40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,64
leave and waited several seconds.
Then Heather leaned in close and lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “So what do you think? Was I right?”
He nodded. “Like a Swiss chalet vomited over a Pottery Barn showroom.”
“Exactly.” She glanced around before continuing. “The café donated a bottle of génépy liqueur so I could get Fiona drunk last week and find out what the hell happened to this place. Turns out, the resort owner’s then-wife found out he was cheating a couple years ago. After pretending to forgive him, she asked to be in charge of the latest spa renovation and said she wanted it to be a surprise. He agreed.”
A mistake, that. And not the resort owner’s first or most grievous, clearly.
“The day after the reno ended, she invited him inside the new spa, where she served him divorce papers in an alphorn and told him to go blow himself.” Her brown eyes dancing with glee, Heather kissed her fingertips in homage to that particular choice.
“Ingenious.” He considered the matter further. “But now the spa is essentially one big advertisement for an Alpine ski resort, rather than an island getaway. Wasn’t she sabotaging her own alimony?”
“Airtight prenup. No alimony.”
“Ah.” That explained it.
Heather indulged in a subtle eyeroll. “At our last staff meeting, I tried to suggest a different, less chilly theme for the next renovation, but Fiona’s gotten into the cosplay aspect. Apparently that dirndl is getting her a lot of fraulein-on-fraulein action. LaTanya agreed we should choose another theme, but then she started discussing the northern lights and fjords, and I gave up.”
He gave her a fist-bump. “Keep fighting the good fight.”
“When I manage this place, it’ll be different,” she vowed, her voice firm. “The spa won’t serve raclette and rösti potatoes and Toblerone fondue in the café anymore. Or sell decorative cowbells.”
“You want to manage the spa?” He’d had no idea. Then again, Brendan’s gatherings weren’t always conducive to serious discussions of professional aspirations. More to beer pong, really.
“Not just the spa.” She grinned at him. “I plan to manage the entire resort.”
For that, he gave her another fist-bump. “Nice.”
Then he headed for the booties and eye masks, almost immediately spotting the best option for his purposes. The fluffy white booties, whose microwaveable inserts were filled with various grains, along with thyme and—of course—“natural edelweiss scent,” would cover more of poor Tess’s lower belly than a standard eye mask.
He held the sample pair up to his own belly, considering the surface area issue. After a moment of thought, he repositioned the booties, arranging them like puzzle pieces, with the feet at opposite ends. Better, although he supposed he could always visit the first aid station to see whether it stocked—
“I think you may have misunderstood the purpose of the product.” A familiar, amused voice came from behind him. “Unless you’ve sprouted abdominal growths I didn’t notice during my last visit, those booties go about three feet lower.”
When he swung around, Karolina was standing there in her robe and matching slippers, her blond hair piled into a loose knot on top of her head, her ivory skin glowing from whatever treatment she’d just experienced. Something involving Gruyère cheese, probably.
He didn’t have much time to chat, but he also didn’t intend to treat her like a hindrance or a nuisance or anything but what she was: a woman he liked and with whom he’d once had a casual relationship.
Still, this was a bit of a tricky conversation, given the context. “They’re, uh, not for me.”
At that, her husky laugh rippled through the spa. “Yes, I somehow thought that might be the case.” Her gaze lowered to the booties pressed against his belly, and she gave a little nod of understanding. “If your Tess is dealing with discomfort in that area, those should help. Or if you’d like, when I make a trip to the mainland tomorrow, I can pick up something better.”
It was a kind offer. Surprisingly kind, under the circumstances.
And he liked the sound of your Tess. Maybe more than he should.
“I think the booties will work for now. Thank you for the offer, though.” He tucked an unopened package beneath his arm. Then, upon further thought, added a second package, in hopes of covering more surface area. “When I was on the Tour, we had basic medical supplies around us at all times, including heating pads and cold packs. Now I basically only have bandages and ibuprofen in my apartment. Which is probably a good sign, considering the reason