Chapter Four
I shuffle a few papers,tucking them inside the front reception desk.
“Are you going out for the art walk tonight?” Brittany asks.
I shake my head. “I’m supposed to go spend the evening with my sister and nephew tonight.”
“Aw, fun. I love Oliver.”
My mouth turns up in a smile. “He’s fun. But I’ll be here another hour cleaning up.” I wave my hand toward the door. “You can go, though. I got this.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Go meet up with Brandon.”
She squeals. “Thank you, thank you!” She squeezes me in a hug, then stills.
“Brittany? You okay?”
“Daaaaaaaang,” she says under her breath. “Little Miss Canceled Wedding is ready to turn some heads.”
I pull away from Brittany and turn to look toward the elevator, where I’m stunned speechless. Brooke takes deliberate steps in her high heels, her crimson dress hugging every curve of her body, and her red lips give me the most vivid memories of the kisses we shared five years ago.
She smiles gently at me. “Hey, Tyler.” She presses her lips together. “Or should I say, Mr. Matthews?”
I know what she’s trying to say. She’s embarrassed for assuming that I was just a pool boy here. Not that I blame her, considering the way I presented myself in the past. But times and things have changed, mostly for the better.
“It’s okay. You can still call me Tyler,” I say back.
Brittany’s eyes bounce back and forth between us. “Wait…wait. You guys know each other?”
“Uh, sort of?” I say, just as Brooke exclaims a quick, “No, not at all!”
Brittany raises a brow at us. “Uh huh, sure.” She grabs her purse off the reception desk and heads to the door, but not before poking me in the chest. “I’ll get the truth out of you soon enough.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I reply.
She laughs and heads out the door, waving over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”
I resume my paper shuffling, trying to appear unaffected by Brooke’s appearance. But my jittery fingers betray me, and I slice the tip of my index finger on the edge of a sheet of paper.
I hiss, immediately shoving my finger in my mouth.
“Are you okay?” Brooke asks.
Smooth moves, Tyler. What a way to make an impression. Gotta love a man who can’t handle a paper cut. I take my finger out of my mouth and shake my hand to dry it off. “Yep. I’m fine.”
“Let me see.” She holds her hand out.
“It’s fine.”
She wiggles her fingers, egging me on.
“Seriously, Brooke, it’s just a paper cut.”
Not one to be deterred, she reaches out and snatches my hand, holding it close to her face and examining the cut carefully. Her touch sets my nerves on fire, and it’s not just because of my injury.
She grimaces in sympathy. “Ouch. I hate paper cuts.”
“Yeah, same.” Reluctantly, I pull my hand away from her grasp. “But we have plenty of band-aids here, so I’ll be fine.” I bend down and open the cabinet at the bottom of the reception desk, where a first aid kit waits for moments like these. “See?” I say, holding it up.
She smiles. “I guess you’re managing just fine, after all.”
I shrug. “I have band-aids and a hotel. What else could a man ask for?”
“Yeah, so…this is your hotel?” she asks slowly.
I nod.
“How…when…” Her voice trails off.
“Four years ago, I started as an intern.” I lean in toward her. “So, yes, I was a pool boy at one point.”
She smiles, but it’s a nervous one, like she’s worried she offended me.
“It was an easy job, just a way to pay the bills so I could surf whenever I wanted. But it turns out I really enjoy working here. I love Canyon Cove, you know? So helping visitors find the best spots to eat, showing them around, and giving them the best experience Southern California has to offer was better than I expected.”
“I can see you being great at that,” she says. “You were the best tour guide when I was here before.”
I smile widely. “Thanks. That means a lot.” I check my watch. “Speaking of which, you’re probably trying to head out for the art walk, so I won’t keep you.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” She looks out the front door at the people milling around on the street. “It’ll last for a few hours, right? At least, it did when we went last time.”
I nod. Does she want to stay and talk?
“Plus,” she continues, holding up a perfectly manicured finger, “you still haven’t told me how you ended up owning the hotel.”
My chest warms. I guess she does want to keep talking. “Well, the owner at the time was this crotchety old man, Richard. He had no family, and he’d owned the hotel for years. To be honest, he was barely going through the motions. The hotel was only half-full most of the time, but he had paid everything off when he was really young, so it was just something to keep his mind active. But I had other ideas.” I smile, remembering when I met with him to discuss my plans for the hotel. “Surprisingly, he really liked my vision for the hotel. So he started training me to take over his place. And last year…well…”
“Did he die?” Brooke asks, her hand over her heart.
“No! He’s fine. He retired and moved to Minnesota. Can you believe it? He said he was sick of the beach.”
Brooke laughs. “I don’t know how anyone could ever get sick of the beach.”
“Agreed.” I hold her gaze for a moment, sparks flying between us. But I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. After all, she was supposed to be here on her honeymoon. I’m sure the electricity I feel between us is only one-sided. I look down and resume shuffling my papers. “Well, I should let you get to the art walk.”
“Did you…are you going?”
I snap my head up to look at her. “Uh, not tonight. I was going to spend the evening with my sister and nephew.”
“Oh.” She presses her red lips together, then glances at the front door. “I guess…”
My phone buzzes on the desk. I look down and see a text from my sister.
Leila
Oliver just started puking. You’d better stay away. This is the second stomach bug he’s caught this year, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. That includes you.
“Ugh.” I type out a response to her.
I’m so sorry. Do you want me to pick up some Gatorade and drop it off for him?
Leila’s response is immediate.
No! Stay away! Shield yourself from the germs! I’ll make Carson pick some up on his way home.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asks.
“My nephew got the stomach flu, so I guess I’m free for the evening.” I lock my phone and set it down on the counter. “I have to wait until?—”
“Hey, boss.” Bryce walks through the front door of the hotel, my late-night relief. “I know I’m here early, but I figured you wouldn’t mind starting your time off.”
I swear the universe is trying to push me and Brooke together tonight. And it seems like she wants to be with me, too.
Well, who am I to question the universe?
“Thanks, Bryce. I appreciate it.” I file the papers inside the desk, straighten, and smile at Brooke. “Ready?”
Her perfect lips lift into a huge grin, the one I remember so well from five years ago. The one I haven’t seen since then. “Ready.”