Millie glanced at the clock. Five-thirty in the afternoon. Her first day working the front desk alone had gone better than she’d expected. She’d even managed to sound confident and perfectly in control when a client had asked her to make dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant. When they’d thanked her afterward, she’d beamed as a bolt of pride had clutched at her chest. She was doing it. Day by day, the shackles fell away from the broken girl, and she started to make tentative steps toward becoming a resolute and fearless woman.

She raised her head, pausing from answering an email query when she heard the clip-clopping of heels. She offered a bright smile, which wasn’t reciprocated. Instead, the woman who’d just arrived slapped her purse on top of the desk and scowled.

“I’ve got a reservation.”

Millie’s stomach shifted uncomfortably at the woman’s glowering expression, but she kept her smile in place. “Welcome to The Miller-Brook. What name is the reservation under, please?”

“Drummond. Mrs.”

“Thank you. One moment, please.”

Entering the name into the computer, she tried not to let her hands shake when the client began tapping her long, bright-red fingernails on top of the desk. So far, everyone she’d come into contact with had been polite and friendly. This was her first potentially awkward customer. You can do this. Stay calm.

She hit return.

No record found.

She tried again. Same response. She entered a couple of different spellings with no luck. The woman’s tapping increased in speed.

“How do you spell your surname, ma’am?”

Mrs. Drummond rolled her eyes. Millie’s knees trembled at the client’s growing impatience. She spelled out her name in a clipped voice. Damn. That’s exactly what Millie had entered the first time. She made another attempt which returned the same result. Panic welled up in her chest. The hotel was fully booked. If the system didn’t have a reservation for Mrs. Drummond, that meant they wouldn’t have a vacant room.

“Do you have your reservation reference, Mrs. Drummond?” Every booking generated a reference on the system. Maybe if she searched by that, the computer would return the correct record.

“For goodness’ sake, girl,” Mrs. Drummond responded, unzipping her purse. “You’ll be wanting me to do your job for you next. I do hope your incompetence doesn’t set an example for the rest of my stay. My personal assistant made this reservation weeks ago.”

Millie swallowed. Her tongue dampened her lips as Mrs. Drummond removed her cell phone. She tapped on it and turned the screen around. “There,” she snapped. “And hurry up about it.”

Millie peered at the screen and immediately recognized the problem. Mrs. Drummond wasn’t staying with them. The taxi driver must have dropped her off at the wrong address, and she hadn’t bothered to check she was at the right hotel.

“Well don’t just stand there gawking, girl. Show me to my room.”

“Is there a problem?”

Millie turned her head to find Cole had arrived home from work. He’d changed out of his cop uniform into an open-necked white shirt and dark jeans. A fluttering set off in her abdomen, like a collection of butterflies flapping their wings inside her midsection.

“It’s fi—”

“Who are you?” Mrs. Drummond cut right across her.

Cole held out his hand. “Cole Brook, ma’am. Co-owner. What seems to be the issue?”

“I was about to—”

“This silly girl can’t find my reservation.”

Millie stiffened her spine, although she kept her expression professional. There was no reservation. “Cole, I’ve got this,” she said, because she damn well did.

“Do you have your reservation number?” Cole said. “I’m sure it’s a computer glitch. Millie is very capable.”

Really? If you thought that then you’d back the hell off and let me deal with the situation.

“I’ve already given it to her,” Mrs. Drummond snapped.

“Okay, let me see what I can do,” Cole said, stepping around the reception desk. “I’m sure we can get this misunderstanding all straightened out in no time.”

Millie lifted her chin, her gaze cutting through Cole. “I was about to explain,” she stated, surprising herself with how calm and collected she sounded, because her insides were at boiling point. And not because of Mrs. Drummond’s rudeness—but because of Cole’s high-handed attitude. She turned her shoulder to the side, half blocking Cole’s view of the client. “Ma’am, you’re not booked in at this hotel. You’re at the Panorama. It’s one block over.”

Mrs. Drummond pressed her lips into a firm line. “What on earth are you talking about, young lady?”

“It’s on your email confirmation. The taxi driver has dropped you at the wrong location.”

Mrs. Drummond lifted her cell phone to eye level and squinted. And then she gave an exasperated sigh. “This city is turning into Hell on Earth.”

She snatched up her purse and grabbed her suitcase, muttering fire and damnation under her breath. She’d half turned away when she paused. “My apologies, young lady.”

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drummond.” And then a slice of inspiration hit her. The woman may be rude, but she reeked of money. “Can I give you one of our business cards? We’d love to have you stay here next time you’re in town.”

Millie held one out to her which Mrs. Drummond took. She slotted it into her jacket pocket. “I think I might just do that.”

As she walked away, Millie smiled triumphantly.

“Well done,” Cole said. “You handled her like a pro.”

Millie waited until she was sure Mrs. Drummond was out of earshot, and then her smile fell. “What the hell was that?” she hissed under her breath.

Cole took a step back, his eyes widening. “What was what?”

“I was managing perfectly well until you showed up and weighed in with your size elevens.”

Cole’s head jerked back as though she’d slapped him. His jaw tightened. “I was only trying to help. She was being pretty aggressive, and I—”

“Hey, Marion,” Millie interjected when her coworker arrived. She didn’t need Marion overhearing an argument between her and Cole. “You’re just in time.” Because if I don’t get out of here, I may just punch my boss.

The two women had a brief handover discussion, then Millie grabbed her purse and, brushing past Cole, she set off for home.

“Wait,” he called out, jogging after her. “I’m sorry, but I just thought—”

Millie drew to a stop and planted her hands on her hips, her anger growing until she had no choice but to let rip before it consumed her. “I don’t care what you thought. You undermined me, made me feel inadequate, when in reality I am more than capable of dealing with a pissed-off client. I don’t need you swooping in and taking over. I’ve had enough of being controlled, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. Oh shit! Cole’s startled expression at her outburst mirrored her own shock. He reached out a hand. She backed away.

“I-I need to go.”

“Don’t. Not like this. I promise I won’t interfere again. Just…just talk to me, please.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I’m sorry, Cole. I can’t.”

She spun on her heel, praying like hell he didn’t follow.

Cole watched in despair as Millie almost sprinted down the street, such was her desperation to get away. Except he wasn’t sure if she was running from him or herself.

He’d handled the situation with the client badly. When he’d walked in from work to find Millie under fire, he should have taken a moment to pause and assess the lay of the land. Instead, he’d butted in and fucked up royally.

Her comment about being controlled confirmed his suspicions about what her life had been like with Tanner. He’d clearly manipulated and disempowered her. And just as she was beginning her journey of rediscovery back to the woman Cole remembered—joyous, tenacious, sparky, confident—he’d made a dumb move. And she’d shut down.

Slick, dickhead. Real slick.

He needed to encourage her, to allow her to take those fledgling steps back to the woman hiding inside desperate to escape, not barrel in and take over. As much as it went against his protective instincts and his need to fix it all, he couldn’t. She had to do this for herself.

But he’d be right there in the shadows, supporting her, ready to step in the moment she called.