Page 11 of Be Our Ghost (The Duchess Hotel #2)
“No, I didn’t.” Even as he said it, he remembered complaining about all the shit Preston had asked them to do, just to promote the holiday. He’d insisted they make the hotel the most “romance-forward” destination in Victoria.
“You totally did.” Her voice rose in irritation. “You hated mixing all those love-themed drinks, and you said Valentine’s was nothing but a Hallmark holiday.”
“It is a Hallmark holiday.”
He was surprised at how agitated she’d gotten. Why did she care if he had a cynical view of romance? Or was this about those spicy books he’d seen in her room? Did she think he was criticizing her choice of reading material?
“Just so we’re clear,” he said. “I wasn’t implying there’s anything wrong with reading romance novels. If they make you happy, then I’m glad you enjoy them.”
She glowered at him, her entire body rigid, her hands clenched into tight fists. “I’m not talking about books. I’m talking about real life. About letting yourself be open to romance.”
Where was she going with this? “I didn’t mean all romance is a crock. It’s just not for me.”
“But…” She wiped her eyes. “Don’t you think you’re depriving yourself of happiness?”
Fuck, were those tears? “Charlie…are you crying? What’s wrong?”
She sniffed. “It’s just my allergies. This place is so fucking dusty.”
That, more than anything, told him she was truly upset. Charlie hardly ever swore. She’d once admitted she couldn’t risk getting into the habit, given her customer-facing role at the hotel.
He wished he could tell her the truth. Yes, I once believed in love. How else could I have created a storyline that centered around a tumultuous, opposites-attract romance? But when that princess shattered my heart, I never wanted to go through that again.
After a minute of awkward silence, she spoke up. “Sorry for getting upset. I…just hate that you’re denying yourself a chance for a happy ending.”
“Even though you haven’t gotten yours? No offense, but Randolph didn’t sound like a knight in shining armor. More like the evil Fae King that Princess Elodie ended up with.”
That made her laugh. “I couldn’t stand him. The Fae King, I mean. Though Randolph wasn’t much better. But I’m still holding out hope.”
He squeezed her hand, wishing he shared her optimism.
She was looking at him so intently that he got caught up in her gaze.
More than anything, he wanted to kiss her.
To tell her he was willing to open his heart to her, just a little, to see where it led.
With his free hand, he drew his thumb across her cheek and wiped away a stray tear. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For bringing you up here without thinking it through. Here you are, worried about ghosts, and I got you locked in a room where we can’t even call for help.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I…I don’t mind getting locked up with you.”
“No?” He leaned toward her and brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head up and drew nearer until their lips were almost touching. Just a whisper away, so close that he could?—
A sharp click sent prickles along the back of his neck. The key clattered onto the floor.
He pulled away from her and leapt to his feet. “Did you see that?”
“Y…yes. Can you go check on it?”
When he turned the knob, the door opened easily, ushering in a welcome blast of cool air.
“You did it!” Charlie said.
“I don’t think I did anything.” After picking up the key, he examined the door more closely. The wood wasn’t warped or bent. There was nothing to indicate why it had gotten stuck. “But I’m glad we’re not locked in anymore.”
“Me, too. I need a dose of Benadryl, stat. The dust is really getting to me.”
He looked back at her wistfully. If the door hadn’t popped open, he would have kissed her, no doubt about it. But now that they were free, the fleeting spark they’d shared had vanished like a ghost into the night. They left the room together, locking it behind them.
On their way to the elevator, he checked his phone again. Full bars. “My phone’s working. I’m going to text Logan and tell him about the storage room.”
“Good plan.” She let out another sneeze. “I’m heading home. I’ve been here since eight this morning, and I’m wiped.”
Another twinge of guilt tugged at his conscience.
If not for him, she wouldn’t have been stuck inside a scary, dusty storage area, listening to him grumble about his lack of faith in romance.
He wanted to explain why he was such a cynic, but now wasn’t the time.
Not when she was exhausted and battling allergies.
“Okay. I’ll be in tomorrow at three. Thanks for coming with me tonight. ”
“Sure. No problem.”
They rode the elevator down to the parking garage in silence.
He wanted to say something, to bring back the closeness they’d shared, but he was at a loss.
And as she walked to her car, he longed to call her back, to tell her his entire story, to explain why he’d kept his heart locked up tight for so long.
Instead, he just let her walk away.