Chapter 10
TRISH
T he Heirloom Rose Hotel rises like a mirage from the Nevada desert, its gleaming glass and steel architecture a stark contrast to the rugged mountains behind it. As Jake pulls into the circular drive, I can't help but stare, impressed despite my attempts to remain blasé about our destination.
"Wow," I breathe, taking in the elaborate fountain adorned with rose sculptures that dominates the entrance. "Jordyn wasn't kidding when she said Silas went all-out for the venue."
Jake pulls up to the valet stand, his expression shifting subtly into what I now recognize as his professional mode—alert, assessing, slightly detached. "The Heirloom Rose is one of the premier luxury destinations in this part of Nevada," he says, his tone neutral.
A uniformed valet approaches as we exit the truck. Jake hands over his keys with visible reluctance, his eyes scanning the entrance area with the casual-but-not-casual vigilance I've come to expect from him.
"Welcome to the Heirloom Rose," greets the valet with practiced charm. "Checking in today?"
"Yes," Jake confirms. "Under Winters and Walker. Separate reservations."
The emphasis on "separate" doesn't escape me, though I keep my expression neutral.
We discussed this during the drive this morning—the need for professional boundaries once we reached the hotel.
Jake's security contract requires his full focus, and my duties as maid of honor will keep me occupied with wedding preparations.
Our developing relationship needs to remain discreet, at least until after the wedding.
It's logical. Practical. And yet, standing beside him in the hotel lobby, I already miss the intimacy of our journey, the cocoon of the truck where it was just the two of us against the world.
The lobby is a study in understated luxury—soaring ceilings, massive flower arrangements (prominently featuring roses, of course), tasteful artwork, and a subtle sparkle that hints at the casino beyond glass doors to the left.
The check-in desk is staffed by impeccably dressed employees wearing identical welcoming smiles.
"Ms. Walker?" A petite woman in a tailored suit approaches, her smile genuine beneath oversized glasses that magnify her hazel eyes. "I'm Patty Calendar, the wedding coordinator for the Kane-McCrae ceremony. We've been expecting you!"
"Oh! Hi, yes, that's me," I confirm, slightly startled by the immediate recognition.
"Jordyn described you perfectly," Patty says with a bubbly enthusiasm that somehow doesn't feel forced. "She's going to be thrilled you've arrived safely. She's been checking with me every hour!"
Patty turns to Jake, extending her hand. "And you must be Mr. Winters, our security consultant. Riley Griffin from our events team has been coordinating with your staff. He should be—ah, there he is now!"
A clean-cut man in his early thirties approaches, his friendly smile balanced by the alert intelligence in his blue eyes. "Mr. Winters, welcome back to the Heirloom Rose. Everything's prepared according to your specifications."
Jake shakes his hand, his posture subtly straighter, his expression now fully in professional mode. "Thank you, Riley. I'll want to do a walkthrough of the security perimeter as soon as possible."
"Of course," Riley nods. "I've scheduled it for 3 PM, after you've had a chance to get settled. We can move it up if you prefer."
"3 PM works," Jake confirms. "Thank you."
"Wonderful!" Patty claps her hands together. "Now, Ms. Walker?—"
"Trish, please," I interrupt.
"Trish," she corrects with a warm smile. "Jordyn has asked me to bring you directly to her suite once you arrive. She's waiting with the other bridesmaids for the final dress fitting at 2 PM. But first, let's get you checked in and your luggage delivered to your room."
As Patty guides me toward the check-in desk, I glance back at Jake, who's already deep in conversation with Riley about security protocols. Our eyes meet briefly, a current of understanding passing between us before he returns his attention to the events coordinator.
And just like that, our roles shift. The connection that burned so brightly last night—that still hums beneath my skin with every breath—becomes background to the professional personas we must now adopt.
The check-in process is swift and efficient, with Patty handling most of the details as if I'm a VIP rather than just the maid of honor.
My room, I discover, is on the same floor as the bridal suite, with a view of the mountains that would normally have me pressing my nose to the glass in appreciation.
"Your luggage will be brought up shortly," Patty informs me as she hands over my key card. "Would you like a few minutes to freshen up before I take you to Jordyn?"
After days on the road, I probably should take the opportunity to make myself more presentable. But the anticipation of seeing my best friend after weeks apart outweighs vanity.
"I'm good," I assure her. "Let's not keep the bride waiting."
Patty beams as if I've said something profoundly wise instead of merely expressing eagerness to see my friend. "Wonderful attitude! Follow me, please."
As we walk through the hotel toward the elevators, I can't help but notice the seamless blend of luxury and entertainment.
The casino area glitters invitingly to our left, not overwhelming like Vegas mega-casinos but elegant and intimate.
To our right, a corridor leads to what appears to be a high-end shopping arcade, featuring designer boutiques and jewelry stores.
"The Heirloom Rose is designed to be a complete destination experience," Patty explains, noticing my interest. "Casino, shopping, dining, spa services, wedding facilities, entertainment venues—our guests never need to leave the property if they don't want to."
"It's impressive," I admit. "I had no idea Jordyn and Silas had chosen such an upscale venue."
"Oh, the Kane-McCrae wedding is one of our most significant events this year," Patty confides as we enter an elevator. "Not our largest, but certainly among our most exclusive. The security requirements alone are quite extraordinary."
This piques my interest. "Security requirements?"
"Oh yes. Mr. McCrae has arranged for comprehensive security coverage throughout the event. Word has spread of his fiancée and her family’s newfound wealth, and he refuses to take any chances. Your Mr. Winters has been extremely thorough in his preparations."
"He's not my Mr. Winters," I say automatically, then immediately regret the defensiveness in my tone when Patty gives me a knowing look.
"Of course not," she says, though her expression suggests she's drawn her own conclusions. "In any case, Jordyn and Silas have spared no expense to ensure their special day is perfect."
The elevator doors open onto a luxurious corridor with plush carpeting and elegant wallpaper. Patty leads me to a set of double doors at the end of the hall, knocking briskly before using a master key to open them.
"Special delivery!" she announces cheerfully as we enter.
The bridal suite is sumptuous—a large sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows, elegant furniture, and multiple floral arrangements. But my attention is immediately drawn to the woman who leaps up from the sofa with a squeal of delight.
"TRISH!" Jordyn launches herself at me, enveloping me in a tight hug that nearly knocks me off my feet. "You made it! I was so worried when your flight got canceled!"
I return the hug with equal enthusiasm, realizing how much I've missed my best friend despite our regular phone and text communications. "Wild horses couldn't have kept me away," I assure her. "Or airline mechanical failures, apparently."
Jordyn pulls back to examine me, her dark eyes narrowed with friendly scrutiny. "You look different. Good different. The road trip agrees with you."
There's a knowing quality to her observation that makes me wonder just how transparent my feelings for Jake might be. Before I can respond, Jordyn turns to introduce the other women in the room—her future sisters-in-law and a couple of friends from college who make up the bridal party.
"Ladies, this is Trish, my best friend since freshman year and the reason I haven't completely lost my mind during wedding planning," Jordyn announces. "Trish, these are the women who've been keeping me sane while you were gallivanting across the country with your mysterious driver."
The introductions pass in a blur of names and faces, all of them welcoming but clearly curious about the maid of honor who arrived via cross-country ride share instead of the scheduled flight.
I answer their questions with carefully edited versions of the journey, emphasizing the sights and stops rather than the developing relationship with my driver.
"So, this Jake," Jordyn says when we finally have a moment alone, the others distracted by a debate over shoe choices. "Is he as hot as you implied in your texts?"
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "I did not imply he was hot."
"You called him 'Captain Control' and said he filled out his t-shirt in ways that should be illegal," Jordyn reminds me with a grin. "That's basically a five-alarm fire in Trish-speak."
"Fine, yes, he's attractive," I admit, keeping my voice low. "But it's complicated."
"Complicated how? You like him, he likes you, you spent days alone in a truck together—what's the complication?"
I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. Jake asked me to keep our connection discreet, but Jordyn is my best friend. "He's here, actually," I say finally. "At the hotel."
Jordyn's eyebrows shoot up. "He's staying at the Heirloom Rose? Is he attending the wedding?"
"Not exactly." I bite my lip, then decide honesty is the best approach. "He's your security consultant. Jake Winters?"
Jordyn's eyes widen comically. "Wait, THE Jake Winters? The one Silas hired to handle security? The super-intense ex- military guy who Silas says is the best in the business? THAT'S your ride share driver?"