Page 18 of Breakfast Included

Minutes later, they sat down on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, for a simple meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, with orange juice and coffee.

Tate nudged Reno’s knee. “This is nice.”

Reno nodded, smiling as he chewed, and then he copied what Tate had done and bumped their knees together.

“Let’s take a walk along the river path after,” Reno said.

“I’d like that.”

But when they were finished and ready to go, the snow was coming down too hard. The trail had disappeared under a fresh blanket of the white stuff, and visibility was limited. Instead, Reno suggested they stay in and play card games in front of the fire while drinking hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. More time with Reno all to himself? Like there was any other option.

Reno hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he sucked at poker. The man wore every emotion that passed through him on his face, and Tate won all of Reno’s chips—which were peanuts in lieu of the real thing because they didn’t have game chips in the cabin. Turned out Reno was quite the shark at rummy, of all things. But none of that mattered to Tate. Just being with Reno made the day perfect.

The snow finally started to ease by early afternoon, and after staff had cleared the pathway again, they walked hand in hand back to the hotel for lunch. There was another snowball fight going on in full swing when they arrived, but this time, they decided to watch it safely from inside. Reno wasn’t interested in walking around in soaked jeans again.

“Let’s see what they have going on today,” Reno said as they wandered into the lobby.

“There’s a mixer in the Essex Room tonight.” Tate pointed at the easel decorated with red ribbons on the top corners that management had set up. “Want to go?”

“Yes.” Reno nodded and then tilted his head in thought. “I wonder . . . Let’s go find the manager. I would love to play the piano tonight if they have one and will let me.”

Tate reached for Reno’s hand and laced their fingers together. “He will.”

They found Bryan, still looking as though he could use a month off but not quite as frazzled as the first night. After he’d agreed to let Reno play, Reno dragged Tate along to the hotel’s sportswear shop. “I need something to new to wear other than this three-day-old shirt for tonight.”

Reno picked out a long-sleeved shirt with a tab collar that was pale pink in color and made the blue of his eyes pop. Not many men could pull off a pink shirt, but it looked amazing on Reno. It would look even better on the floor of Tate’s cabin bedroom, while they were naked in bed together . . .

“Stop it,” Reno said, but there was amusement in his voice.

“Stop what?”

Reno shook his head. “You’re looking at me like you want to eat me.”

Tate’s mouth watered.Oh yes, but I do want to. So much.

Reno bumped his shoulder and took his new find to the cashier, while Tate discretely adjusted himself behind a rack of clothing.

Tonight. . .

* * *

The snow had easedup by the time they were dressed and ready to head back to the hotel. A good sign for getting the road open again, but the thought soured Tate’s mood. He wanted to stay in this peaceful winter wonderland with Reno, unfettered by the demands of daily life.

“What’s up?” Reno asked as he pulled the glass doors to the main lobby open.

Tate smiled and pushed away any thoughts that weren’t focused on the here and now with Reno. “Who would have ever guessed I’d be spending Christmas Eve with Reno Pierce?”

Reno laughed as they crossed the large atrium toward the Essex Room. Music drifted out from behind the double doors.

“Must be fate.” Reno winked and walked ahead.

Maybe. And maybe this time, Tate would get it right.

Tate followed Reno into the Essex Room, and his breath caught at the scene before him. Every public space of The Retreat had been festively decorated for the holidays, including a huge Christmas tree in the atrium, but the Essex Room put the rest of the hotel to shame.

Red and white lights were hung along the join of the walls and ceiling, shimmering garlands were wrapped around tables and posts, and colorful baubles hung at random heights from the ceiling and light fixtures. Mixed amongst the baubles were large boughs of mistletoe, tied with bright red ribbons. There was a large Christmas tree in one corner—complete with gift-wrapped boxes around its base—tall bar tables surrounding the dance floor, and on a small stage sat a black baby grand piano.

Men and women milled about with drinks in their hands and rosy cheeks, and the space was filled with happy chatter, laughter, and holiday music. Tate would never have guessed the crowd was banded together with stranded strangers. Even the guy that had “business in Denver” seemed to be enjoying himself. The speed daters were easy to pick out since many wore the same clothes they’d been wearing on date night—or new clothes he recognized from the sportswear shop. Some of them had paired up for more than sharing rooms, if the couples kissing under mistletoe like no one else was around, were any indication.

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