’s sister. Alexis has grown into her curves, and I know for a fact that silvery blonde hair of hers is natural, because she’s had that tint all her life.

I shift in the seat, embarrassed I’m getting hard thinking about my best buddy’s sister while he sits right beside me. That feels all kinds of wrong, and I struggle to distract myself.

Instead of doing so, I somehow introduce her as the topic of conversation when I ask Jamie, “Is there any reason why your sister doesn’t like me?”

He frowns as he takes a sip from his longneck bottle. “What’d you mean?”

I shrug. “She didn’t seem too thrilled to see me. I have a feeling if you’d told her the reservation was for me, she would’ve claimed she was fully booked. For a moment, I thought she was going to tell me to get my ass out of her inn.”

Jamie’s frown deepens. “She’s never said anything to me. I can’t think of any reason why.”

Lisbeth scoffs then. “How about the fact you made her miserable as a kid? Neither one of you wanted her tagging along and following us around, so you were both pretty mean to her.”

I open my mouth to deny the allegation, but then I shift again, overcome by discomfort. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Thinking back, I was kind of a shit to Alexis. Jamie was too, but he was her older brother. I must’ve claimed proxy privilege to mistreat her. I can see why she might not like me.

“That doesn’t make much sense though, because she seemed to like you just fine as we got older,” says Ryder.

“Yeah, just fine,” says Lisbeth with a mysterious smile.

I think back to the past, recalling that Alexis and I eventually reached a truce of some sort. I put up with her, and she appeared to put up with me. I certainly hadn’t been pushing her buttons the last two years I’d known her.

To be honest, I hadn’t noticed much about her either way. Just that she’d stopped being an annoying little kid, but when she was with us, I can’t say I paid much attention either way. I still can’t think of any reason why she would actively dislike me.

“Maybe it’s just your naturally charming personality,” says Jamie with a chuckle as he nudges me with his elbow.

“I can be fucking charming if I want.” I grunt at him. “Remember those twins on our leave in Singapore? They both chose to leave with me instead of one going with you.” That was before he and Annie got back together after she finished college.

Jamie laughs again after a moment. “Are you talking about the same ones who drugged you and stole your wallet?”

I grimace, having forgotten about that part in my haste to put him in his place. “That might be, but they gave me an unforgettable night before.”

“It’s hard to forget being drugged and robbed,” agrees Jamie, deadpan.

Lisbeth snickers, and so does Ryder, and I take their contributions stoically. Let them have their laughs. If it were any of them, I’d probably react the same way. The twins had rocked my world, though it hadn’t quite been worth waking up with a hangover from whatever they’d slipped me, along with a few hundred dollars lighter from being robbed.

“Maybe you should just try being a nice human being,” says Lisbeth.

Ryder arches a brow and looks at me in a considering fashion. “Yeah, that might work. You could pretend like you have manners and stuff.”

“And for goodness sake, don’t remind Alexis how much you hate Christmas. That’s anathema around here, and she’s just as gung-ho for the holidays as the rest of Sage Valley’s residents.” Jamie offers me that advice as the waitress returns.

She places my drink in front of me with exquisite attention to detail, ensuring she flashes her cleavage my way the entire time. I avoid her gaze, not at all tempted. For some reason, Alexis pops into my thoughts again, and I try to pretend like my pants aren’t suddenly too tight.

I can’t actually be attracted to Jamie’s little sister, can I? Nah, it has to be tangled up with some kind of response from the way she’s disdainful of me. The alpha in me has to be responding to the challenge of getting her to like me, and I’ve got it twisted up as attraction instead of a challenge in my brain.

It’s a damn good theory, and I’m still clinging to it when I return to the B&B a couple of hours later. I’m certainly not drunk, but I still stumble when I climb the stairs. They aren’t any different in height than the norm, so I can see why she glares at me as I come crashing into the lobby. I have no explanation for the clumsiness, aside from being distracted by her. I’m not even going to let myself think about that.

I steady myself, and my normal gait returns as I walk closer to her. She’s seated behind the reception area with a large book, but I quickly realize she isn’t reading it. It must be her guestbook. I can tell she’s not reading it, because I can see an app open on her phone, and I catch enough of the words, even reading upside down, to realize she’s perusing one of those smutty romances she and Lisbeth like.

I’m suddenly overcome with curiosity about the state of her panties, wondering if she’s turned on by what she’s reading in the scene with one woman and two men. The urge to find out for myself nearly overwhelms me, and I bunch my hands into fists as I stand in front of her. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

She looks up at me as she’s tucking away her phone. There’s an expression of shock and something else I can’t read. “Really?” She says that breathlessly.

I nod. “Lisbeth reminded me that I was kind of an asshole to you when we were younger. I want to apologize for that.”

Her gaze dims, and her expression turns cool again. “Don’t even worry about it. We were kids, and that’s in the past.” The words are appropriate, but there’s a coldness to them that suggests she’s only saying them because it’s expected.

I lean in a little closer. “Seriously, I really am sorry about all that. I was just a kid, but I was a jerk.”

She looks over my shoulder, and I think she’s avoiding my gaze. Then I realize there’s a group arriving, and I have to step aside. I don’t get a response from her for my second apology, but I observe her as she checks in the late arrivals. She looks exhausted, and there are bruises under her eyes. She seems wan. Is she working herself into a stupor, or is she ill? I want to ask her, but I don’t have the chance.

One thing I can do to help is grab the luggage when she mentions she’ll have it brought to the room. I stay around long enough to hear the room number before scooping up the bags and carrying them up with me. If she has any objection to my help, or even notices, she doesn’t say anything.

I linger outside the designated room, quickly realizing these folks will be sharing the bathroom with me. When the group tromps up the stairs, the older man opens the door, and he steps back to allow me to enter with the luggage. I place it on the floor near the closet and start to leave.

“Hang on, fella.” He reaches into his pocket.

I shake my head and lift a hand in rejection. “No need. I don’t actually work here. I’m just giving Alexis a hand.”

“Is that the pretty girl behind the desk?” asks the younger man in the party. He’s only a few years younger than Alexis.

My hackles rise, and I hesitate to identify what I’m feeling as I observe a hint of interest in his expression. “Yeah, Alexis and I go way back.” I can’t help a hint of warning in my tone.

It must be enough warning to deter the young man, because his eyes widened, and he takes a step away from me. I don’t wait for anything else to slip out of their room and walk down the hall to my own.

I enter my room, still worried about Alexis. It’s a strange feeling. I haven’t gotten close enough to a woman in years to really be concerned about her well-being. I don’t even really know Alexis anymore, but it’s certainly more than just friendly concern on my part. I’m worried about her, and I’m attracted to her.

Since we didn’t finish our conversation, I decide to leave my room and return to the lobby. I hope to find her behind the reception desk, and I do. She’s still perched on what looks like a comfortable chair with her phone out again. I wonder if she spends a good portion of her time there, and then I wonder why she doesn’t have someone else hired for the position.

She looks displeased to see me as I approach, but I ignore that while leaning against the desk. “I took up the luggage for those people, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

Her expression thaws marginally. “Thank you for the help. I wasn’t looking forward to schlepping those bags upstairs.”

I shrug a shoulder. “It was nothing.” It really was no big deal. I’m used to benching far more than that, and a guy my size has little trouble handling a few bags. Heck, I could pick up Alexis and carry her with one arm up the stairs.

That thought inevitably leads to me carrying her into my room and lying her on my bed. I shut down that line of thought before it proceeds. I can’t be thinking about her this way.

“What happened your reservation at the hotel?”

Her words bring me back to the present. “They claimed it was an accidental double booking. I wonder if they were just hedging their bets this time of year in case someone canceled.”

She nods. “I’ve run across some shady tips since I opened the B&B. There are trade groups and forums online. You’d be surprised… Well, maybe you wouldn’t be surprised at all the underhanded tactics people employ.” She sighs and looks around. “I might need to implement a few myself. I really hope the Light Festival gives this place a much-needed infusion of cash.”

I’m almost surprises she’s being so candid with me, but I can see the exhaustion in her expression. Maybe she just needs to unload to someone semi-familiar.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here, because it might be the last opportunity you have.” She runs a hand through her hair, disheveling the wavy blonde locks from the ponytail trying to confine them.

Her hair is so fine and frizzy that it resists taming. I clench my hands into fists to avoid the temptation to reach out and touch it for myself. Dammit, I have to stop thinking this way about Alexis. “This place is beautiful. I don’t see how it can fail.”

A ghost of a smile passes her lips. “I once thought the same.” She looks melancholy before she blinks, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Did you come back for the reunion, or is there another reason you’re in Sage Valley?”

I ponder her question for a minute. “Yeah, it was mostly because Lisbeth reminded me we had an informal agreement to meet up in ten years. I didn’t have any other plans, so I thought, why not?”

She frowns. “What about your parents? Why not spend Christmas with one of them?”

“Things get awkward. Spending time with them when they were married wasn’t all that great, but it’s even worse now in some ways. Mom’s deliriously happy with a guy just a few years older than me, and Dad’s turned into a bitter divorcé full of regrets.”

“Fun,” she says with a sympathetic grimace.

“When he’s not dating someone young enough to be my sister, he’s angry that Mom has moved on. There’s never been a truly happy holiday pre- or post-divorce, and I couldn’t give two shits about Christmas anyway.” I wince as I say the words, recalling Jamie’s advice not to share my disdain of the holiday.

Her eyes narrow, and she clearly doesn’t like my words. “The Sage Valley economy relies heavily on Christmas tourism,” she says tartly. “So does my business. It’s unfortunate you don’t enjoy the holiday.”

I shrug. “I never really had much reason to.” I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m simply stating facts.

My parents usually went through the motions of putting up a Christmas tree and giving me and my sister gifts before she drowned when I was thirteen, but they were just as likely to be fighting on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day as they were any other time of the year, and most holidays ended with indigestion and disappointment. I can’t even claim they were happier before Karen’s death, because they argued just as much then too. They just got meaner with each other after her passing.

I saw no redeeming facets back then, and I still don’t to this day. Christmas is just an inconvenient and expensive time of year, and it’s also commercial. What’s the point? Of course, I don’t share those thoughts with Alexis. She already has a bad enough opinion of me.

“Christmas can be really wonderful.” She seems to be trying to convince me, and though her earnestness is cute, it doesn’t sway me.

“I have about as much use for Christmas as I do for marriage,” I say with a bitter twist of my lips. So much for not offending her.

I can sense her withdraw, and her gaze darkens as she looks away from me, reaching for her phone again. “If you need anything, you can dial zero on your phone, and it connects to the front desk, or it’s routed to my cell, so you won’t have to wait long for a response. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

Her tone is impersonal, and she’s clearly dismissing me.

I could fight it, but why bother? I’ve already put my foot in it enough tonight, and I’m sure I haven’t done anything to improve her opinion or outlook toward me. If possible, I’ve made things worse.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much, as I usually don’t care if someone has a negative opinion of me, but it doesn’t sit well with me. I think about it for the rest of the evening, and about Alexis, before finally turning in for the night. I expect to have trouble sleeping, since I often do, but the comfortable bed overwhelms me, and I slip into a dreamless slumber, finally able to stop thinking about Alexis.