Page 5 of The Christmas Cover Rule
He smiles and laughs at my stupid joke before showing me to his waiting car. We aren’t even out of the airport pick-up line yet, and the views outside my window look like a postcard.For the second time today, I’m taken aback by the beauty surrounding me.
The palm trees blur together as my mind drifts off to the other beauty I’d been struck by today. I let Stella off the hook by not letting on to the fact that I felt her heated gaze on me throughout the coffee shop and then again at the gate. I smile to myself because it’s funny how painfully obvious she was. Whatwasn’tobvious was how unprepared I was for how it would feel to lock eyes with her. When her startled gaze found mine, it felt like all the fucking wind had been knocked clear from my lungs.
My reaction to her caught me off guard, and I had to have her sit, if only to prove to myself it wasn’t that serious. But every time our eyes met, it felt like she was gently stoking a fire within me. I’m no stranger to being around beautiful women, but Stella is the type of beautiful that will knock you on your ass and have you saying ‘thank you’ for just being allowed to exist in her presence.
Regret starts to eat away at me that I didn’t find out where she was staying or even try to get her phone number. Add that to the growing list of things that were out of character for me.
“First time visiting, Mr. Jonas?” Andres asks, roughly pulling me from my thoughts.
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“Well you picked at the perfect time to come. It’s beautiful this time of year, busy this particular year, but no less beautiful.” I catch his smile in the review mirror as he turns down a tree-lined path.
Andres pulls up to the roundabout out front, giving me my first glimpse of where I’ll be staying for the week. “Beautiful indeed,” I mumble to myself.
Like the airport, the lobby is also open-air, but it’s a whole lot more luxurious. Woven basket lanterns hang from theimpossibly high ceilings. Crisp, white couches for tired families to rest their feet fill the reception area. A bar off to the left calls my name, and the colonial-style pillars around the indoor water fountain are draped in Christmas lights.
I stroll across the terracotta tiled floors to a man working the front desk wearing the same shirt Andres wore.
“Good afternoon, sir. How are you today?” the man asks, while a woman beside him offers me a drink and a smile.
“Exceptional.” I take the drink and return the grin.
“Wonderful! Are you checking in?”
“Yes, sir. Last name’s Jonas.”
The man—Soto, based on his name tag—begins typing away on his computer while making polite chatter about my flight. Once I’ve been checked in, he folds two sets of room keys between an envelope and pulls out two black satin wrist bands.
“The honeymoon suite.” He beams while motioning for my arm and securing the band around my wrist. “That’s one of our nicest rooms, and with the week we have, you really lucked out.”
“How so?”
“We’re fully booked and busy this weekend.”
“Yeah, Andres said something about that.”It would appear I’m not the only one who doesn’t go home for the holidays.I pull the sleeve of my suit jacket back down, wishing I could take it off, but considering my dress shirt is sticking to me like a pair of assless, leather chaps, I’ll have to wait until I get to my room.
“Alright, we’ll be all set here as soon as your wife shows up.”
“My…”Honeymoon suite.“Oh. She’s around here somewhere,” I say, looking around for my nonexistent wife. “You know what? I’ll save you the trouble. I can take the wristband to her.” I extend my hand and my most charming smile.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jonas, it’s the resort’s policy that I put the wristband on each person.”
“Of course.” I tap the counter with my knuckles, replaying the only options I have at this point. I could tell him the truth, which is that I don’t have a wife… I don’t even have a girlfriend…but that’s besides the point. The point is, I just like nice things.Oh, and by the way, can you get me in touch with the resort owner? I’d like to smooth-talk my lying ass into getting him to sign with my firm.
I try to imagine a scenario where I explain that my boss’s assistant, who I’m pretty sure has a crush on me, booked the honeymoon suite for me because it was one of the last available besides one other basic room. I could cross my fingers and hope he sees the humor in it, but I’m pretty sure he would laugh my fraudulent ass out of here.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Sir?”
I look up at the receptionist, and my gaze follows the woman beside him, who is now getting a new tray of drinks ready for a line of people checking in at a counter a few feet away, where a petite brunette looks to be pleading with the receptionist.
A lying petite brunette.
Before I can think better of it, I’m shouting across the lobby. “Stella!”
Her head full of dark hair twitches, but she doesn’t look back in my direction.
