Page 9 of Breakfast Included

Tate followed without a word.

When they arrived at the main lobby, there was a small crowd formed around Bryan, the manager, who was already speaking.

“—an avalanche last night, which has cut the hotel off from the road and from power,” Bryan was saying. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink all night. “We don’t know at the moment how long it’s going to take until the road can be cleared and everybody can leave.”

Oh no. . . Reno turned to Tate with raised eyebrows, and saw his thoughts mirrored in Tate’s expression. They were still stuck. He focused back on what Bryan was saying.

“The forecast said the snowfall will get heavier near evening, and the wind is picking up already, which doesn’t help with the road clearing. The hotel has enough food in storage to last for two weeks. Nobody’s going to starve.”

“Two weeks!” Reno gasped. A few heads turned his way, but he ignored them. They couldn’t possibly be stuck up here for two whole weeks. Could they? Would the generators even hold up that long?

“We’ll miss Christmas with our families,” he said to Tate, not even caring that his voice cracked.

“I’m sure that’s just a worst-case scenario and we’ll be out in no time,” Tate said reassuringly and then added, “Besides, I’m sure they’ll understand. It’s not like we’re staying up here by choice now.”

“True. But still . . . What are we going to do?” He hadn’t noticed the “we” until the words were out. What washegoing to do? Tate had his cabin . . .

“Don’t worry,” Tate said as though he’d heard Reno’s thoughts. He placed his hand on Reno’s arm and gave a gentle squeeze. “My cabin is your cabin.”

Those damn little flutters in Reno’s chest took off again at Tate’s touch. How long would he be stuck up here? With Tate? How long could he keep his distance? And more importantly, did he truly want to?

Needing a distraction, he pulled his cell phone out to call his dad and tell him about the avalanche, if he hadn’t heard about it already, and to let him know that he was okay. But he had no service, and last night’s message still sat unsent. He sighed as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. He’d heard that cell service would be spotty at best, but his dad would be beside himself with worry until he heard from Reno.

“—little program to keep our guests entertained,” Bryan continued when Reno tuned back in. He’d figure out what they missed later. “Today, there will be a snowperson contest in the afternoon, as well as an open skate on the pond. Hot chocolate and cookies will be provided by the hotel, and I heard there’s going to be a prize for the best snowperson.

“Tomorrow, there will be board games in the Cambridge Room and a casual mixer with a bar and snacks in the Lancaster Room. The time will be announced on the poster at the reception. On the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth, Tanya and Crystal will be doing ballroom dancing lessons, also in the Lancaster Room. We’re truly sorry about the inconvenience and hope we can all pull together to get through this situation. The posters with all the necessary information will be up shortly.”

Games and dancing lessons? Well, people had to do something to kill the time while they waited, he guessed. Though, it was cool of the hotel management to organize things to make being stranded more fun and relieve some stress from missing Christmas Day with loved ones.

“While in Rome . . .” Tate said with a gleam in his eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t feeling any stress. “Since we’re here for the time being, wehaveto do the snowperson-building contest.”

Reno snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Tate grabbed the sleeve of Reno’s jacket and gave a little tug. “C’mon, let’s go stake out a spot with the best snow.”

“Pretty sure the snow is the same everywhere.”

“Uh, but there are pockets of better snow.”

Reno shook his head.Better snow. Hopefully, the snow up here had enough moisture to pack solid. Down in Boulder it was too dry to even form a snowball.

He waved toward the glass doors that led outside. “Lead on, oh wise one.”

* * *

Half an hourinto the contest and they still hadn’t managed to build anything that looked even remotely like a snowperson. They’d managed to form one large ball, except it looked more like an oval that had been rammed by a bull a dozen times too many. The middle snowball that would have made up the torso was the same size, and the top ball was ridiculously small in comparison.

“This is sad.” Reno stared at their masterpiece with his hands on his hips. Sculptors they were not. “It looks like some sort of alien from an ice planet.”

“That’s perfect!” Tate laughed and ran off. He returned with a handful of icicles he must have pulled off the nearby roof and started stabbing them into the head of their snow thing.

“That’s his hair!” he proclaimed proudly.

Reno covered his face with gloved hands—the new, over-priced gloves he’d purchased in the hotel store—and groaned. “We suck at this.”

Tate stood back to admire their creation. His shoulders slumped, but his smile never faltered. “We seriously do.”

“Let’s go get some hot chocolate,” Reno said as he nudged Tate with his elbow. “Before anyone realizes we made this atrocity.”

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