Chapter 1
ONE
The text came in just about the time Mav Grainger got to the hotel room in Secret Springs.
The Grand Springs Hotel had an amazing Valentine’s Day package. A corner room with a king bed and a view. Two spa tickets for a couples massage. Two days of access to the hot springs pool next door. Champagne, charcuterie, and chocolates…
Too bad he got, from his “we’ve been on a few dates and don’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day” fuckbuddy Jaden.
That was what he got for dating someone who didn’t capitalize anything in a text…
Fuck a doodle doo.
Mav grabbed his weekender bag and headed back down to the front desk, key in his pocket. He needed to see if he could cancel this damn weekend and at least get a partial refund.
If he was going to be alone for the miserable first chocolate holiday of the fucking year, he could do it at his own house in Boulder. He might as well be getting some work done.
He rolled up to the desk, the lady behind it, whose nametag proclaimed her a “Rita”, the same one who had checked him in.
Mav tried for a smile, even though his gut was churning with anger. At himself, mostly, for being stupid enough to spend money on this.
“Hello, Mr. Grainger.” She frowned at his suitcase and laptop bag. “Is something wrong with the room?”
“No. No, the room is great. But I need to cancel.”
Her eyes went wide, her face going blank in the way public-facing workers did when they had no idea what to do. “Oh. Oh, well, erm… Let me get my concierge. He’s also the shift manager today.” She literally ran away from him, zipping off to the back office.
A husky young man with a worried yet still somehow warm smile came hurrying over. “I’m sorry, sir. Can I assist you?”
“I hope so.” He tried again for a smile, but figured he was really baring his teeth like a rabid dog.
Because the more he thought about Jaden, the angrier he got.
Little fuck. He was the one who’d insisted on champagne and chocolate and spa shit.
Mav would have been happy renting a cabin somewhere and watching it snow.
Which it was doing out there right now.
The young man, who had bright hazel eyes that seemed to see a lot, waited, his air expectant.
“So my plus one got a better offer. I need to cancel my package and room.”
The man—Graham, by his nametag—blinked, then smiled.
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry. I can absolutely comp one of the nights of your room, but all of the food and beverage and the spa and pool package are outside the hotel’s purview.
I’m sorry I can’t refund that. Is there anything I can do to make this better for you? ”
He growled his frustration, knowing it wasn’t Graham’s fault, but needing to vent his damn spleen anyway.
“Dammit, I didn’t even want to be here! This is like, the back of beyond.
I should have known better than to book a weekend here when Jaden is such a…
” He stopped, taking a breath. “Well, I guess he’s not anything with me anymore.
Is the hotel going to be full of lovers’ package guests I have to watch being all smoochy? ”
“We have sold quite a few packages, yes, but there’s probably no more chance of you seeing couples here than in any other hotel anywhere in Colorado.” The smile was still on the man’s face but had completely left Graham’s eyes.
He blew out a breath. “Shit.”
He heard Graham draw in a sharp little breath, and he grimaced. “I wasn’t cursing at you. Sorry.” He glanced out the massive windows at the front of the building, which faced up into town, watching the snow fall. “I assume you have room service.”
“Yes, sir, we do. And I’m happy to waive any of the extra room service fees if that will ease the disappointment a little bit. I know it’s a terrible situation. Very discouraging.”
He shrugged. “He was a little twat. I was just hoping to get laid. But whatever.”
Mr. Oh-So-Very Formal’s eyes went wide, and he swore that those lips twitched. Whether in aggravation or amusement, he wasn’t quite sure, but that was definitely a twitch—hard-core, one hundred percent twitching. “Well… I’m sure that someone will also be single and looking to mingle.”
“Did you actually, just say that to me?” He knew it wasn’t reasonable, but God, he was mad.
And embarrassed, and now this entire hotel was gonna know that he was just a loser looking to get laid and got turned down for a better offer.
Go him.
Really what he needed was for everybody to keep their goddamn mouths shut.
“Sorry, sir. I meant no offense.”
“Well, you certainly offended. Do you have a manager, a boss, because I’ve had enough of this nonsense. If I can’t get my money back, and I can’t get out of this, then…”
“Let me get my boss.” Now that smooth, calm voice was cold as ice and about fifty times as cutting, and the little smile was gone.
“Look, I’m—”
The guy just turned around and walked away, shoes clicking on the tile.
Oh damn.
He’d screwed this up ten ways to Sunday, hadn’t he? Now the hotel workers would be hostile to him all weekend because he was an ass.
Mav closed his eyes.
What a fucking day. He’d just wanted some slap and tickle, some champagne, a little laughing, and what he got was tickets to the world’s first-class loser show.
Now he was going to get some little guy in trouble. Goody.
Go team him.
God, he was tired.
Graham sat in the staff break room, because his boss, Charlie, had asked him to stick around for a couple more minutes.
He closed his eyes, counted to seven, then eight.
He was heading for ten, but he didn’t get there because his phone beeped.
Again.
He had already pulled a double. He was waiting for the go-ahead to get off work. He was tired.
Graham was grumpy, and he’d been yelled at by everybody in this entire goddamn hotel—up to including the jerk who was looking for a blowjob and got blown off.
Pun intended.
Seriously, if that was all he wanted and somebody got a better offer, then that was on him.
“Hey, Bridget, what do you need?”
“I have a late dinner and a bottle of champagne for the guy who’s in the honeymoon suite. I don’t have anybody else to take it up. Everything here is swamped.”
“Oh man…” Not that dude. “I’m almost officially off work. I just pulled a double.”
“You’re still in here. You’re still in uniform. I really need you because you’re the best guy ever. I know you’re going to assist.” Bridget could wheedle like a champ.
Of course he was going to help. He couldn’t leave any of them in the weeds. They were as good as family for chrissake.
“All right, I’ll go run it up. Just get everything ready on the tray.”
The big alpha had already ripped Charlie a new asshole, he supposed. Charlie said not to worry about it, that it was no big deal.
But Graham felt like it was a great big deal.
People liked him, right? People talked to him, enjoyed his company, and he hardly ever aggravated a guest. He was the one they sent out when the guests were mad.
He’d really fucked this one up.
But he dutifully trotted to the kitchens to get the cart for the honeymoon suite. God help him if the food got cold. And it smelled like heaven. “You’re sure every detail is perfect? He’s already mauled me once,” he told Bridget.
“I can spit in his potato.”
“Oh, you are so good to me.” Laughing, he blew her a kiss and started pushing the cart.
“I’ve made a plate for you when you’re back down, sweets!”
“Thanks, gorgeous!” He was always starving at the end of a shift, and when stress was bad. And today was double of both.
“No problem! That snow is deep out there.”
Yeah, and he had a tiny car, and he had to walk from the back parking lot of the Merchante building to the staircase that went up next to Fuel restaurant to get to his apartment. Ugh.
He hit the old service elevator, which always made him smile with its pull gate and old lever-action gate lock, and then closed his eyes for a minute while he rode slowly up to three.
That was one of his favorite parts about this hotel. It was old, but the owners celebrated that fact, rather than trying to hide it.
Up on the third floor, he rolled the cart out to take it to 320, the honeymoon suite. He hoped the big, gruff alpha in the room didn’t expect him to open the champagne. Graham sucked at that, and he would undoubtedly make a mess.
He knocked, calling, “Room service!”
The door opened, and the man’s dark brown eyebrows rose in surprise. “Do you do everything, Graham?”
His cheeks heated. “May I come in to leave the cart?”
“Sure.” Those gray eyes narrowed. “Are you still at work from when I checked in?”
He cleared his throat and waited, not answering.
“Come on in.”
“Thank you, sir.” He told himself to be totally calm. Easy. Relaxed.
Chill.
See him be super chill.
“Sure. You can just leave it by the bed.” A laptop sat open on the counterpane, and the pillows were all propped against the headboard. He burned to ask why the man was working on his vacay weekend, but he didn’t open his mouth.
“Would you like me to open your champagne, sir?”
Please say no. Please say no.
A smile curved those gorgeous lips. The man was too damn hot by far. “No. I can do that, thanks. I won’t make you open it if you can’t stay for a glass.”
He smiled back, even if he didn’t want to. “No, I have to gather my things, get my to-go box, and try to get home. My baby car will be struggling as is in the cold and snow. I hope you have a nice supper.” Eight thousand feet was tough on a little hatchback with over 150K miles on it.
“Be careful. That snow is wild out there. And if you need a ride, please come get me. I have chains for my truck.”
His cheeks heated again, this time for a different reason. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Yeah, I was an ass to you. It’s the least I can do.”
“You’d had a terrible shock. I hope we’re helping in every way we can.”
“You really are. It’s a great room, and the food smells awesome. Uh, Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, you too!” He nodded, then handed Mr. Grainger the bill to sign. He blinked when he saw the tip the man wrote it. He would share it with the kitchen staff. “Thank you. Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Graham. Be safe.”
“I will. I promise.” He kind of bobbed his head and half-waved, which wasn’t awkward at all, and then made a run for it.
He didn’t know what to do with himself when this guy was being nice to him, and Mr. Grainger was impossibly hot, and it wasn’t fair that that smile should just make his belly do flip-flops.
He got back down to the kitchen where Bridget had an amazing plate of food waiting for him.
Baked potato with brisket and coleslaw on it with barbecue sauce over the top and some sautéed squash.
He did love him a baked potato. She peered at him, then waved a hand toward the nonexistent windows in the kitchen.
“That storm’s really bad out there, baby boy.
Maybe you ought to sleep here and let the ladies launder your uniform for you. ”
“I wouldn’t want to take up a room. I can—”
She cut him off. “We’ve had some cancellations because of the weather. Why don’t you just stay? I worry about you. Your car is not big, and I know it’s not far to get to your apartment, but I would just rather you wait until the storm was over.”
He sat down to eat his food while he pondered that.
“That’s not a bad idea.” He always kept a change of clothes at the hotel just in case he needed to go out right after work and meet some friends.
So why not? He had a T-shirt he could sleep in.
“I’ll do that. I’ll check with Charlie though and make sure it’s okay. ”
Bridget winked at him. “Just make sure you turn off your cell phone, or you’ll end up getting back to work before it’s time for you to come in.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s the last thing I need.
I’ve had kind of a rough day.” But maybe he could get Bridget to give him a slice of carrot cake to take upstairs with him.
That would kind of rock, and then he could watch the snowstorm from his window and be safe and warm. It didn’t get much better than that.