Chapter 13 Maddie
MADDIE
We’re just finishing up breakfast when Margo waves to me from across the room.
I glance at Jake, but he’s flagging down Anna for another cup of coffee.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say softly, pulling out my chair and hoping he doesn’t ask where I’m going.
I head after Margo, who has already disappeared down the hall that leads back to the lobby.
“Good work,” she tells me curtly when I catch up to her by the front counter.
I look around, but the lobby is empty, with all the guests apparently enjoying the big breakfast, or sleeping in.
“What did you think of the Crêpes Suzette?” she asks, hope flashing in her eyes.
“It was great,” I tell her.
I’ve never actually had Crêpes Suzette before, so I’m hardly one to judge. If my parents didn’t make scrambled eggs, we mostly had cereal for breakfast, nothing fancy.
But I can’t tell Margo that or I’ll lose my broom closet. Her belief in my rarified upbringing is the only thing keeping a roof over my head.
Anyway, the crêpes were sort of like seared pancakes in a sweet orange sauce. And I enjoyed them, even if Bronson almost set us on fire. So I feel good about my answer.
“Excellent,” she says, nodding to herself. “I knew he’d rise to the occasion.”
“I think J—Mr. Stone is having a nice time too,” I tell her. “The breakfast was a good idea.”
She gives me a tight smile, then frowns and glances down at her pocket notebook.
“You have to bring him back tonight by seven,” she tells me. “Tonight is the Christmas Pajama Jamboree.”
I blink at her, trying to imagine it.
“I, uh, don’t know if Mr. Stone has Christmas pajamas,” I venture.
“The jamboree is for the kids,” she says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll have Christmas movies and a pajama parade, stuff like that.”
“Sounds like fun,” I tell her, picturing how much Dylan will love that. “But what is Mr. Stone supposed to—?”
“Excellent,” Margo says, cutting me off. “See you at seven.”
I turn to see that Jake is heading our way.
“You okay?” he practically growls.
I know he’s not upset—he’s just not much of a smiler. But something about his deep voice and ferocious expression make me imagine what would happen if I weren’t okay and it was someone’s fault.
Don’t fantasize about a man fighting over you, my inner angel scolds. You’re better than that.
I shouldn’t be fantasizing about Jake at all. But my imagination has been getting away from me ever since he explained to me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t putting the moves on me last night.
We always want what we can’t have, I remind myself. None of this means anything.
But I’m not really sure that’s right. I got this instant good feeling as he approached just now, like everything’s going to be okay. I barely know the man, but my body and my heart are trying to tell me something.
But whatever it is, I know I can’t listen. I need the job more than I need a silly crush.
“I’m great,” I squeak out. “Margo was just telling me about the wonderful activities they’re having for the kids tonight. I think Dylan would love to come back for it, if you don’t mind.”
“What time?” he asks.
“Seven,” Margo tells him with a smile that is probably meant to be compelling, but just looks smug.
“Okay,” he says, turning to me. “Ready to go?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “Is Dylan still playing with Bobby?”
“He knows it’s time to go as soon as you’re ready,” Jake tells me.
A part of me wants to lie and say I have to go back to my room for something just to buy Dylan a little more time with his new friend.
But Jake might try to follow me, and then he’d discover where I’m really staying and I’d be up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
“Got it,” I say. “Yes, we can go if you have work to do.”
“Always,” he says, winking at me. “Come on.”
I do my best to ignore how the wink makes me feel and glance back at Margo, but she’s fixed on Jake. And she’s wearing a super curious expression that I can’t quite read.
But there’s no time to worry about it because it’s time to get Dylan out of the dining room without freaking out.
“No,” he whines when Jake approaches.
“Hey,” I tell Dylan quickly, crouching so he can see my eyes. “Guess what I just found out?”
“What?” he asks, looking guarded.
“The lodge is having a Christmas Pajama Jamboree tonight,” I tell him. “It’s just for kids, and your dad says we can come back so you can be part of it. Should we ask Bobby’s parents if he can go too?”
“I can go,” Bobby says, his eyes getting all wide. “I am going.”
He and Dylan start cheering and waving their arms in the air and I’m afraid they’re going to knock over the silverware and centerpieces.
“Great,” I say quickly. “We have to leave right now if we want Dylan’s dad to have time to get his work done and bring us back. But we’ll see you tonight, Bobby.”
All of a sudden, Dylan can’t get out of here fast enough. He slides off his chair and takes off for the hallway.
“Well played,” Jake says to me.
He doesn’t make eye contact, but I can see the crooked smile playing on his lips.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
He gestures for me to go first, which is honestly a great idea because I need to stop fixating on his face.
After we bundle up a bit, the three of us head out into the bitterly cold morning and pile into his SUV.
The day at the chalet passes quickly. Dylan and I already have a nice list of things we like to do together and we blast through them all before the morning is over—hide and seek, letter to Santa, nature walk, Froggy’s story.
Then after lunch we go through them all again, taking a little more time and laughing even more than before.
It’s hardly work. Dylan is such a fun companion and he has a truly generous soul. I hope the world is kind to him and he doesn’t lose any of his sweetness.
It’s already dark by the time I realize that Jake hasn’t come out of his office once all day. My phone alarm goes off at six-thirty and I suggest to Dylan that it’s time to go up and have his bath so we can get him decked out in his Christmas pajamas in time for the party.
What if Jake doesn’t come out in time? Or worse, what if he changes his mind?
But it does no good to worry about it. Maybe Jake will just let me walk Dylan down there on my own.
At ten minutes before seven, Dylan looks adorable in his red pajamas with tiny Santa faces all over them, and he’s practically squirming by the door to his dad’s office.
“Ready to go?” Jake asks as he comes out.
Somehow, after working all day, he looks even hotter than before. His hair is a little ruffled and he’s got the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up a little, showing off his muscular forearms.
“Yes,” Dylan squeaks. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Definitely,” I add, trying to keep my eyes on his face and off his muscles. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” Jake says, a bemused expression on his face. “Yours?”
“It was great,” Dylan says before I can answer.
Then he’s galloping for the front door and the three of us focus on getting bundled up again and heading out.
We make it down the mountain while Dylan regales his dad with a list of everything we did today. When we get to the lodge, Dylan grabs my hand and then his dad’s before marching for the lodge steps.
It reminds me of arriving here with my own parents, and I find myself blinking back some unexpected tears. I’m grateful that it’s dark out so that no one will notice.
But Jake eyes me carefully as he opens the door to the lodge.
“Bobby,” Dylan yells, running for his friend, who is wearing green pajamas with little red dogs on them and playing with his dinosaurs in the little Christmas village display.
I’m pretty sure the kids aren’t supposed to play in that display, but I’m not going to get involved. Margo will have my head for stopping Jake’s son from doing whatever he wants.
“Miss Foster,” Margo cries, appearing as if I’d summoned her with my thoughts. “Mr. Stone, it’s so good to see you. We have a lovely relaxing activity for you. Follow me, please.”
“I just want to get him settled first,” Jake says, heading back to Dylan and crouching down to talk to him.
“What activity?” I ask Margo suspiciously.
She pulls me back toward the counter, away from the hustle and bustle at the center of the lobby with Bobby’s family, Penelope and her cameraman, and the older couple I learned earlier are called the Applebaums.
“I see how he looks at you,” Margo purrs. “Heaven knows why, but he’s into you and we’re going to use that to our advantage.”
I stare at her in disbelief.
“The two of you will enjoy a bottle of champagne in the hot tub,” she tells me, looking at me like she thinks I’ll be delighted at this turn of affairs.
“You can’t be suggesting that you want me to—” I begin.
“Of course not,” she says, cutting me off. “Unless you want to?”
“I don’t,” I tell her firmly, even though I kind of do.
“Not a problem,” she tells me. “You’re just relaxing and talking. And maybe giving him something to dream about later.”
I try to come up with some reason this can’t happen, but I’m too stunned to think of anything.
Does this woman have no shame?
“I… I don’t have a swimsuit,” I suddenly remember, feeling deeply relieved. She can’t expect me to get in there without a suit.
“There are brand-new suits and fluffy towels set out for both of you in the changing room,” Margo tells me smugly.
“Do you even know my size?” I ask.
“I made a guess,” she says, shrugging. “It’ll fit.”
I can’t think of any more arguments.
“What’s up?” Jake asks as he comes to join me.
“We reserved the hot tub for you,” Margo says brightly. “We know you work hard all day, and Maddie has been looking after Dylan. Now it’s your turn to relax while we keep the little fellow busy. We’ve got suits and towels for you back in the changing rooms.”
I glance back over my shoulder to the lobby, where Anna is blowing up red and green balloons. The boys are in heaven. Even Dylan can’t save me from my fate.
“Perfect,” Jake says.
There’s nothing to do now but follow Margo.
It’s only a hot tub. How bad could it be?
After all, he said it himself—there’s nothing going on with us, nothing at all.
Those words comfort me as we trail after Margo, out to the doors at the back of the hotel and onto the lawn.
“The hot tub has a lovely view of the trees,” Margo tells Jake over her shoulder as she walks.
It’s cold enough out here that we’re all shivering, but it’s no time at all until we’re up on the pavilion and Margo is fussing around the hot tub.
Steam rises from the water and suddenly I can’t get in there fast enough.
Margo points me toward the women’s changing room and I scurry in.
But when I spot my swimsuit laid out over a fluffy towel on one of the benches I stop in my tracks.
Oh, no…