Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,51

Joseph Connor, and this is my father, Niall.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I said. I offered my freezing cold hand, and it spoke well that neither of them flinched when they shook it.

My rescuer, Joseph, turned to the counter and said, “Elliot, my lad, my new friend is in need of a room.”

“Yes, Mr. Connor.”

Tall and skinny, Elliot had big ears and an even bigger smile. His brown hair fell over his forehead into his eyes, and he tossed his head to move it out of the way. He looked young, early twenties maybe, but his grin was infectious, and I found myself smiling back at him.

A burst of music came from the big room at the far end of the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder at the boisterous party. A woman in a puffy white gown danced by the open door with a man in a tuxedo. Her head was tipped back as she laughed, and he looked at her as if he was the luckiest man in the world. A wedding. That explained my rescuer’s fancy duds. I had a feeling my quest for a room was going to die a quick and painful death right here. Damn.

Elliot tapped at the keys of his computer and said, “We have exactly one room left, but—”

“I’ll take it.” I was so cold. I didn’t care if it was a closet wedged between a noisy kitchen and a smelly bathroom. I was positive I’d sleep through anything, even an all-night wedding reception, if I could just put my weary head down. I handed Elliot my credit card.

“Brilliant.” He began to tap on his computer, and I turned to watch the reception in progress. The music and laughter were pouring out unrestrained, and I found myself tapping my toe to the lively beat. I glanced at my phone and noted that it was Thursday. What an odd day for a wedding. I wondered if that was an Irish thing, to have the wedding midweek.

“You’re all set,” Elliot said. “We do have room service, but the kitchen is a bit busy at the moment. I’d be happy to have them send a tea tray up to you as soon as possible. It may just take a bit. Your room is on the second floor. Room twenty-two, right above us. To give you fair warning, it’s a bit on the small side.”

Elliot looked at me as if expecting me to complain. I didn’t. I took the keycard and said, “Thank you. You can hold off on the tea tray, though. I think I’ll be all right.”

“Nonsense, you have to eat,” Niall said. The Connors looked at each other.

“How do you feel about cake?” Joseph asked.

“I love cake,” I said.

“Who doesn’t?” Niall asked.

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“We’ll have some sent to your room,” Joseph said. “With a whiskey on the side to warm you up.”

I grinned. There really was no beating Irish hospitality. “That would be grand.”

My new friends returned to the wedding, and I went up the stairs, happy to let Elliot take my car keys and retrieve my bag for me. Letting people help me was always a struggle for me. Control freak! Also, I didn’t like to put people out, okay, and perhaps I felt that no one did things the way I would, meaning the correct way, but I was so tired and sore, I just didn’t care.

Elliot had not exaggerated. The room was tiny, barely more than a closet, really, with just enough space for a twin bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a very small washroom. The lamp was on, so I could see, and the calming blues and greens of the room soothed me. I knew I was going to crash as hard as a bear in hibernation.

Elliot arrived a few minutes after me with my bag and a tray that held a gloriously rich piece of wedding cake, which was the traditional Irish fruitcake, soaked in whiskey and stuffed with sultanas, raisins, and cherries, and slathered in a thick buttercream frosting. It was quite possibly the most decadent dinner I’d ever had, and I was completely here for it.

I thanked him and then maneuvered around my suitcase to put the tray on the small dresser. I settled back on my bed, listening to the sounds of the party below. Every now and again a laugh boomed, but the music was muted to a nice background noise that accompanied the wind and rain that continued to pelt against