Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Sunny
So, here’s the thing: I didn’t expect to run into him again.
Like, at all.
I mean, we barely know each other. I certainly didn’t expect him to be standing across from me in a conference room. A corporate Viking in a suit that costs more than my entire wardrobe.
But there he is. Ryder Hale.
The silver fox from the bar last night.
The one whose name I didn’t even get.
And now, surprise, surprise: he’s also the CFO of the hotel I just inherited. How lucky am I?
Not. At all.
I do my best not to look at him, not to feel the flush creeping up my neck as I pretend to study the financial reports in front of me.
I mean, I can’t make heads or tails of them anyway. Who decided to make spreadsheets the size of novels?
“So,” I say, standing up from the chair and gathering my things. “This was productive, I guess?”
Ryder looks up from the papers in front of him, his expression still carefully neutral. But his gaze lingers on me for a second longer than necessary, and I feel a flicker of that tension again.
The kind that doesn’t belong in an office but seems to keep sneaking its way in anyway.
“Is there anything else you need?” His CFO mask is firmly in place.
I try to shake it off, but it’s harder than I expected. This is just weird.
“Not right now,” I say, taking a slow breath. “I’ll, uh, think about the plan. We can discuss more later. After I’ve had a chance to process everything.”
He gives a single nod, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “Take your time. Just let me know what you decide.”
“Right,” I say, smoothing my dress down as I make my way toward the door. “Thanks, Ryder.”
The words feel stiff in my mouth. They don’t quite match the swirl of things I’m feeling.
Before I leave, I glance back at him one last time. There’s a moment, just a brief second, when I see something flicker in his eyes.
Maybe it’s curiosity. Perhaps it’s more. But it’s gone before I can figure it out.
I shake my head as I step out of his office, closing the door behind me.
What the hell was that?
I should be focused on saving the hotel, not whatever that was with Ryder. But every time I try to push it out of my mind, it comes back. His voice, the way he held me last night, the way he looked at me this morning.
And now, I’m walking away from his office, a mess of confusion and heat.
Well, Sunny, get it together. You’ve got a hotel to save. And a whole lot of people are depending on you.
I take a deep breath and try to focus as I step out of Ryder’s office. I might as well be moving through some corporate maze, but instead of paths to success, every turn just leads to more questions, more problems.
I’m the owner of a hotel. A hotel. And the only thing I’ve owned before now is Tinsel, who basically takes care of herself.
I make my way to the lobby, where the comforting scent of cinnamon and pine is a cruel reminder that Christmas is only a few weeks away, and my life is a complete disaster.
The hotel feels enormous, too big for my little shoulders. It’s cold and grand and outdated, and I can tell everyone in here is waiting for me to do something.
The marble floors are dull, chipped in places where guests have worn them down over the years. The chandeliers, though impressive in size, flicker now and then, casting a dim, unsure glow on the faded upholstery.
The carpet by the front desk has more stains than I can count, and I can’t help but think it’s a wonder anyone still comes here.
I don’t even know where to start.
Tinsel is nestled into the crook of my arm, making my walk through the space even more awkward. I can tell she knows I need comfort but is too judgmental to give it.
She gives me a little meow of disapproval as I pass the front desk. And of course, that’s when I spot Dex.
He’s practically floating behind the concierge desk, radiating sarcasm and camp, his fingers already drumming on the counter. He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow when he sees me and flashes a grin that could probably disarm a tank.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the new boss lady,” he says, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “How’s the world of hotel ownership treating you? Have you already found your first ‘project,’ or are you just letting it all fall apart naturally?”
I give him a half smile, grateful for his lightheartedness.
“It’s… going.” I hold up my hands. “You know, the usual. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure you’re just fine,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “After all, this place is falling apart in the most glamorous way possible. You must work with it. The leaks are, like, architectural features at this point.”
I laugh weakly, then glance around. The lobby seems to hum with energy, but there’s something off about it. Some subtle tension I can’t quite place.
Dex leans in a little closer, as if he’s about to share a juicy bit of gossip. “Listen, we’re all here to help you, whatever you need. I know it’s going to be hard, but you can do it.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugs, giving me a wink. “I might not be a miracle worker, but I’ll do what I can.”
His words stick with me as I head out of the lobby, Tinsel’s fluffy tail flicking with disapproval at the odd stillness of the hotel’s atmosphere. She’s used to my small apartment in Three Oaks, but we need to find a way to adjust.
One way or another.
I just need to make a decision, to breathe some new life into this place.
I step into one of the hallways, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet as I walk down a corridor that hasn’t seen a new coat of paint since… maybe ever.
The faded velvet chairs against the wall and the chipped wooden frames around portraits of people I don’t recognize all add to the feeling that this place was once alive, brimming with laughter and conversation.
And now, it’s just quiet.
The silence is so undeniably haunting. I can tell the hotel has memories tucked into every nook and cranny, whispering things I can’t hear yet but feel in my bones. And I can’t help but think there’s still a glimmer of something magical here.
Maybe it’s my imagination. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I really, really want to believe in something good.
I wander into a small, dusty office off the side of the hallway, one I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. The old desk is cluttered with papers and faded files. A few empty teacups sit on the edge of the desk, and I notice a strange collection of holiday ornaments.
As I rummage through the drawers, hoping to find anything useful, my fingers brush against something tucked behind a stack of papers.
It’s an old leather-bound journal.
I pull it out, turning it over in my hands. The pages are yellowed with age, and the scent of old paper and cinnamon lingers. I sit down in one of the chairs and begin flipping through it.
The handwriting is unmistakable.
Aunt Evie’s.
I smile, remembering the few times I’d visited her here. She always had a twinkle in her eye when she spoke about the hotel. It was her gorgeous little world that I loved to visit.
And now, reading her scribbled memos, I’m peeking into a part of this world I didn’t know.
There are quirky notes about the staff, some underlined, some written in random colors. Red, green, and even gold. Some entries are a bit chaotic, like she was getting overwhelmed and just wrote whatever came to mind.
There’s a plan for a Christmas gala, some ideas jotted down for decorating, and then a list of things that, according to Aunt Evie’s notes, were never followed through on.
The more I read, the more my heart stirs. She had grand plans for this place, so many ideas she never got to finish. And then there’s a small note toward the end, in bold letters:
We can do this. This place can shine again.
That’s when it hits me. She left the hotel for me, so I could make it happen.
Right?
Not just fix things. Not just scrape by. But actually, bring this hotel back to life.
The idea seems crazy. The hotel needs a lot of work. I’m a mess. I have no experience. But this could be my chance to do more.
To not just get by with my work, but to put my stamp on the world. To build something more than just a business, but a place that carries on Aunt Evie’s legacy, a place that shines.
She left me the hotel for a reason, and I ache to make her proud.
The thought of it pulls at emotions deep inside me. I might need this more than I even realized.
Before I can get too lost in my thoughts, I hear a quiet voice calling from the hallway.
“Sunny?”
I jump and look up, startled. Standing in the doorway is a tiny woman with white hair, wearing a sparkling sequined dress and carrying a Thermos in one hand. Her eyes twinkle with curiosity, and she’s smiling as if she’s just walked into a party.
“Pearl?” I ask, blinking. She’s the neighbor, I remember. Aunt Evie’s friend. “Oh my goodness, is that you?”
She looks different from the last time I saw her. Yet somehow the same, too.
I have to admit, the familiarity is a relief.
“The one and only.” Pearl winks, stepping inside without an invitation. “You’ve got that look in your eye,” she adds, tilting her head with a knowing smile. “The ‘I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m gonna give it my best shot’ look.”
I laugh nervously, not sure if I should be worried or grateful. “Is it that obvious?”
She nods sagely, sitting across from me without hesitation, her Thermos clinking as she sets it down on the desk.
“Oh, sweetie, trust me. I’ve been here long enough to know that look. You’ve inherited more than just this hotel, you know. You’ve inherited Evie’s legacy. And her dreams. And well, let’s say she wasn’t the kind to back down from anything, not even a crumbling old hotel.”
I swallow hard. “But I don’t know anything about running a hotel. I can barely manage my own life.”
Pearl chuckles softly, suggesting she’s heard this all before. “Honey, that’s the first lesson. You don’t have to know it all. Just know what feels right and what makes you want to keep going. The rest? It’ll fall into place. But you have to want it. You have to believe in this place.”
I look down at the journal again, now feeling different. Like Aunt Evie is watching over me, urging me to go for it.
Pearl leans in a little closer, raising an eyebrow.
“And if you’re going to make this place shine, you might need a little help.
I’ve got plenty of that to offer, but I’ll warn you now, I’m not your average old lady.
” She lets out a wink. “I drink hot toddies at breakfast and wear sequins every day, darling. So if you want to make some magic happen, I’m your gal. ”
I grin, feeling a spark ignite in me. “I think I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Pearl claps her hands together. “Then let’s get to it.”
My stomach rumbles.
I can’t wait to get something to eat.
Today, I’ve been living off snack bags of pretzels and the occasional apple from the front desk, and it’s not been enough.
Tinsel meows at my side, in agreement. She’s probably starving, too, though I suspect she’s mostly annoyed that I’m not giving her any of my snack crumbs.
I make my way toward the lobby bar, distracted by the thought of a proper meal, maybe a salad? Or a sandwich? Anything that doesn’t come in a bag that you can rip open with your teeth.
The lobby is quieter now, with only a few guests milling around, but it gives the feel of walking through a holiday ad.
Then, in my distracted state, hungry, tired, and with the mental image of a turkey sandwich dancing in my head, I do the most graceful thing ever.
I crash right into something… or someone.
“Ow!” I yelp, feeling myself stumble back, arms flailing in a way that I can only describe as completely not graceful.
Of course, it’s him.
Ryder.
His icy blue eyes look at me with barely contained amusement as he steadies me with one hand. “Are you always this clumsy, or is today just special?”
I look up at him, my face flushing with the sudden awareness of everything. I’ve literally just walked straight into the last man I should be running into right now. Why do I keep doing this to myself?
“I’m not clumsy!” I protest, though I’m not sure I’m convincing anyone, least of all myself. “I was distracted by, um, important business.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Important business? At the snack counter?”
I groan internally. “Right. Because snacks are the foundation of any successful enterprise.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, continues holding me steady as if he’s waiting for me to find my balance. Both literally and figuratively.
“Thanks,” I mutter, trying to stand a little taller and less as if I just stumbled out of a slapstick comedy. I straighten my dress, which, of course, is now probably all wrinkled from my crash landing. “I’m not usually this off balance.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? Maybe even a touch of empathy?
Anyway, I don’t have time for that.
I am a business owner, and I need to act like it.
I clear my throat. I can do this. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to be affected by him.
“Well,” I say, gathering up all the courage I can, “just so we’re clear, last night, you… it was a mistake.”
There it is. The words tumble out before I can think twice, and I instantly regret them. But it’s out there now.
I just need to try to ignore the burning in my cheeks.
Ryder blinks once, his jaw tightening imperceptibly, but his face stays cool, as if I’m just another business transaction to him.
“Then don’t make it twice,” he replies, cold as ice.
Well, isn’t that charming?
I want to say more. Fire back. But all that comes to mind is how good he looks when he’s being all distant and professional.
Damn him.
Damn the whole thing.
I try to shake it off, but my feet are already moving before my brain can stop them. I turn on my heel, my heart still pounding.
I’m walking away from him, but all I can think about is the way his eyes lingered on me, the sharpness of his tone, and how it made me feel things.
Ugh.
Tinsel’s tail flicks irritably as I walk off, and I try to pretend it’s the annoyance at Ryder’s coldness that’s making me fume. But deep down, I know it’s more than that.
My face is red, my thoughts a jumbled mess. And as much as I want to be angry at him, a part of me is too damn turned on to make sense of it all.
Stupid hotel. Stupid Ryder.
Stupid me.