Page 160 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

KATIE

E ven though it was moving day and I was entirely packed, my suite still looked the same.

It was eerie.

As I stood there in the middle of my living room looking around at all the stuff I’d come to think of as mine but was really the hotels, I wondered if maybe being forced to move out was actually the best thing for me.

I’d convinced myself that this was my home, but really, it was just an in-between place.

A temporary place. A place I slept and ate and showered but not a place that had ever really been mine because I could never make it mine.

The white marble floors and the luxurious finishes weren’t my style, and it wasn’t in my budget either. The white lion head on the sofa table screamed this cost more money than it’s worth and the plush white rugs under my bed weren’t any better.

If this had been my actual place that I bought and paid for and earned, it would have looked a hell of a lot different.

For starters, it would have color. I would have area rugs in rich blues, greens, and reds.

I would have tapestries and artwork and bright floral arrangements.

I would have things that made me feel joyous inside just from looking at them.

I put my hand on the stack of boxes piled up in the middle of the living room. “Everything happens for a reason, Katie. Don’t stop believing that now.”

The only things in the boxes were my clothes, shoes, and toiletries. I didn’t own any decor or furniture. I didn’t own dishes or anything of the like, either. As the next months unfolded, I’d have to pay attention to investing in the things I needed.

It might be fun.

I’d started fresh once before when I still lived in New York, but I’d sold everything I acquired when I got the job at the El Cartana.

Curse my young dumb foolish self for not planning ahead .

It didn’t matter. I had friends who were in my corner who would get me through this. And I had Peter.

I smiled just thinking about him and checked the time.

He was probably pulling up to the front gates of the hotel this very minute.

He’d offered to come with his truck and help me take the boxes over to Roman and Ginny’s place.

I’d called down for a bellboy to come to my suite with a trolley, and as soon as he arrived, I’d be out of there once and for all.

“There’s no going back now,” I breathed.

The surrealism of the situation didn’t hit me until the bellboy arrived and loaded his gold trolley up with my boxes.

He called me Ms. Smithe and told me they would be down by the valet and ready to be loaded into a vehicle.

I thanked him and stood for one final minute alone in my suite to say farewell to the life I’d known there.

“It was swell while it lasted,” I said before I stepped out the door and pulled it closed behind me. I exhaled, smiled, and turned from my door feeling ready.

I moved through the hotel until I reached the lobby, where I waved good morning to Hop who was busy making drinks for customers. He waved over the espresso machine and I crossed the lobby and pushed out the front doors.

Peter was already there loading my boxes into the bed of his truck.

A few people from the hotel looked at him and watched.

They were probably judging and wondering why such a beat-up old truck was at a glamorous hotel like this, but he didn’t seem to give a damn or even notice.

He straightened after lifting the last box into the bed of the truck and wiped sweat from his brow.

He saw me coming and smiled as he closed the tailgate.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, leaning up against the bumper of the truck and crossing his arms over his chest. “How did it feel to walk out of there?”

“Honestly? Not as bad as I thought it would. I kind of feel ready for whatever comes next.”

“That’s good news.”

“I’m kind of proud of myself,” I admitted.

Peter took me by the shoulders and gave me a kiss. “You should be. Should we get the hell out of here?”

I nodded. “Yes please.”

As always, Peter was a perfect gentleman.

He opened my door for me and held my hand as I stepped up into the cab.

He made sure I was clear of the door before he closed it, walked around the hood, and got behind the wheel.

When he turned the ignition, island music poured through the radio.

He turned the volume down just a bit so we could talk over the sound of a guitar and ukulele playing in the background.

He nodded at the cupholders beside the shifter. “I grabbed coffee. I figured you might have had too crazy of a morning to get yourself one.”

“You are my hero,” I said, plucking one of them from the cupholders. I took a sip of the rich, dark, delicious brew and sighed in appreciation. “I didn’t get around to having a cup this morning. Good call.”

I stared out the window as we drove through the hotel grounds.

The driveway to the front gate was relatively long and I admired the lush greenery with a different perspective than usual.

Now that I wasn’t living there, I wondered if the hotel would start to feel even more glamorous to me. Perhaps in time, it would.

We passed through the gates with the two lion heads and drove down the long winding road in the cliffside. The ocean was calm and still today, and the sun burned low in the cloudless sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“Do you mind if we make a quick pit stop at my place on the way to Ginny and Roman’s?” Peter asked.

I glanced over at him. His attention was fixed on the road. “Yeah, of course. Did you forget something?”

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh?”

He grinned at me and checked his rearview mirror. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Do I get any hints?”

“No, I think you can wait the fifteen minutes to see for yourself.”

I shifted in my seat. “I’ve never been a very patient person, you know?”

“Liar.”

I giggled. He was right. I had patience for days. It was what had made me such a good fit for customer-service work and working with recently married couples at the hotel. Without patience, I’d be on edge all the time and I’d have probably quit my job years ago.

I sipped my coffee for the rest of the drive and wondered what it was Peter wanted to show me. Maybe he’d done a bit more work on the cabin. I knew he’d been spending a lot of time on renovations these past couple of weeks. The work had helped him through the grieving process of losing his father.

I also suspected it made him feel closer to his father, who had also made a living working in construction and renovating homes.

Peter still had the full intention of returning to his work as a programmer once his three months of leave were over but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he started doing a bit of manual labor work on the side.

He seemed to enjoy it. And he was really good at.

The real bonus was how good he looked doing it. There was nothing sexier than a sweat-soaked Peter ripping up floorboards and wiping sweat from his neck with the hem of his shirt, flashing a quick view of his abs.

I could start drooling just thinking about it.

We hit the gravel road that led through the brush toward his cabin.

“Can you tell me now?” I asked.

Peter laughed. “No, you’ll just have to wait another three minutes. You can handle three minutes, can’t you?”

“I’m a woman. Of course I can.”

He laughed harder. “Ouch.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

“I don’t think that makes me feel better.”

I snickered. “Three minutes can feel like a long time when you’re on the hook for something.”

He glanced over at me with a wry smile. “Tell me about it.”