Page 73 of About Last Christmas
His protectiveness is sweet, but I want to go home. I’m hungry, tired, and devastated about losing the Vallerton. As if this trip hasn’t already cost me emotionally, now it’s going to hit me financially. I don’t want to pay for a hotel room. But whiteouts are no joke. I’d only experienced it once whenwalking down Main Street. The sudden rush of snowfall can reduce visibility to the point that it’s hazardous, especially when driving.
I direct Leo where to go and notice the snow’s coming down harder and faster. Now that the sun’s down, the drop in temperature will make the roads slick.
What should be a quick jaunt down the street takes us longer because of the weather. We finally reach the hotel, and I blink at the full parking lot. “What’s going on?” I can’t imagine all these cars are here because their drivers wished to escape the snow. Sugarvale doesn’t getthatkind of traffic in the winter.
Leo finally finds a parking spot. He grabs his bag, and we race toward the automatic doors.
A “Welcome to SugarFest!” sign greets us as we enter the lobby.
“SugarFest?” I say aloud as I take in the space. Large gumballs—basically multi-colored inflatable balls on fishing line—suspend from the ceiling. Floormats shaped like chocolate squares lead to the front desk. A rainbow balloon arch resembling Skittles stands at the far left. This place is like Candy Land on steroids. People are wandering about, talking and laughing. Well, this explains the foot traffic at Midge’s. A man dressed as an old-fashioned soda jerk, wearing a red-striped hat and holding a megaphone, announces some sort of event that is about to start.
“Event?” I look at Leo, who only shrugs.
“Let’s just see about some rooms.”
Leo and I approach the front desk.
A lanky man around my age puts his phone down with a sigh. “Can I help you?”
I open my mouth to speak, but Leo beats me to it. “We need two rooms for tonight.”
“Sorry, we don’t have any standard rooms left. It’s SugarFest, if you haven’t noticed.” The man—Dorian, as his name tag reads—clearly snoozed during his training video on customer service. What’s worse, no vacancy. No room at the inn. Cute. Our situation is far different than Mary and Joseph’s, but I’m convinced our dislike for our respective innkeepers is mutual.
Leo takes the man’s sarcasm with a good-natured nod. “Yeah, I see that. Are you saying you don’t have anything?”
“Well …” Dorian’s mouth twists, and he flicks a glance at me. “We do have the Sugar Rush Suite.”
Leo opens his wallet. “We’ll take it.” I tug his elbow, drawing his eyes to me. “What’s wrong?”
“This sounds pricey.” I keep my tone low, but out of my peripheral, I note Dorian leaning to catch my words. I retreat a step, pulling Leo with me. “And it seems like he’s being difficult just because he can. Like a kid who got bullied in high school for bad acne but has since developed amazing skin. So now he criticizes everyone’s complexion.”
Leo tilts his head as if he’s unsure whether to laugh at my unhinged assumption or snag me another Snickers bar. To be fair, I’m uncertain too. It’s been a day.
He smooths a lock of hair from my face. “Is there another hotel close?”
“Ugh, no.” Though I’m sorely tempted to return to Midge’s and demand a rematch. Winner gets to camp at her store. I totally spotted a Chesterfield sofa that looked comfortable.
“This is probably our best bet.” He squeezes my hand.
With a grimace, I return to the counter. “What exactly is the Sugar Rush Suite? And how much is it?” I’m hoping the accommodations include more than one option for sleeping. Perhaps a pull-out sofa, a couple of beds. Maybe an extra room entirely. Gran and I once stayed at an Embassy Suites, and the front desk manager upgraded our room because the airconditioner had broken in the one we booked. I ended up having my own space with my own bathroom. It was almost like a tiny apartment.
Dorian’s beady gaze settles on me. “It’s fifteen hundred dollars. Plus tax.”
“What?! For a single night?” Do they have diamond-studded toothbrushes? Bed sheets woven with gold-silk thread? For the love. “Why so much?”
“It’s the honeymoon package.”
Oh gosh.
He lifts a flyer and reads in a monotone voice, “The Sugar Rush Suite is designed to enhance romance. The amenities include a heart-shaped jacuzzi and private balcony.” He pauses to yawn. “It comes with a three-hundred-dollar credit to the hotel shop, which has everything from nail files to formalwear. And two tickets to tonight’s Dough Ball.”
I’m not about to ask what the Dough Ball is. “Can’t you de-package it? We don’t need all that extra stuff.” And I’m trying very hard not to think about staying in one room with Leo.
“Sorry, miss.” Dorian doesnotlook sorry. “I’m just the front desk agent.”
“Can I speak with a manager?”
“She’s judging the Sugar Cookie Icing Competition. It may be a while.” A petite brunette walks past, and Dorian totally checks her out, following her with his gaze until she disappears down the hall. He seems to remember we’re standing here and shrugs. “Since I’m unauthorized to hold the room without a deposit, I can’t guarantee no one else will claim it, considering it’s the last one we have and the weather’s getting worse. So …”
