Page 16 of Frost and Felines

The garden room took Mallory's breath away as well. Glass panels stretched overhead, revealing the stormy sky above. Light snow drifted down, creating a magical scene as it collected on the transparent ceiling. Potted plants and climbing vines lined the walls, creating an indoor oasis despite the winter weather outside.

Kieran's phone buzzed suddenly, interrupting her admiration of the space. His expression darkened as he read the message.

"Trouble?" Mallory asked.

"Burst pipes in rooms 204 and 206. Charlotte says the guests are about to come to blows over repair priority." He slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Care to join me, Mrs. Striker?"

The title still felt foreign, but Mallory nodded. They made their way to the front desk where two men in business suits were red-faced and shouting.

"My presentation is in three hours!" The taller man jabbed his finger at the desk. "I need to prepare!"

"And I have a Zoom meeting in thirty minutes!" The other man's voice rose higher. "Do you know how important this client is?"

Kieran stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Gentlemen, I understand your frustration. We have two maintenance teams-"

"I don't care about teams! I was here first!"

Mallory watched as Kieran's jaw tightened, though his voice remained steady. She could practically feel his patience wearing thin. Before he could respond, she stepped forward.

"You both have important meetings." She kept her voice calm but firm. "The conference room on the first floor has excellent Wi-Fi and complete privacy. Why don't you both use that space while maintenance handles your rooms simultaneously?"

The men stopped arguing and just stared at her for a moment.

"The conference room has a better setup than your rooms anyway," she continued. "Dual monitors, proper lighting for video calls, and a coffee station."

The tension in the lobby deflated like a punctured balloon.

"That... actually sounds perfect for me," the taller man admitted.

"I'll have someone bring your materials down immediately," Kieran added, shooting Mallory an appreciative glance.

As the men walked away, chatting about sharing the space, an older woman approached. Her silver hair was elegantly styled, and she carried herself with quiet authority.

"Nicely handled," she said, extending her hand to Mallory. "I'm Charlotte Anderson, the inn's manager. You must be our new Mrs. Striker."

"Mallory," she replied, shaking Charlotte's hand. "And thank you."

Charlotte's eyes suddenly widened as she glanced out the lobby window. "Looks like we have more trouble - the Simmons are heading this way."

Mallory followed her gaze to see a well-dressed couple approaching through the snow. The woman wore high heels despite the weather, while the man's expensive coat flapped in the wind.

"Perfect timing," Kieran muttered, his hand finding the small of Mallory's back. "Ready to meet the competition, darling?"

Mallory’s muscles tightened slightly. "Do I really have a choice, dear?"

Mallory watched the Simmons approach them, the couple's matching plastic smiles making her skin crawl. Gregory's expensive wool coat shed snowflakes onto the floor while Vivian's perfectly coiffed hair remained unmoved despite the winter wind outside.

Kieran's arm wrapped around Mallory's waist, pulling her closer. The heat from his body seeped through her sweater, steadying her as Gregory's gaze swept over them both.

"Well, well," Gregory's voice dripped with false warmth. "This must be the mysterious Mrs. Striker we've heard about."

"Mallory." She extended her hand, keeping her face neutral as Gregory's grip lingered a moment too long.

"We simply had to come see for ourselves," Vivian said, her diamond bracelet shimmering in the light as she waved her hand. "After all, our dear Kieran has always been so... selective with his affections."

Kieran's fingers flexed against Mallory's hip. "When you know, you know." His voice carried a hint of a growl. "We met at the Rothschild Gallery downtown. Mallory was critiquing this awful modern piece-"

"It looked like a toddler's finger painting," Mallory added, remembering their earlier conversation.

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