Misbooked for Love

Chapter 3

3

CLARA

I practically fly down the hallway, my cheeks burning from the embarrassment of what just happened. My heart is pounding, and my mind is still reeling from the sight of that gorgeous man, half naked, dripping wet, and glaring at me like I was in the wrong. I barrel past a group of teenagers taking selfies in front of a giant heart-shaped wreath by the door, my boots squeaking against the polished wooden floors as I make my way back to the front desk.

The receptionist from this afternoon is still there, except now she’s wearing a light-up heart necklace that, frankly, looks ridiculous. She looks up, startled as I skid to a stop in front of her. Her smile is polite but a little deprecating, as if I were a lost puppy trying to find its way home. And it only makes my irritation spike.

“Hi, um, Laura,” I say, squinting at her name tag while I’m violently blinded by her glowing necklace. “Excuse me.” I’m breathless and fumbling over my words. “There is a man in my villa. A man who is not supposed to be there.”

She blinks, her smile faltering. “Oh... I’m sorry, could you clarify?—”

“I just walked into my villa—villa fourteen, the one you checked me into—and… and found a man. Naked. Well, almost naked. In my room. In my bathroom. Using the towel I was planning to use tonight after a long bath. I need a bath.” I wave my hands, trying to get my point across without bursting into hysterical laughter at the absurdity of it all. “I mean, why would he be there if it’s my villa?”

Her eyes widen, and she clicks around on her computer, the screen reflecting off her heart necklace in frantic little flashes. “Oh my goodness,” she says, cocking her head to the side, analyzing whatever is on the screen in front of her. “I’m so sorry about that. Let me just pull up your reservation details again.”

I stand there, bouncing on the balls of my feet, my mind replaying the mortifying scene of the man wrapped in that towel, his broad shoulders dripping water all over the floor. He looked furious, and honestly, I don’t blame him. But it’s not my fault. I booked this room fair and square. With the hundreds of thousands of points I’ve accumulated throughout my years traveling. Yes, it’s mine. And I deserve it because it’s been hell for the past three years, and I just need space and time and to be freaking alone.

“There’s clearly been some sort of mistake,” I add, trying to sound calm but failing miserably. “I was told it was my villa. You checked me in! I came here to relax, not share my space with some asshole—” I cut myself off, realizing I’m venting to the wrong person and this is not what she needs right now.

Laura the receptionist looks up, her face apologetic and white as a ghost. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Ledesma. It seems there was an error in our system.” She looks back down at her screen and tap, tap, taps her keyboard a few times, hemming and hawing. “It seems,” she repeats, “we double-booked villa fourteen.”

She finally looks up at me and blinks a few times, expectant.

“Okay,” I drawl, trying to get the conversation moving. I have no answer for her. I’m expecting a solution to come from her lips any second now.

The man, that disgustingly good-looking asshole that I had the dishonor of looking at half naked just now, chooses that very moment to walk up, his thick thighs encased in gray sweatpants and his lean torso covered in a long sleeve white shirt. He’s walking in the direction of the front desk, a stoic look on his face and his stride casual and slow, like this is not a problem at all.

“And, it seems, unfortunately, because of the Valentine’s Day weekend and the snowstorm, all of our other accommodations are currently full.”

I stare at her, uncomprehending. “What do you mean, full? Like, completely full?”

“Yes,” she says with an apologetic wince. “Every villa, every room. We’ve had so many unexpected guests due to the storm back east, and with the holiday weekend… I’m really, truly sorry.”

“Wait, what storm? You know what? Not important right now.” I shake my head and close my eyes, taking a deep, calming, centering breath. “So you’re telling me that I’m stuck sharing with—” I gesture vaguely in the direction of this guy, who is now standing next to me and looking at the heart-shaped necklace like it offends him. My frustration bubbles over. “I mean, I don’t even know him! He could be anyone!”

“I’m right here,” he replies, crossing his arms, his muscles bunching up with the movement. “And I can say the same thing about you, too.”

“Oh! Mr. Hall, Tom!” She nods enthusiastically at him, her heart necklace moving along with her. “I’m so sorry for the confusion, sir,” she adds, looking straight at him with the biggest smile ever displayed by a human being. And I would know, I work with people all day long.

“We’ve already comped your resort fee, and we’re happy to offer complimentary services—spa access, meal vouchers, anything we can do to make this right,” she continues, her voice earnest. “But unfortunately, as far as lodging goes, there’s no other option at the moment.”

“Can you call any of the other properties in town? I mean, someone has to have at least one room.”

“Let me see what I can do.” My shoulders slump, and Laura retreats to a back office, her steps hurried and urgent. This was supposed to be my solo getaway, my chance to clear my head and figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life. Instead, I’m sharing my space with a stranger who already seems to hate me. This is what I get for even thinking things were looking up. I can hear the man’s breathing next to me, his fingers tapping on the reception desk with a completely random tempo.

“I’m Clara,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze because I really don’t want to be here. It’s obvious he doesn’t either, but we have to start somewhere, especially the way it’s looking right now.

“Thomas,” he says, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “Tom. I’m Tom.” And as soon as the last letter of his name is out of his mouth, his hand goes back to tapping on the flat surface in front of him. The moment is tense, and at least for me, I’m wishing and hoping there’s a solution. I imagine it’s the same for him, if only because sharing a room with a complete stranger is not ideal.

But as soon as the receptionist comes back, only a few minutes later, her face tells me everything I need to know. “Fine,” I mutter, rubbing my temples and not letting her give me the bad news. “This is not how I pictured spending my vacation.” Just my luck.

Laura nods, her expression genuinely sympathetic. “I completely understand. If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. But for now…” She trails off, helpless.

I give her a tight smile and turn away, heading back down the hall with a knot in my stomach. Sharing my space with a man—with anyone!—wasn’t on my agenda, and every step I take back towards my room feels like I’m marching down to my own personal hell. Especially because the goal of this trip is to spend time with myself to try to figure out what is next.

The door creaks when I open it, and I peek inside with caution, half expecting to find the man still half naked and fuming in the living room, even though I just saw him fully clothed in the lobby thirty minutes ago. But he’s not. I take a hesitant step inside, glancing around. The space looks the same as it did when I first arrived—cozy, with a giant fireplace and an oversized sofa that is practically begging for someone to curl up on it and forget the world exists outside of this mountain bubble. Except now, my problems are very much here, cohabitating with me.

I spot him sitting at the kitchen island, his hair now completely dry and mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it relentlessly. After the conversation with the receptionist and my abrupt walking away, I sat by the giant fireplace in the lobby and looked into the fire. I guess he made it back to the room before I did, and now he’s scrolling through his phone, clearly tense. The moment he hears me, he looks up, his expression something I can absolutely decipher after years in customer-facing roles. He’s annoyed as fuck. And he should be, of course. But it’s not my fault.

“They messed up,” I say, my voice sharper than how I planned it in my head. “They double-booked, and apparently there’s not a single open room in this whole town for me to move to.” I toss my sweater on the counter, my irritation flaring up again just looking at him. “So, unless you’ve got a magic solution, it looks like we’re stuck.”

“I know. I was there.” He sighs, setting his phone down and closing his eyes slowly. One of his hands twitches on the island, as if he wants to grab something and throw it to the floor in a classic temper tantrum. “Great. Just great.” He runs a hand through his hair, tousling the brown locks. “I was supposed to have this place to myself.”

“Yeah, well, I was supposed to have this place to myself, too. So, now what?”

The man exhales slowly, his frustration palpable. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do. But I don’t have anywhere else to go, and clearly, neither do you. So let’s figure this out.”

We stare at each other, two strangers forced into a ridiculous situation. The tension between us feels like it could snap at any moment. Finally, Tom leans back, crossing his arms, and oh boy, the muscles again. I was not prepared for such a sight, and I’ve seen this man half naked, for crying out loud!

“Listen, Clara,” he says. “It’s a big villa. I’ll just take the room and I’ll make sure to stay out of your hair. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. Easy.”

“Easy,” I repeat, lifting one shoulder casually, in the most nonchalant way I know how. Even though I’m feeling very chalant right now. I stand a little straighter, folding my arms to match his stance. “Except that I was here first, so you know, the room is mine.”

He raises an eyebrow but nods. “Okay.”

All right, easy it is, it seems.

“And I like to have breakfast alone,” I blurt out quickly. “It’s my thing.” I inwardly cringe, because that’s not even remotely true, but just his mere energy makes me want to have the last word.

He snorts, though there’s no real humor behind it. “Fine.”

I stare at him. More like glare. And he responds in kind, his light brown eyes studying my face intently. His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips, then back, blinking for a moment before looking away.

He’s handsome. In that rugged , I work behind a desk and get paid good money to say things like circle back , and we need alignment , and make sure you secure the funds way. I want to snort at my own joke, because there’s nothing rugged about him, but there’s totally a corporate, finance bro vibe emanating from those muscles.

And then I catch myself looking at him with my stupid, dangerous heart eyes, and I stop. Because this is what happens to me, and then disaster comes knocking. So instead, I huff and turn around, frustrated at myself, and make really sure I get the last word in. “Yep, take it or leave it, my dude.”