“Wait. Wait. Wait.” She held up her hand, palm out. “Are you trying to tell me the whole town thinks we’re involved?”
“Well, I don’t know if the whole town knows yet, but I’d say by noon tomorrow most everyone will have heard the news.”
“Everyone?” Her voice went high and thin at the end of the word. She heard it. There’s no way he’d miss it. So much for the calming powers of ashwagandha. Based on the way her chest tightened, she’d wasted thirty bucks on over-the-counter stress relief.
He put his glass down on the table and turned a wary look on her. “You said you were okay with the cover story. So, two people or two thousand shouldn’t matter. What’s the problem?”
The problem? “The problem is…I…I…” She folded her arms across her chest while all her fantasies of going wild in Captivity popped just like bubbles in the champagne. Pride and a shred of professionalism prevented her from confessing. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. There’s no problem.”
He studied her in a way that made her heart stumble like a clumsy sprinter. “Tell me the problem. You can trust me.”
No. Just no. This conversation needed to be over. She got up and walked to the window, stared out at a whole lot of white. Someone had given the snow globe known as Captivity, Alaska a hearty shake. “Jeez, it’s really coming down out there.”
Trace moved to stand beside her and look out at the curtain of snow falling beyond the glass. “That’s why they call it a blizzard.”
“I’ve never seen so much snow in my entire life. How much are they calling for?”
“A few feet.”
“What?” She pressed a hand to the glass. “As in, at least twenty-four inches?”
He tipped his head, considering. “The drifts will get a lot deeper.”
She looked over at him. “How far away is your house? Are you going to be able to drive home?”
He shook his head. “No. Plows can’t keep up with this. The roads won’t be safe until sometime tomorrow. But I keep a go-bag in the Yukon. I’ll just get a room, and… Oh. Shit.” Now his eyes sought hers.
“That would look weird, wouldn’t it? How long would news like we didn’t share a room take to circulate?”
“Not long,” he admitted. “Sorry. I didn’t think this part through. If I brought you here, stuck around long enough for us to”—he raised a brow and gestured at the champagne for two set out on the table—“and then headed home with Key, that probably wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows since I share a house with my younger sister, Bridget. I wouldn’t spring a surprise guest on her, especially not my hot and heavy girlfriend she’s never met. But for us both to stay at the inn and not share a room? That might cause some speculation about the overall, ah, health of our relationship.”
Raising speculation amongst the locals about her true purpose for being in Captivity contravened her goal of bringing this deal to a quick, clean close. The sooner she accomplished that goal, the sooner she could return to L.A. to order new business cards. Some that bore the title “partner” under her name.
She savored that vision for a moment. First person in her family to graduate from college. First to attain a secondary degree. First to embark on a professional career. And last but certainly not least? First to ascend to the upper echelon of said career.
Nope, she did not want to cause any unnecessary ripples during her time in Captivity. “It’s a big suite. We can share for a night.”
He thought about her offer for a second, then nodded. “That would probably be the simplest solution, but only if you’re sure you’re okay with it.”
“I’m sure. I can sleep on the sofa.” She wandered over and ran her hand along the smooth, espresso-colored leather. “It’s plenty big for me, and—”
“No. I backed us into this corner. I’ll take the sofa.”
“That’s silly. You’re too big to be comfortable sleeping there.”
“Still—”
“Trace.” She sat, then stretched out over the cushions to demonstrate how sufficient it was for her smaller frame. “I have a couch in my office at least a foot shorter than this. I don’t even want to tell you how many nights I’ve snuck a few hours of sleep in on it when I’ve been in the thick of a project.”
He simply stared at her for a long moment, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, we’ll figure out the sleeping situation later. I’m going to go down to the garage and get my bag, probably stop on the way and check on Key. Make sure he’s good for the night. Are you hungry? I can put in a room service order while I’m downstairs or pick up some burgers to-go from The Tipsy Goose—the bar and grill attached to the hotel.”
Food had kind of slipped off her radar during their death-defying flight to Captivity. Even now, the thought of dinner didn’t wake an appetite. “Either one.” She sat up and retrieved her shoes. “Whichever you prefer. I’m not picky.”
He shrugged. “Burgers, then.”
She carried her shoes and coat with her as she crossed the room toward the hallway leading to the closets. “Do you want me to go with you? I only need a couple minutes to change into something more comfortable.”
“Nah. I’ve got this. Just tell me what you’d like.”
“’Kay. I’ll have a burger, medium—a true medium, not too pink in the center—but only if the beef is at least 85 percent lean.” She deposited her pumps in a closet cubby and padded into the bathroom to wash her hands. “If not, then grill it ’til it’s well done. No bun. No cheese. Just lettuce and tomato. Hold the pickle, hold the onion, hold the mayo, ketchup and any other condiments they usually slather on. Dijon mustard on the side, if they have it. Otherwise, nothing, and—”
“Nothing at all, or no mustard?”
“No mustard.” She wandered back into the main room in time to catch him wearing a dazed expression. “Do you want me to write this down?”
“No, ‘Not Picky,’ I think I got it.” His lips lifted in the crooked grin. “One burger, take all the fun out of it.”
Fun was subjective. Trying to sleep with a belly full of grease and acid too often proved un-fun for her, especially considering sleep tended to elude her under the best of circumstances. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Maybe that came out a little chillier than she intended because his grin faded. “Of course not.” He sank his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and blew out a breath. “Thanks for being so understanding about, well, everything.”