Chapter 20
Lauren wadded up her pair of Christmas pajamas and stuffed them, along with Pumpkin’s food bowl, into her carry-on.
She glanced at the bed, where Pumpkin’s low-pitched snore rumbled against a pillow.
Lauren grinned. It was obvious her girl was in no hurry to venture back out into the freezing weather.
She scanned the room one last time to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Her gaze fell on the note she had written before falling asleep. It lay on the desk, written on hotel stationery and tucked inside an envelope addressed simply:
Mike
Lauren hadn’t sealed it. She’d left it open so she could reread it in the morning in case she wanted to change anything. She unfolded the letter.
Dear Mike,
I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for Pumpkin and me yesterday. Without your help, I might have lost her. I can’t bear to think about that.
The airline booked me on an early flight, so, if I don’t run into you again, I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas. I hope your travels are without delay.
Her eyes hovered over the signature.
She had rewritten that part twice—changing Sincerely to Warmly, then finally settling on a simple smiley face beneath which she had written:
Lauren & Pumpkin, followed by her cell phone number and email address.
A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. She reached for the pen again and added a postscript.
P.S. I hope that sweet golden retriever stays with you and becomes your new buddy.
She folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope. Then her head snapped up. What if there was a better way to thank him? She glanced at the clock. She needed to be on the airport shuttle departing in thirty minutes. There was enough time.
Lauren quietly removed her wallet from her carry-on, grabbed her room key, and slipped on her shoes. Before stepping into the hallway, she hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of her door. With any luck, she’d be back before Pumpkin stirred.
Lauren jogged down the corridor to the lobby. One of the double doors that led into the gift shop gaped open. A lone clerk was surveying the disheveled displays and making notes on a clipboard. Lauren stepped inside.
“I’m sorry,” the clerk said. “We’re not open yet.”
Lauren didn’t slow. She headed straight for the Christmas pajama display. “The only thing I need is this,” she said, lifting the extra-large dog pajamas that matched the ones she and Mike had purchased the night before. They were the same ridiculous, joyfully over-the-top red flannel.
“My register isn’t open,” the clerk said.
“Can I pay for it at the front desk when I check out?” Lauren asked. “I’m leaving on the next shuttle, and I really need these.”
The woman’s gaze flicked from Lauren to the pajamas and back again.
“They’ll make someone’s Christmas,” Lauren added, unable to stop the hopeful thought from slipping through.
The clerk hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. That’ll be fine.”
“Would you like me to bring you the receipt afterward?” Lauren asked. “To prove I paid for them?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “Do you need a bag?”
“Yes, please.”
“Under the register. Take whatever size bag you want.”
Lauren thanked her and hurried to the front desk. No one was in line to check out. Within five minutes, her bill was settled, and she was headed to her room.
Pumpkin was still asleep when Lauren returned. She placed the new dog pajamas into the bag from the shop, then picked up the envelope addressed to Mike. After a moment’s thought, she added a few more words to the front:
+ Pumpkin’s friend
She stared at it. For a fleeting second, she considered reopening the letter yet again and revising her note. She stopped herself. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know this man.
Lauren slipped the envelope into the bag with the pajamas. She would leave it at Mike’s door on their way out. She crossed to the bed and roused her sleeping puppy. “Rise and shine, sweet girl,” she whispered.
Pumpkin blinked up at her, tail thumping lazily against the pillow.
Lauren slipped her into her tiny pair of red dog pajamas. Pumpkin waited as Lauren smoothed the fabric into place.
“There,” Lauren said. “Let’s go spread a little Christmas cheer.” Together, they stepped into the hallway.
Mike switched off the hairdryer and pressed his hand against the leg of his jeans, hanging from the hook on the back of the bathroom door.
They were still damp. The coffee spill from the evening before hadn’t dried, and he’d spent the last twenty minutes attempting to rectify that with the hairdryer.
The complimentary ironing board and iron were nowhere to be found.
He checked his watch. 7:25 a.m. He didn’t want to risk missing her. This would have to do. He stepped into the jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. He’d been awake for hours, lying in bed, replaying every moment with Lauren and chastising himself for not asking for her phone number.
He’d finally settled on a plan. He’d return Pumpkin’s bowl and give Lauren a note with his name and phone number.
He knew her room was somewhere down the hall on the opposite side, but he didn’t know which one was hers. Stalking her in the corridor seemed creepy. He’d decided to stake out the lobby with the bowl in hand. It wasn’t elegant, but it was something.
He’d hung the Do Not Disturb sign on his door when he’d taken in the stray.
With luck, the new golden companion inside wouldn’t protest being left alone for a short while.
The pup had already eaten the remainder of the kibble Lauren had provided.
They’d slipped out the patio door at dawn for a quick trip to the pet relief area.
The dog now sat at Mike’s feet, tracking his every movement.
Mike dropped to one knee and placed his hands on the pooch’s broad shoulders. “You’ve got those expressive golden retriever eyebrows, don’t you, buddy?” he said. “You notice everything.”
The pup blinked.
“And you’re worried.”
Those golden brows lifted slightly.
“Do you remember your friend Pumpkin? And her mom? The easy-on-the-eyes brunette who lent us this bowl and gave us kibble?”
The stray studied him.
“I want to return the bowl and say thank you,” Mike continued. “The hotel doesn’t know you’re here, and it’s probably best to keep it that way. I’m going to head to the lobby and see if I can find her. I might be gone a little while. Is that okay?”
The pup looked away, then back at him.
Mike gently cupped the dog’s muzzle and turned his face so they were eye to eye.
“I promise I won’t leave you,” he said. “Not unless we find your owner. And if we do, I promise I’ll make sure you get home.”
The stray leaned into his hands.
Mike kissed the top of his head and stood.
“Wish me luck,” he murmured. “And keep quiet in here, okay, buddy?”
The dog lowered himself to the floor and rested his muzzle on his paws.
Mike opened the door to the corridor. A crumpled carrier bag bearing the hotel’s logo lay on the carpet just outside. It looked as if someone had dropped it in a hurry. Mike bent and picked it up. Inside was a pair of red dog pajamas.
Mike’s grin spread like butter on hot toast. He studied the floor of the hallway. There wasn’t a note. But he didn’t need one. He stepped back into the room, holding up the pajamas. The dog hadn’t moved.
“I think somebody’s got an admirer,” Mike said, lifting the flannel garment like a trophy.
The dog lifted his eyes but left his chin on his paws.
“I slept in mine last night,” Mike added.
“They’re surprisingly comfortable.” He tossed the bag onto the desk and stepped into the hallway again, closing the door behind him.
He paused two doors down, listening. No barking, scratching, or whining emanated from his room.
This dog was a champ. Satisfied, he headed toward the lobby at a brisk pace.
Now, more than ever, he needed to find Lauren.