Page 21 of The Husband Contract
“Oh, no, dear, I’m fine. I’m just fine, thank you.” She winks at me. “You help this handsome young man.” She stares at him pointedly, and I want to groan. This is embarrassing.
“I don’t mind waiting if you need some help, Ma’am,” he says like he’s some sort of perfect gentleman.
“I am just fine. Come on, Spotty,” she says, picking up her dog and heading towards the elevator that Charlotte had had put in, pulling her suitcase with her. I wonder what’s in it.
“Wait, Mrs. Kubica, I need to give you your room keys!” I say, running after her.
“Oh, yes, dear. Sorry, my head’s all over the place today. Now you introduce yourself to that nice young man and help him. See if he’s single and ready to mingle.”
“I will,” I say, blushing because she didn’t even whisper.
I head back to the front and smile at my new guest as if he were just any other random person walking into the hotel. I will not act like a desperado in front of this man.
“Hi, welcome to?—”
“You’ve already welcomed me,” he says, his voice smooth. His eyes crinkle as he gazes at me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s giving me a once-over.
“I know.” I bite down on my lower lip. “How can I help you today?”
“I was hoping to get a room. Are you fully booked?” He looks around the empty lobby, and I laugh awkwardly. I wonder what he would say if I said we were fully booked.
“No, we have a couple of rooms available,” which is an understatement. We have all but two rooms available, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“Oh, great. So can I book one of those rooms?” His tone is kind, and his eyes are warm. There’s an effervescence bouncing off of his body, and I can’t help but be drawn to him. His energy is drawing me in, along with his good looks. It should be illegal to be that good-looking. It should be illegal that I’m here, practically melting in his presence. I wish he had been Clark Kent. If he had met me at the coffee shop, I would have fainted in delirious happiness.
“Sure. Would you like a single room? A double? Would you like one of our suites? Any preference to view?”SHUT UP, Willow.
“I think I definitely like a double bed,” he smiles at me warmly, “just in case I need someone to keep me warm.” He leans forward, his brown eyes radiating friendliness—so different from when I had met him the last time. There’s a flirtatious light there, as well, which makes me feel breathless.
I want to pinch myself. Is this real life?
Did I die and go to Hallmark heaven? Because it’s onlyin Hallmark movies that hot men like him walk into small-town bed and breakfasts like this and flirt with the woman behind the desk.
“Oh, sure,” I say. “Let me see what we have available.”
“Thank you.” He grins. “Feel free to put me in whatever room is your favorite.”
Okay, he is definitely flirting. With me. Willow Montgomery.
Does he know who I am?
I suddenly blurt out, “I’ve actually met you before. I’m not sure if you remember me, but—“ I am not the sort of person who can hold anything in, even when I really want to.
He nods slowly. “I do. I recognized you as soon as I walked into the lobby. You have a very distinctive and attractive face.” He pauses and looks down, almost as if he’s shy and nervous, which makes me warm to him even more. “I feel very embarrassed about the last time we met. I would love to offer you my apologies for how I spoke to you at the Magnolia Club.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. I did not expect him to apologize. “You were just…” I stare at him. “I mean, it was my first day, and I was kind of not sure what I was doing, so if I was delayed or you thought I was rude, I also want to apologize,” I say quickly.
“You have nothing to apologize for. This is surreal, though.” He looks around in wonderment. “I decided to have a getaway for a work trip.” He smiles at me with a look of wonder on his face. “I happened to decide to visit Whispering Haven by chance, as I’ve heard good things. And I randomly found this bed and breakfast on Google. Just yesterday, I was feeling remorse for how I spoke to you that night and was hoping I would see you at the club again to apologize. And what wonder is this? I walk in, and it’s likefate has intervened because here you are again, right before my eyes.” His voice has a dreamy tone, and my heart races slightly. The way he worded his thoughts has such an ethereal and romantic quality to it.
I stare at him with wide eyes. “Fate?” I sound absolutely dumbfounded.
This man—this absolutely gorgeous man who looks like he’s worth a billion dollars—definitely does not believe in fate, does he?
“Yes. Fate,” he purrs, his voice smooth as whiskey. “I think that perhaps we were destined to meet again. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I am surprised you believe in fate.” Understatement of the year.
“I don’t tell anyone this normally,” he says, chuckling, “but I’m really into astrology and signs and soulmates.”
