Naughty All the Way

1. Kayla

1

KAYLA

I need my daughter to explain to me why, precisely, she thought having her wedding in Coal’s Lake, Canada was a good idea. At Christmas.

But you know what? It’s okay. It’s. Okay. It’s been my mantra all day. It’s okay.

It’s okay that my ex-husband thought it was a good idea to book himself on the same flight into Alberta as me.

It’s okay that he utterly failed to reserve his own rental car and looked at me with no sense of irony in the line at customs and said he thought it’d be fine if he just hopped in with me. This, from the man I finally divorced because he never took responsibility for anything, ever, whether it was our relationship, our daughter, his “career,” or, you know, life .

It’s okay that he’s talked incessantly on the drive to the hotel about his new business idea. The one that has no actual plans attached to it and consists of “well, weed is legal now in some states” and “I know some guys.” And it’s okay that even at thirty-eight, he’s still so good-looking that the clerk at the front desk looks like she’s in a bit of a daze from his focused attention.

I know the feeling, sister. It’s how he got me pregnant at sixteen.

As I wait my turn to check in, I finally tune into the conversation he’s having with the clerk.

“I’m positive I made the reservation,” Steve is saying. He leans closer, turning on the charm, and I can guarantee he’s flashing his dimple and giving her his signature Steve smolder. So even though I feel the slightest bit of heart palpitations happening at the words he just said, I’m certain he’ll charm a room out of her. “Is there another place you might be able to look, Cindy?”

There we go. He’s used her name. Now we’re in business.

Cindy shakes herself out of the Steve-induced haze and focuses back on her screen, typing furiously and making a good show of things. After a few minutes, she frowns at the screen and then looks back up at him. “Mr. Long?—”

“Steve, please,” he interrupts. I’ll bet a million bucks he winked when he said it.

“Steve,” she says, beaming at him. “I found your reservation.”

“Perfect!” He straightens off the counter and relief floods my system.

“Um—except it’s not at this property,” Cindy finishes.

Oh no. No no no. This can’t be happening.

“Well, that’s okay, right? Just switch the reservation to here and problem solved,” Steve says.

I glare at the back of his head. I’m going to kill him. I can hear it now: Sorry, sweetie, I know he was your dad and all, but the hotel put us in the same room and one thing led to another and suddenly my stiletto was in his eye.

“Welcome to Jamie’s Lodge.” The other clerk is smiling and nodding me forward.

“Hi, checking in for Kayla Long,” I say, pushing my license and credit card across the white marble to him, eager to check in and leave Steve to face his problem alone.

The clerk—Axl, according to his name tag—takes them and gets to work.

“I’m so sorry,” Cindy is saying. “We don’t have any rooms available. Lots of people in town for the holidays. But you can call this other hotel and maybe they have something.”

I see her pointing at something out of my periphery and am not sure what’s more shocking: the fact that Steve hasn’t charmed her into a room, or that she’s managed to peel her eyes off him long enough to direct his attention to the other hotel.

“Here we go,” Axl says, flashing pearly-white teeth at me. “Found you. What brings you to town?”

Still straining my ears to listen to Steve and Cindy, I answer, “My daughter’s getting married.”

His face brightens, but there’s confusion in there, too. “Fantastic! But you don’t look old enough for that.”

Is he flirting with me? I focus on him. He is . He’s precious. He looks like he’s about ten years old with his little baby face and no facial hair. “Axl,” I say, giving him my full attention. “I’m thirty-eight. My daughter is twenty-two. Can you give me my room key now?” I smile brightly but honestly, I’m over it.

His eyes widen. He gets it. “Right. Sorry. Here you are,” he says, handing me back my license and card, and then writing the room number on the key card holder. “And here’s your key.”

I turn, desperate to escape the lobby and any fallout of my ex’s inadequacies. “Thank you.”

I walk quickly, the clack of my boots mixing with the wheels of my suitcase as I flee like a damn criminal, my heart pounding. Please let me escape. Please let me escape. Pl ? —

“Kay, wait up.”

God dammit. But I don’t stop. If I don’t stop, if I make it into the elevators, then I can pretend I don’t know him.

“Kay, hang on. Kay. Kayla!” He’s literally shouting across the lobby, and if the aesthetic of this place was anything other than cottage core meets cozy lodge on a lake, his voice would have ricocheted off the walls.

I stop, beaten, and lower my head. I’m still not turning around. That lazy asshole can come to me.

And of course, he does. “Kayla, didn’t you hear me?” His blue eyes, with their ever-present mischievous sparkle, find mine as he grins. “Sooo,” he starts, splaying his hands out.

“No.” I try to go around him.

“Come on, you didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he wheedles, hopping in front of me and walking backwards.

“You want to stay in my room,” I shoot back. “The answer is no.”

His brow furrows. “Is it the money? You know I’m good for it.”

I laugh incredulously. “You’re good for it ? That’d be a first.”

“You heard the girl,” he continues.

“Woman.”

“Woman,” he repeats. “And there aren’t any more rooms here.”

“Call the other hotel.”

“I did, and they’re booked.”

I slam my knuckle against the elevator call button, wishing it was Steve’s face. “Sounds like a you problem,” I say.

He slumps. “Kayla,” he says, his expression sincere. “Honestly. It’s our daughter’s wedding. Can’t we let bygones be bygones? Just for now?”

The doors ding open and I step inside. He follows.

I refuse to look at him as we go to the fourth floor. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

“That’s fine,” he answers immediately.

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit if there are two beds in this room, you’re on the floor.”

“Got it.”

The doors part and I walk out, striding purposefully in the direction of my room. Steve follows me, same as he always has.