I’ve really caught her off guard with that statement because her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are blinking in some kind of random pattern. Surely, this isn’t the first time she’s been flirted with. Surely, she knows how gorgeous she is.
“So, a room?” I remind her again.
“What? Yes, a room.” She shakes her head a bit. “A room, of course.” She turns to her side and grabs what looks like an old-fashioned ledger before pausing and asking, “Uh, are you sure you want to stay here?”
“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?” I counter.
“No, of course not. I mean, I—we’d love to have you as a guest here. Lord knows we need to fill some rooms,” she rambles nervously. “I just feel like I owe it to you to warn you about what you’re getting yourself into.”
Now, this should be good.
“What exactly am I getting myself into?” I quirk my eyebrow a bit to let her know I’m fine with whatever she wants to get me into. That is what quirking an eyebrow means, right?
“What am I doing?” she mutters, rubbing her forehead forcefully, obviously talking to herself. “Well, for starters, our computers are hit and miss at the moment, so I’ll have to check you in by hand.”
That explains the ledger.
“Not a problem. What else you got?”
She goes serious all of a sudden and swats at my hand, startling me and making me laugh. “Don’t tempt fate like that!” she scolds. “Seriously, we need the business, so I shouldn’t be trying to run you off, but today has been one for the books. I should change the name of this place to Murphy’s Law because whatever can go wrong around here, will.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Carys, but you didn’t scare me off. In fact, I’d love to offer my services and see if I can help with your computers. What do you say?”
I’m not sure why I offered to help with her computers. I’m much handier with power tools but I don’t want to overwhelm her more than she already is.
Carys’ eyes narrow at me and she puts her hands on her hips. “Are you some kind of salesman? Because, if you are, you can get right on out of here. I don’t have the time or money to deal with any more salesmen today.”
I’ve obviously hit a sore spot with her, so I need to make this right.
“No, I’m not a salesman, but I’m very familiar with the hotel industry and feel like I could be of some help around here. I know my appearance doesn’t scream ‘professional’ but I swear I know what I’m doing. Trust me.” I hope my face looks as legitimate as my words are because I want to help her just as much as I want to get to know her.
Finally, she lets out a deep breath and relaxes her stance. “Okay,” she sighs and looks at me long and hard for a moment, not like she’s checking me out again, but like she’s trying to decide if my word is good. Once she comes to her conclusion, she begins again. “I’ll let you stay here, and if you want to take a look at the computers, you can; but if you do, I’m not charging you for your room.”
I start to protest but she holds her hand up to stop me. “That’s the deal. It’s the only way I can pay you for your services.” Her voice goes quiet and even though I’m thrilled she’s accepting my offer, I hate seeing her look so defeated.
“Well, don’t put that in writing just yet because I may not be able to help at all. For all you know, I may make things worse.” I give her a playful smile and after a few moments she returns it, oblivious to the relief coursing through my body as she does.
After filling out the ledger with my personal information, she hands me a key. Like, a real key, with a big, bulky keychain that reads Blue Bayou. I don’t even remember the last time I saw one of these in a hotel. Carys catches me staring at it and jokes, “What can I say? I like antiques.” She smiles and shrugs. “Room 304. Elevator is behind the staircase.”
To say I’m smitten with this woman is the understatement of the year.
Chapter 4
Carys
So far, today is going much better than yesterday. I was able to enjoy my coffee in peace without spilling a drop, and the computers worked long enough for me to check out our departing guests. Granted, I’ve only been up for two hours and could, unknowingly, be facing a horrendous afternoon, but I’m trying to stay positive.
I even had time to brush my hair and put on a little makeup before coming into the hotel, something that did not go unnoticed by Miss Mary, unfortunately. She had the nerve to insinuate I was trying to look more presentable for Maverick, but I argued that I want to look professional for all of our guests, not just him.
She called bullshit, of course. I tried to convince her she was wrong, but we both know she’s right.
How could I not want to make a better impression on him? I was a complete embarrassment yesterday, and yet somehow, he still got a room here. After the catastrophe he witnessed—and my full disclosure—I was sure he’d want to stay as far away as he could, but he seemed...happy, maybe even a little excited. All I know is I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked up the stairs. Let’s just say I was taking inventory of him while he was taking inventory of my hotel.
It seemed like an even trade.
Once he was in his room, I quickly exiled myself to my office for the rest of the day, telling George and Mary not to call me unless the hotel was on fire. I didn’t want to allow for another opportunity to make an ass of myself in front of our resident dreamboat, so I spent the rest of the day sulking while researching hotel marketing trends instead of doing what I really wanted: watching my favorite cooking channel. It’s one of my guilty pleasures, helping me to relax and forget about my troubles for a while.
But today is a new day and I will handle myself in a professional manner, dammit. This, of course, means I need to stop daydreaming of handling Maverick. He’s just too freaking good-looking. And nice. I mean, how dare he be so perfect?
“What time is that young man comin’ in?” George asks, effectively pulling me from my thoughts.
“How should I know? We may not have a lot of guests right now, but I don’t feel it’s my job to keep up with their itineraries. Maverick can come and go as he pleases.” I don’t make eye contact with George because if I did, he’d clearly see the guilt I’m feeling all over my face.
I may have watched Maverick through my office window as he left the hotel yesterday afternoon, and I may have noticed he didn’t come back before I left the office at ten o’clock last night. Not that it matters. This is New Orleans, for crying out loud. Of course he was out all night. That’s what you do here. Still, I feel bad for being such a creeper.
“Maverick? I thought his name was Jules.” His brows furrow and he looks genuinely confused. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up with these new—what’s the word— trendy names nowadays, anyway.” George is so cute when he uses air quotes. As he does, realization strikes me and I smack myself on the forehead.
“Oh!” I exclaim, realizing my mistake and feeling my cheeks heat. “Uh, Jules, the new guy. He starts today and should be here any minute. Sorry, George, I thought you were talking about some guy who checked in yesterday.” The nervous laugh that escapes makes his lips quirk into a small smile.