Chapter 12 #2
The moment they stepped through the heavy wooden doors, Andrea felt like she'd stepped inside a grand estate, the kind that oozed old money vibes from every square inch.
The lobby soared two stories high, anchored by a massive stone fireplace where flames danced and crackled, casting warm light across the polished timber beams that crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling.
Rich leather furniture in deep burgundy and forest green created intimate seating areas throughout the open lobby space, underneath a collection of wrought iron chandeliers.
To their left, the reception area featured a sleek mahogany desk backed by floor-to-ceiling windows that would have offered stunning mountain views during daylight hours.
Now, the glass reflected the warm amber glow of the interior lighting, creating an intimate, cocoon-like atmosphere.
Swags of evergreen garland draped along the reception counter, little red berries woven in amongst the greenery, but the space was otherwise free of Christmas-themed decorations, which surprised Andrea.
It was understated luxury at its finest, and quite popular, judging by the amount of people milling about.
The floors were a rich dark hardwood, softened by Persian rugs in jewel tones that muffled footsteps and conversations to a comfortable murmur. Somewhere in the distance, Andrea could hear the gentle notes of a piano, likely from the restaurant or bar area.
“It’s beautiful,” Andrea said, her arm looping through Wes’s as they slowly strolled through the elegant space.
“Mr. Thurston!”
Wes turned at the sound of his name, and Andrea followed his gaze to find a woman in a navy pencil skirt, ivory shirt, and matching navy jacket striding toward them, a warm smile on her face. “It’s so good to see you again. How is your evening?”
Wes glanced at the woman’s gold-plated nametag and a look of recognition dawned. “Oh, Wren, it’s good to see you, too.”
“Mr. Hastings told me to be on the lookout for you,” the woman explained, turning her smile in Andrea’s direction as well. “We’ve got your suite all ready. Mr. Hastings has already left for the evening, but he’s had a bottle of champagne sent to the room, on the house.”
“My suite?” Wes looked confused. “No, we’re here for the restaurant. I made a reservation for seven-thirty.”
Wren’s delicate expression crumpled for a moment, a question forming in the subtle lines between her brows.
“Mr. Hastings said you’d called to request a reservation for two.
We had a last-minute cancellation for the Maple Suite—our most romantic accommodation…
” She glanced between them, clearly uncertain how to proceed.
Wes blinked rapidly. “No, no, that’s not—I didn’t—” He turned to Andrea with panic in his eyes. “I meant a dinner reservation. At the restaurant. I—I wasn’t trying to—this isn’t what I—”
Andrea covered her mouth to hide a bubbling peal of laughter.
Wes looked from Andrea to Wren and back again, clearly at a loss. Which only made Andrea giggle more until it came out as a full laugh.
Wes stared at her. “Andrea, I promise this wasn’t my intention. This is only our first date and I don’t have any sort of expectation, or, uh—”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” she said, which only made him turn redder. Then, turning to the young woman, she smiled. “I don’t suppose there’s room for us in the restaurant?”
A fresh swell of panic rose in the woman’s cheeks. “I—I could see about moving everything to our main dining room, but it might take a while to find a space. The suite does have a beautiful dining area, and we’d be happy to bring room service, which comes from the same kitchen.”
“See?” Andrea said, looking at Wes. “That’s basically the same thing. Like a private dining room.”
“You’re sure?” Wes said, his brow furrowed.
“As long as there’s food involved, I’m happy.”
Wes still looked mortified, but it somehow only made him more endearing to Andrea. She placed a hand on his arm and smiled. “Shall we?”
Wren exhaled a grateful smile and handed Andrea an electronic keycard before gesturing toward the nearby bank of elevators, with instructions to go to the fifth floor and make a left turn.
“We don’t have to go upstairs,” Wes said when they were out of earshot of the front desk.
Andrea reached out and pressed her thumb against the UP button. A pair of metal doors slid open and she smiled, retaking Wes’s hand and lacing her fingers with his. “Come on. I’ll bet the view is amazing!”
“See, what did I tell you?” Andrea smiled over her shoulder as Wes came up beside her to admire the view out the suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows.
A nearly full moon cast silvery light across the distant snow-covered peaks, illuminating the mountain ridges’ beauty against the velvet night sky.
Part of her wished they were staying the night and could watch the sunrise over the peaks.
“It’s stunning.” His fingers reached out and brushed hers, and she took his hand.
They stood for a long time, watching the gentle snowfall catch the light from the windows and the distant glow of the village below. The suite felt like their own private castle, suspended above the winter landscape.
Wes stepped away, only long enough to locate the switch for the gas fireplace set into the stone surround. “Should we get this going?” He flicked the gas switch and flames immediately danced to life, casting a warm glow across the sitting area with its plush sofa and coffee table.
“Very cozy.” Andrea followed him across the room to a square table where they found a stack of folios. Wes flipped them open and then extended one toward her when he located the restaurant’s menu.
Andrea snagged it and flipped through, her eyes aglow when she spotted the list of desserts.
Wes chuckled softly. “Are we ordering a soufflé?”
“Maybe! We have all night, after all.”
She wiggled her brows, and Wes’s laughter turned to a low rumble. “I suppose that’s true. I still can’t believe how badly I bungled this.”
“I don’t know, this is kind of better, don’t you think? It’s quiet. Our server won’t be here to pop in and interrupt us when our mouths are full.”
“That’s true! What is with that, anyway? They must have some kind of radar or something.”
They sat along the leather sofa in front of the fire and debated the menu.
When they finally decided—a hard-won choice—Wes called down to the concierge and placed their order, while Andrea opened the complimentary bottle of wine.
They would enjoy a three-course meal, with each course served right to their room, just as if they were downstairs in the restaurant.
“The owner must have been very impressed with your work to give you all this for free,” she remarked as she poured the first glass.
“We do our best,” Wes replied, nodding gratefully as she passed him the glass.
When her own glass was poured, she set the bottle down on the low-profile table and leaned back, settling in against Wes’s side.
It struck her how comfortable the whole thing was.
Maybe it was because so many of their encounters to this point had taken place in her borrowed living room, but snuggling up on the sofa, drinking wine, and watching the fire felt like a long-standing routine they shared, rather than a new experience.
“I imagine you’re used to fancy restaurants and elaborate meals, being a chef in Los Angeles,” Wes said between sips. “This must seem sort of mundane by comparison.”
Andrea smiled up at him and swirled her wine.
“This is far from mundane. But yes, I do wind up going to quite a few restaurants and catered events, especially when a book comes out. But I don’t know, if I had to narrow it down, I’d say the best meal of my life came from this little hole-in-the-wall diner. ”
“Oh yeah?”
Andrea bobbed her head. “Yep. I was at a music festival in California, in the middle of the desert. I used to be a total roadie, you know?”
Wes smiled. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. I’d go all over the place, following my favorite bands, and I always had my headphones on, my CD player turned up to volumes that would make my thirty-six-year-old ears bleed.”
Wes laughed and offered a nod of solidarity.
“I was with some people I met at the beginning of the fest, and we were starving, and most of us were not entirely sober.” She laughed at the memory.
“Anyway, we got in the car and drove, but none of us knew where we were going, and of course this was before cellphones had GPS apps. We ended up at this little diner. I can’t even remember the name.
But it was the best food I’ve ever had.”
“Could have been the alcohol talking, huh?” Wes teased.
“Maybe. But I’ll never forget it.”
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“What was your favorite concert?”
Andrea considered it for a few moments, debating between many of her favorites, and new memories came back to her. “Green Day. But it’s very close. Foo Fighters also put on one hell of a show!”
Wes raised his brows and offered an appreciative smile. “All right. So you’ve got taste.”
She laughed and snuggled in closer to his side.
“You still like going to concerts?” he asked, the fingers of his free hand tracing gentle lines over her shoulder.
“I haven’t been to a concert in at least three years,” Andrea replied, a little sour.
“Life just gets in the way, I guess. All of the songs I used to rock out to are now the ones playing in my AirPods while I pick up Crumpet’s poop on a walk around my gated neighborhood.
” She scoffed, shaking her head. “I don’t know.
I guess I just didn’t see any of this coming. ”
“I get that. Life comes at you fast, as they say. But let me add, I’m very happy to be here now, with you.”
Andrea smiled up at him and slowly their lips met, locking gently as the fire crackled. It was tender and unhurried, but the heat and desire were there, and filled with promise.