Beckett nodded and they stood across from each other, staring until she had to say something. “I’m sorry. About the photo, the comments, all of it. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with… the thing.”
His chin dipped and he stared at her. “‘The thing’?”
Argh. He was going to make her spell it out. “You know. The hug.”
“Well, which was it? A hug or a thing?”
“You’re teasing me.” She pursed her lips together.
Beckett stepped closer. “I am, because there’s nothing to apologize for, Presley. And trust me when I say you’re a wonderful guest. Sweet, accommodating, and an excellent cook.”
With his easygoing tone, her shoulders relaxed to a near melting point. He walked over to the small table in the kitchen, and even though it was a fairly big place, the room felt smaller, more alive, with him in it. Like his cabin, it was an open concept, but quite a bit bigger, with more doors and a set of stairs leading up to a loft.
“It’s fine, Presley. Honestly, Jill is thrilled. She said the phone has been ringing nonstop. We’ve got some of the rooms booked into the end of September. The last two callers asked if this was the Hot Mountain Man Lodge, so I think Gray is considering renaming the place.”
Laughter escaped. “It’s not a bad idea. Definite marketing possibilities.”
“How do your feet feel?”
Like I beat them with jagged hammers and lit them on fire.Sheaverted her gaze, wandered to the worn, plaid couch. “Good. They’re great. Can’t wait to go again.”
“We could do a short after-dinner one,” he suggested.
Her gaze zipped to his. “Funny. No, thanks. So, what’s happening with this cabin?”
Beckett looked around, then back to Presley. “I need to fix the stairs to the loft. There’s room for two up there, with two bedrooms down here and a pullout. Jill pulled all the bedding from every cabin when we took over and washed it all, but some of it was so old it disintegrated. We’ve been working on prepping one room at a time in between guests and all of our schedules. She doesn’t want to give up on the chance to rent this place for a week.”
“It looks like it’s in decent shape.”
He nodded and walked closer to her, making it harder to focus on the conversation.
As surprising as it was, she couldn’t remember being this viscerally attracted to anyone. Ever. But more than that, she liked him. And his family. She was on day two with them and already felt included. The homey, family feel was something sorely lacking in big hotels.
Beckett shoved his hands in his pockets, like he didn’t know where to put them. “It is, structurally. That doesn’t make it fit for guests. Even if I get a deal on furniture, the bedding is pricy. We weren’t ready to outfit an entire cabin yet.” He pointed to the stairs. “I need some wood, but the stairs are an easy fix.” He pointed to the bathroom. “I need a part for the sink and a better showerhead.” Then to the kitchen. “Two of the cupboard doors are cracked, but I have some wood glue, so I think I can fix them, maybe even paint them. It’s not much, but it’s time and money. The fridge and stove are decent, but even with a deposit on this place, it doesn’t cover all we need.”
Ideas swirled in her brain. When she was in Hospitality Management School, she’d entertained the idea of running her own bed-and-breakfast. La Chambre had been her practicum placement and she’d never left, instead slowly working her way up the ladder. Well, up acouple of low rungs. The idea of her own place was always in the back of her mind. She had several notebooks filled with pictures, ideas, recipes, room concepts. They were fun to look through and a great stress release on days when she felt like no one listened to her at work. When she’d opened one this morning, she’d clearly fugue-doodled on the plane, because there were all sorts of little drawings that hadn’t been there before. It was a cheaper version of stress release than a massage.
A creative outlet, since she couldn’t have one at Le Chambre. Even there, she did more than she got credit for, which was why Ms. Twain hadn’t stopped texting. If the hotel, a staff member, or a guest had needs, Presley knew how to meet them. She ended up being a private concierge for many returning guests, which her boss told her was a compliment—but sometimes, it ended up feeling like a punishment.
Beckett sighed heavily beside her, and she could feel his exhaustion.
She didn’t want to cross any lines, but he’d touched her feet, so she figured some boundaries had already been pushed. Besides, she couldn’t say nothing. “Have you guys checked out Your Stay?”
He looked at her. Shadows haunted his gorgeous eyes, making them seem darker. “What?”
Presley smiled. “It’s a wholesale website for everything you could possibly imagine needing at your hotel, inn, or bed-and-breakfast. They have a partner auction site. I spend hours on there. My mother used to say if I spent the same amount of time on dating sites, I’d be married by now.” She shrugged off the itch between her shoulder blades. She knew her parents loved her, but sometimes she wondered if they were proud of her. They’d only met Emmett a couple of times, and she’d been disappointed by their lack of interest in the status of their relationship.Why does it matter? Gives you less to explain now that you’ve broken up.She refocused on Beckett. “But I got a raise out of finding new bedding for an entire floor when the hotel decided to make it the luxury level.”
Beckett’s jaw dropped slightly. She wanted to reach up and wipe the soot from his cheek. Maybe let her hand linger, like he’d done earlier.
“What kind of prices are we talking about?”
She looked around, mentally calculated. “What size are the beds?”
“We’d have to take from the lodge rooms and storage, but we’d do a double in the loft, a double sofa in here, two twins, and a queen.”
“Bet you I could get you bedding for the entire cabin for around a hundred bucks.” If shopping were a sport, she’d be a gold medal champion. When she retired from that, she’d be a sought-after coach, teaching others how to find the best deal. She would be placed in the Shopping on a Budget Hall of Fame. It was her true calling in life, and if she could figure out how to get paid for it, she’d be a bazillionaire.
“No way.” He shook his head.
