Chapter 4

Carys

So far, today is going much better than yesterday. I was able to enjoy my coffee in peace without spilling a drop, and the computers worked long enough for me to check out our departing guests. Granted, I’ve only been up for two hours and could, unknowingly, be facing a horrendous afternoon, but I’m trying to stay positive.

I even had time to brush my hair and put on a little makeup before coming into the hotel, something that did not go unnoticed by Miss Mary, unfortunately. She had the nerve to insinuate I was trying to look more presentable for Maverick, but I argued that I want to look professional for all of our guests, not just him.

She called bullshit, of course. I tried to convince her she was wrong, but we both know she’s right.

How could I not want to make a better impression on him? I was a complete embarrassment yesterday, and yet somehow, he still got a room here. After the catastrophe he witnessed—and my full disclosure—I was sure he’d want to stay as far away as he could, but he seemed...happy, maybe even a little excited. All I know is I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked up the stairs. Let’s just say I was taking inventory of him while he was taking inventory of my hotel.

It seemed like an even trade.

Once he was in his room, I quickly exiled myself to my office for the rest of the day, telling George and Mary not to call me unless the hotel was on fire. I didn’t want to allow for another opportunity to make an ass of myself in front of our resident dreamboat, so I spent the rest of the day sulking while researching hotel marketing trends instead of doing what I really wanted: watching my favorite cooking channel. It’s one of my guilty pleasures, helping me to relax and forget about my troubles for a while.

But today is a new day and I will handle myself in a professional manner, dammit. This, of course, means I need to stop daydreaming of handling Maverick. He’s just too freaking good-looking. And nice. I mean, how dare he be so perfect?

“What time is that young man comin’ in?” George asks, effectively pulling me from my thoughts.

“How should I know? We may not have a lot of guests right now, but I don’t feel it’s my job to keep up with their itineraries. Maverick can come and go as he pleases.” I don’t make eye contact with George because if I did, he’d clearly see the guilt I’m feeling all over my face.

I may have watched Maverick through my office window as he left the hotel yesterday afternoon, and I may have noticed he didn’t come back before I left the office at ten o’clock last night. Not that it matters. This is New Orleans, for crying out loud. Of course he was out all night. That’s what you do here. Still, I feel bad for being such a creeper.

“Maverick? I thought his name was Jules.” His brows furrow and he looks genuinely confused. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up with these new—what’s the word— trendy names nowadays, anyway.” George is so cute when he uses air quotes. As he does, realization strikes me and I smack myself on the forehead.

“Oh!” I exclaim, realizing my mistake and feeling my cheeks heat. “Uh, Jules, the new guy. He starts today and should be here any minute. Sorry, George, I thought you were talking about some guy who checked in yesterday.” The nervous laugh that escapes makes his lips quirk into a small smile.

“Why would I be askin’ about him?” he asks.

“You wouldn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There’s absolutely no reason you’d ask about him or any reason I’d be thinking about him. Which I’m not.”

George doesn’t look convinced, much like Mary this morning. I must be losing my touch. I used to be able to convince them of anything.

“I’m most certainly not thinking about Maverick,” I reiterate.

“Sure, honey. I believe ya,” George replies just as a deep voice asks, “Did I hear my name being mentioned?”

Kill me. Just kill me now.

I watch as Maverick walks down the stairs, graceful as a model down a catwalk. His easy stride is confident, yet not arrogant. He seems like someone who is completely comfortable in his own skin. I envy that quality, seeing as though I’m in a constant state of unbalance these days, always adjusting my course to keep from crashing into something and sinking the boat, so to speak.

I feel a pinch on my arm and turn around to find George giving me a covert “thumbs up” before nodding his head in Maverick’s direction. Narrowing my eyes at him, I mouth the word “stop” then turn to face the dreamboat heading my way.

“Hello, Mr. Kensington. How are you today?” Hopefully, if I ignore his question, he’ll forget he asked it.

The gorgeous bastard smirks at me and I know he’s onto my plan. But still, he plays along, thankfully.

“Please call me Maverick. My father is Mr. Kensington, and I’d rather not be mistaken for him at the moment.”

He must notice the slight intrigue on my face because he adds, “I’m sure he’d tell you the same thing about me if you were to ask.”

Interesting.

There’s a strange vibe in the room and I don’t like it. It makes me feel uncomfortable and when I feel uncomfortable, I do and say stupid things, and I vowed not to do or say stupid things in front of Maverick today, so I need to think of a way to clear the air immediately.

“So, how long are you in town for, Mr. Maverick?” George asks in his own usual lilt that always seems to set people at ease, saving us all with his question.

I blow out an inconspicuous breath and let my shoulders relax while turning my attention to the computer screen in front of me. I desperately want to know more about Maverick, but I don’t want him to know that I want to know, so I’m trying to appear uninterested. Plus, I need to pull up the hotel’s training software for when Jules comes in, which should be any minute now.

Maverick leans against the tall desk George and I are standing behind and geez Louise, he smells so good. I wouldn’t even know how to describe what I’m smelling but it’s enough to make my mouth water—woodsy, clean, manly. It’s a heady combination and I’m struggling to keep my expression neutral. Inwardly, my eyes are practically rolling into the back of my head as I inconspicuously drink him in.

“Not really sure.” He answers George, but I feel his heavy gaze on me. Normally, the attention would make me blush ten shades of red, but since I have the ruse of the computer to keep me occupied, I’m rather enjoying it. “I guess you could say I’m on vacation until further notice. Would you like for me to pay for my stay up front? I can pay a week at a time until I know for certain how long I’ll be here.”

“I told you, if you’re serious about your offer to help with these computers, you’re staying for free. And I hope you were serious because it looks like I need your help.” I push away from the desk and cross my arms. “It’s on the fritz again. It was working just fine this morning, but now I can’t access the program I need. I have someone coming in for training today, so I really need it to work.”

“Do you mind if I step back there and take a look?”

“Be my guest.” I still myself, trying to come off business-like and unaffected. “I’ll check the computer in the office, too.” As I walk past George, he gives me a wicked smile, which I ignore. Walking over to the computer stationed on my grandfather’s old oak desk, I give the mouse a wiggle, and nothing. Everything on the screen is frozen. “This one’s dead, too,” I call out before slumping in my chair, muttering expletives under my breath.

Maverick knocks on the door frame before sticking his head inside the office.

“Come on in,” I tell him, feeling dejected and nearly at my wits end. Nothing freaking works around here anymore and I feel like simultaneously pulling my hair out and crying in the corner, not because it would fix anything, but because it would make me feel better. For like five minutes.

“You okay?” he asks, walking inside the room.

“I don’t even know anymore,” I admit, my frustration getting the better of me. “It’s just always something, you know?”

I watch as he pushes a chair next to mine, then motions toward the computer. “May I?” I nod my approval and scoot back a bit to give him some space to work. He brushes my arm as he slides in closer to the screen, and once again I’m sniffing him like a can of paint. A hint of oak mixed with honey and vanilla hits me hard, reminding me of another man who used to sit in this very chair. Strong, but sweet. My grandpa always smelled like that, often mixed with a little tobacco, not like cigarette smoke, but a delicious cherry scent. He used to love lighting up his pipe in the evenings and sipping a glass of whiskey. The combination would lull me into a comatose state as I’d sit beside him.

The memory makes me smile and without thinking, I take another deep breath and let out a small sigh. When I see Maverick biting down on his bottom lip to suppress a grin, I know he’s onto me, but for some reason, I don’t care.

I can always plead stress-induced insanity, right?

“Can I ask you something?” I ask, taking advantage of the shift in atmosphere. There’s something I’ve been curious about ever since he checked in last night. Call it marketing research.

“Sure.” He’s typing and clicking away on the computer, in some black screen I’ve never seen before, but still glances my way, smiling. Always smiling.

Stupid, perfect teeth. The nerve of this guy.

“What brought you here? To this hotel, I mean.”

He sits back in his chair, looking deep in thought. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he says thoughtfully, giving me another smile, that’s different from the others I’ve received so far. This one is smaller, with a hint of sadness... “Yesterday was a rough one and I needed to leave, get away for a while. I didn’t even know where I was going until I bought my plane ticket. But I’ve been down here many times, so out of habit I went to the hotel I always stay at. The driver dropped me off, I entered the lobby and was immediately recognized and greeted by the manager.” He sighs, thinking for a second before continuing. “As soon as he asked about my father, I turned for the door and didn’t look back. Seeing as how I’m trying to get away for a few days, the last thing I wanted was for him to track me down there. Instead of calling for another Uber, I just started walking and eventually made my way here. When I saw the sign that read Blue Bayou and yet, nothing here is blue, I was intrigued. I mean, not even the front door? It made me curious, so I walked inside and well, you know what happened next.”

“Yep, you let that damn dog in and he knocked me on my ass.”

His loud laughter warms my insides, and I’m mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple moves up and down. I want to make him laugh again just to watch him. He’s fascinating to me.

Maverick wipes his eyes once he’s calmed down and turns to me. “My turn. Why have I not heard of this hotel before? I mean, it’s obviously been around for a long time, so why haven’t I ever seen any ads for it?”

His question instantly turns my warm insides sour and my mood starts slipping back to where it was when he first walked into the office.

“I don’t mean to be rude, I swear,” he starts, obviously aware this is a touchy subject for me. “I told you last night, I’m familiar with the hotel industry and because I’ve visited New Orleans so much in the past, I’m surprised I’ve never heard of or seen this place.”

“Well, since you were honest with me, I’ll return the favor. The answer to your question is simple: I suck at running this hotel. This place is everything to me. I was raised here, and I always knew it’d be mine one of these days, but when the time came, I wasn’t prepared. I never realized how hard it is. Every day is a slap in the face, telling me how much of a failure I am.”

“Carys, you aren’t a failure.”

I don’t know when it happened, but at some point during my confession, Maverick’s chair moved closer to mine, which means his body is closer to mine. Much closer. Too close to be professionally acceptable, in fact, but my own body won’t listen to reason. I’m leaning toward him, just begging for him to touch me. It’s like that magnet-type of attraction you read about in romance novels really exists, but that can’t be.

Can it?

Maverick cups my face with his strong hands, his rough fingertips brushing against the soft skin on my cheeks. It strikes me as odd that someone who claims to be a businessman would have calluses on his fingers, but I don’t allow myself to overthink or ask. Speaking would ruin this moment and I just want to feel more of him.

Before I can, though, I hear the bell above the front door chime, followed by a loud and boisterous “Hey, y’all” alerting me to Jules’ arrival. I’m glad to know he’s punctual, but I would’ve been totally fine with him being late today.

“That would be my new employee.” My voice is barely a whisper, trying like hell not to break the spell we’re under.

Maverick looks up and down, from my eyes to my lips and back again, before sighing and dropping his hands. He clears his throat before asking, “Can I stay in here while you train the new guy?”

“Absolutely. Make yourself at home...or at work or whatever...I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

“I’ll be here,” he says, staring at me intently.

Does he mean something else by that statement, or is it just wishful thinking on my part? He seems so serious and it’s turning me on even more than when he’s being playful.

Get a grip, sister, and get back to work!

I walk out of the office and close the door behind me to find Jules leaning over the counter, checking everything out.

Smiling awkwardly, I walk around the counter to greet him. “Welcome to the Blue Bayou.” I hope he didn’t witness anything between Maverick and me. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this being his first day. I need the help, so I really want this to go well.

His gaze is still on the door I just shut to the office as he leans in conspiratorially. “Girl, who is that fine hunk of man meat hiding back there? Is he yours, or can I call dibs?”

My laughter causes the tension to leave the room. Oh, I think he’s gonna work out just fine.

“Jules, I think you just became my new best friend.”