Page 53 of Drop the Mitts

Grace followed, and once they’d checked in, she stepped up to the counter. “Checking in, Grace Fairbanks.”

The attendant typed. Paused. Typed again. “How do you spell that?” She gave him the letters of her last name, but a moment later, he was frowning. "I’m not seeing anything."

“I booked last week.” Grace opened her phone and navigated to her email. She typed in the hotel name and frowned. She tried “reservation” and “Edmonton” but got nothing. No confirmation email. “Sorry, just taking a second.”

She swiped to her browser and searched through the open tabs. Maybe she’d saved the confirmation there? Forgot to have it emailed?

Spotting the Fantasyland Hotel logo, she tapped on the screen, relieved until she saw the words “Your session has timed out. Please refresh to begin a new reservation.”

Her cheeks heated. Had she seriously gone through every page and not clicked book?

“Ma’am?”

Grace exhaled. “I don’t think it went through.” She dropped her phone. “It’s fine. I’m happy to book whatever you have now.”

The attendant’s fingers flew over the keys. He winced as he looked at the screen. "Unfortunately . . . it looks like we’re completely full. There’s a hockey tournament, the Oilers game, and an oil and gas conference this weekend." He gave an apologetic smile.

Grace’s fingers stilled on the countertop. Full. Okay. That was fine. Maybe she could find another hotel close by.

Jenna was already pulling out her own phone. “There has to be something.”

Grace stepped back, arms crossing tight over her chest. The lobby bustled with families and players, suitcases and duffel bags dragging behind them.

Jenna’s face twisted, and she turned her screen toward Grace. “Closest thing I found is twenty minutes away. And it’s only three stars.”

“That’s fine,” Grace said quickly. “I’ve survived worse.”

“No,” Jenna said firmly, already shaking her head. “That’s not acceptable. You are not going to be the only one off-site in a crappy hotel. We’re supposed to be doing stuff together all weekend.”

Country stepped up, resting a hand lightly on Jenna’s back. “We’ve only got the king bed.”

“Okay.” Jenna started thinking aloud. “What about—Keltie and Sean? Do they have two queens?”

Country shook his head. “Even if they did, it’s Sean. Do you not remember the tent debacle?”

Jenna snorted. “I heard about it.” The wheels turned in her head, and Grace went down her own mental list. Tyler and Emma. Suraj and Rashi. Aelin and Ryan.Why the hell were there so many couples?

Jenna grabbed Country’s wrist. “What about Rhonda? Didn’t she say Anne wasn’t able to come?”

Country scrolled on his phone. “No, she ended up coming. They texted last night.”

“You guys, it’s really fine. I can leave early and get over here?—”

Jenna turned, her eyes glistening. “There’s got to be something. I just—you know it’s not going to be the same. You’ll have to leave early, you won’t be able to get drinks after the games. It just sucks, and—” Jenna froze, her eyes turning on André. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, waiting with her bag.

Grace’s pulse fluttered under her skin. “No.”

Jenna winced. “I mean . . . youcould.”

“I absolutely could not.”

“It’s just for two nights,” Jenna said softly, her tone switching to diplomatic now. “It’s not ideal, but . . . ”

Not idealwas an understatement.Not survivablewas closer. She’d barely gotten through the drive with him, and now Jenna wanted her to sleep in the same room? She couldn’t even look at him without wanting to throttle him. Or . . . something.

She turned to Jenna, but all her words died on her tongue.

“Okay.” Jenna’s lips were tight. “No, you’re right. I get it.” She blinked fast, the stress, the exhaustion, the sheer hope that this weekend would be exactly right when everything else was so wrong, all evident with the tears welling in her eyes.

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