I finished quickly and headed back to the main level. I still had to deal with the third task—the kitchen. Which meant I’d likely see Asher.
I walked through the lobby, noting that more fireplaces were lit today than yesterday. The resort was filling up—I’d seen a porter hauling in ski bags earlier, and there was a low hum of activity that hadn’t been there before.
The skis made me think of yesterday. Of Kai and of that kiss.
I still didn’t know what had gotten into me. I didn’t behave that way with men. I didn’t lose control. And this was the most important opportunity of my entire senior year. If I didn’t return from this internship with a glowing report from Mrs. Greer, I wouldn’t be able to graduate on time, let alone get decent job prospects. And even with my scholarship, I couldn’t afford an extra semester at Langley.
So I needed to focus. To stay professional. To stop thinking about how Kai’s hands had felt on my?—
No. Not going there.
In fact, I knew just where to go in order to delay having to go down to the kitchen. Pam at the front desk had told me that the upper part of the lobby was her favorite spot in the entire resort, so I headed toward the grand staircase to check it out. The stairs swept upward in a graceful curve, the banister polished to a mirror shine. At the top was an open loft area—part lounge, part observation deck. Plush seating was arranged in intimate clusters, and a grand piano sat near the windows, its black lacquer gleaming. From up here, you could see everything happening in the lobby below: guests checking in, staff gliding between tasks, the massive Christmas tree sparkling with golden lights.
It was breathtaking. Luxurious in a way that felt almost obscene.
And then I saw him.
Kai.
He was walking toward me, wearing a blue sweater today that made his eyes even more striking. My body reacted before my brain could catch up—pulse quickening, breath hitching. Like he was a magnet and I was made of metal.
I took a step toward him, almost involuntarily. I hadn’t seen him last night after I stormed off. I’d taken refuge in my room all evening. At one point, I’d heard male voices, but I hadn’t seen him or Asher.
And now here he was, striding toward me, looking really good. Why did he have to be so damn gorgeous? Icouldn’t help the involuntary smile that slipped out as he got closer.
He gave me a small, polite smile in return.
And then he veered off and jogged down the stairs to the lobby.
I halted mid-step, staring after him.
He couldn’t even say hello?
I stood there for a moment, frozen between surprise and offense. Maybe he was mad about how I’d ended things yesterday. I had walked out pretty abruptly. But what was I supposed to do—let him call me “baby girl” and pretend I was okay with it?
When he’d said that, it felt like he viewed me as a plaything. He may as well have called me a baby doll, like I was a toy instead of a competent, capable woman about to embark on a prestigious career.
Still, what kind of a man didn’t even say ‘hi’ to the woman he’d been all over the day before? Frustrated, I moved to the window, looking out at the mountains, trying to settle the knot in my chest.
But I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin. The heat of his mouth. The way my body had responded to him. The way we’d fit together, like we were made for each other.
I shook my head and headed back downstairs.
Focus, Zoe.
Near the Christmas tree, an older couple stood looking a bit lost. The man was in his late sixties, silver-haired and wearing an expensive-looking coat. The woman beside him—his wife, presumably—had kind eyes and a patient smile.
I approached them with my best professional warmth. “Good morning. Welcome to The Fraser. Is this your first time with us?”
The man’s face lit up. “It is! We’ve heard wonderful things.”
“Are you the Hartleys?” I’d studied the guest list so long yesterday that I knew who was supposed to arrive each day this week.
“Yes, we are.” Mrs. Hartley seemed pleased that I’d figured out who she was. that kind of thing always made guests feel special.
“You’re going to love it here,” I said. “The skiing is the best in the southeastern United States, of course, but even if you’re not hitting the slopes, there’s plenty to enjoy. The spa is incredible—I just came from there. And the restaurant serves some of the best food I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” the woman said. “We’re not skiers, I’m afraid.”
