Page 28 of Breakfast Included

Tate shook his head as he scanned the car for hidden cameras because this had to be a joke. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a second. He could not believe he was about to do this. Then he looked directly at Roger as he said, “Could we go to the third floor, please?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the elevator shook as the wheels and pulleys set into motion, and the car began its slow ascent.

“You havegotto be kidding me.”

Roger laughed and clapped Tate playfully on the shoulder. “Told you. Haunted.”

Tate didn’t know how the old man had done it, but the thrill on his face was too priceless to spoil by learning the secret behind the trick. When they reached the third floor, the doors opened without incident, and Tate exhaled in relief.

“Don’t forget to say thank you when we step out, or we won’t get back in,” Roger said as he stepped out ahead of Tate.

“Or we could take the non-haunted elevator,” Tate quipped.

Roger chuckled. “Or that.”

But just for good measure, he whispered a “thank you” as he stepped out.

Tate pulled his phone out of his pocket as he started down the hallway to let Reno know he’d be a few minutes longer. He had no idea how long they’d been stuck in the haunted elevator, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The screen was dark—he must have turned it off. He pressed the side button and held it to boot up the phone, but nothing happened. He groaned.

“Really?” he mumbled under his breath.

“What’s that?” Roger asked as he stopped at the door to his room.

“Nothing.” Tate shook his head. “My phone is dead.”

“Just as well,” Roger replied. He opened the door and waved Tate in ahead of him. “Those devices are albatrosses. People need physical connection and interaction for healthy minds.”

“I agree with you on that, but you can’t deny these tools are a benefit,” Tate argued. “Like now, when I need to let my . . . friend know I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Hmm. How’s that working out for you?” Roger teased.

Tate narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Roger had him there.

“You can use the phone in my room.”

Tate grimaced and fought the urge to kick at imaginary rocks on the ground. “I could if I knew his phone number.” He held up his phone and wiggled it. “It’s in here.”

Rogertsked. “Another reason for not relying on devices.”

Another point to Roger, Tate mused, but they needed to hurry. Reno was going to wonder where he was soon, if he wasn’t already, and start thinking the worst. That was the last thing Tate wanted. He gnawed absently at his lower lip as he looked around Roger’s room. He had three large suitcases and a small travel bag in addition to Tate’s own overnight bag.

“Uh . . . That’s a lot of luggage,” he said.

Roger followed Tate’s gaze. “I’ve been up here for three weeks. I was supposed to be back before Christmas, if it weren’t for the avalanche. My agent is not happy right now.”

“Your agent?”

“I’m an author,” Roger replied. “I come up here every year to work without interruption. It’s also a great place for inspiration.”

“What do you write?”

“Gay romance,” Roger said proudly and then winked. “There’s a lot of story fodder up here at the Rainbow Inn.”

Tate raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “You sly old dog.”

Roger waggled his eyebrows. Tate shook his head and laughed harder as he imagined Roger ducked out behind trees and planters, watching the goings-on around the hotel and taking notes for his books.

“I’m sure your young man knows you just got caught up and will be right out,” Roger said. “What’s his name?”

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