Mistletoe and Mr. Right (Moose Springs, Alaska #2) - Sarah Morgenthaler Page 0,151
like these?”
“More for one night than I make in a month.” Taking the towels from her, Quinn offered Zoey a grateful look. “And trust me, it’s not worth it. There’s nothing in here that we don’t have better down in town.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that either.”
Zoey had the feeling Quinn’s secrets were secret to very few, if the last few minutes had proven anything. Still, she nodded in reassurance. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’ll have to unpack their things in a moment. They just arrived and went down for breakfast.”
“This isn’t Killian’s room, is it?” Trying not to touch anything, Zoey edged out of the room and into the open doorway, a backward kind of shuffle with her hands firmly in her pockets.
“Mr. Montgomery? Do you know him?”
“We didn’t meet in Greece last year.”
Quinn blinked, then powered through her confusion with vibrant optimism. “I’ll tell him you’re here, then. Have you been to the Tourist Trap yet? Everyone has to go there when they first get into town. It’s tradition.”
“Oh, I did. And I will never go back. I made an idiot of myself. The owner had to bring me home.”
Quinn’s jaw dropped.
“You? You’re her?” Her. As if Zoey was Moby Dick, an elusive whale of a tourist. “Did Graham Barnett really carry you? Oh, that is so romantic.”
Cringing, Zoey edged half an inch into the hallway. “I don’t really remember.”
“The whole hotel has been talking about it. Poor Grass thought he was going to have to fight Graham.”
“What?”
“Then Hannah got control of the situation. She’s so good at that.”
“Wait, what situation?”
“And all for a burrito. I know Graham is crazy, and not just crazy hot, but seriously. Grass has skills. He trained in jujitsu in Anchorage for a long time. I bet he would have won.”
“Won the…burrito?”
Confusion didn’t begin to cover this.
“Okay, we’re all set! I’ll tell Mr. Montgomery you’re looking for him. Thanks again! Goodbye!”
With a bright smile, Quinn shut the penthouse door on Zoey’s face.
“He doesn’t actually know me—” Zoey started to say through the door, then she sighed. “Okeydokey.”
It took a while to find her way back to the lobby without a hospitality specialist to follow, but eventually, Zoey managed it. The hotel had several stations posted about the lobby with employees just itching to be helpful. Zoey knew where she was going, and she managed to avoid most of them. As she passed a souvenir shop dripping with handcrafted Alaskan-themed jewelry on display, she spied Lana seated at a table by the window with three other people, one of whom Zoey assumed was the secondary Killian whose suite she’d been in without permission.
Everyone at the table was enjoying themselves and their smoked trout, so Zoey scurried past before Lana could notice her. Zoey turned a corner and ran nose-to-name tag into another body, a tall, rawboned young man in his early twenties.
“Hi, my name is Diego” was trying to beam. This one was definitely trying and failing to beam.
“Did you need any help today, ma’am?”
Diego the bellhop might have sounded friendlier if he hadn’t spoken in a monotone, his eyes and voice flat. So close. Freedom and sunshine were within Zoey’s reach, but Diego the bellhop was right in her way.
“Oh, I was just wandering around. There’s supposed to be some hiking trails connected to the resort.”
“Yes.” He stared at her. Zoey stared back. Neither blinked.
Maybe it was the starch. His uniform had an awful lot of starch.
When she sidestepped, Diego the bellhop followed suit, determined to do his job. “On the far side of the grounds, take a left past the miniature golf course. Would you like a complimentary bottle of water and locally sourced organic granola bar to take with you today?”
Why yes. Yes, she would.
Shoving the granola bar at her, Diego continued in his dispassionate voice, “As valued guests of Moose Springs Resort, we encourage our patrons to dispose of all food wrappers in one of our provided bear-proof waste bins. Please refrain from carrying food items on the walking trails.”
He forced his lips to lift away from gritted teeth. “A hungry bear is a grumpy bear.”
“Umm, yes. I’ll eat it on the grounds.”
“Also, if you’d like breakfast before you leave, our head chef is world renowned for her fine dining cuisine. Her specialty is a lightly smoked trout on toast, served with house-made wild berry jam.”
Zoey shuddered and made her escape.
The instant she stepped through the doors of the hotel, the fresh, crisp