Page 11 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“I suppose so,” he agrees gruffly. “I did say I’d play bridge with them this afternoon.”

“Excellent.” Ellis pats Grandfather’s gnarled hand hooked in the crease of his elbow and then turns those pretty blue eyes of his on me. “Morgan, why don’t you go and unpack? John the Maid put your bags back in the room you were in before.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting, really. To be honest, I hadn’t given much thought to the sleeping arrangements, but I can’t help the small pang of disappointment that Ellis and I won’t be sharing a room. Which is ridiculous considering we’ve only known each other for a little over a month and slept together just a couple of times.

Ellis lifts his free wrist and glances at his watch. “I’m going to need to start greeting the new guests soon.” His gaze shifts back to me once more, and he gives me one of his sunny smiles. “I’ll catch up with you a little later?”

I nod, fighting the urge to drag him flush against my body and take his mouth.

“I’m cold,” my grandfather grumbles, pulling me from my thoughts.

I sigh. “That’s because it’s February and you’re wandering around a draughty three-hundred-year-old manor house, half dressed.”

“You’re very judgemental.” He sniffs and leans in to whisper to Ellis. “Gets that from his mother.”

Ellis chuckles and sends me a wink. “I’ll see you later.”

I turn and watch them wander down the corridor. Ellis looks sexy as hell in his suit, from his curly blonde hair to the delicious curve of his ass. However, next to him, hunched over and shuffling along in his carpet slippers, I notice the back of Grandfather’s underpants sag.

Has he lost weight?

I make a mental note to check in with Aggie and see if he’s been eating properly. My head gives another muted throb, and I raise my hand to my face but stop at the last minute when I realise the letter is still in my hand.

Folding it up, I tuck it into the inner pocket of my suit jacket to read later, I head towards my room—or rather, room 419.I don’t have a room, I remind myself. Technically, I don’t live here. I’d agreed to help save the hotel and spend some time with my grandfather, but I’m still not certain I can uproot my entire life and move here permanently.

Despite my promises to Ellis, the quirky hotel staff, and the residents both regular and noncorporeal, I still have commitments. This past week has been hell with back-to-back meetings and zigzagging across multiple states to troubleshoot problems with various hotels. Warren offered to take over and give me some time to figure things out, but I can’t dump everything on him. Besides, it’s harder to let go than I thought it would be.

And despite all of that, I found my mind constantly drawn back to Ellis. I missed him, his infectious enthusiasm for everything, his laugh, that sunny smile of his. The taste of him, the feel of his body beneath mine, the breathy sighs and moans he made when I was buried deep inside him. But most of all, I missed the way he wrapped himself around me in sleep, clinging to me and calming something deep inside me that I didn’t even realise was unsteady.

When I wasn’t spending time mooning over him like a lovesick idiot, I kept churning over the heavy responsibility of trying to save my biological family’s legacy. I’ve been trying to go through all the financials, but it’s all a mess. Years and years of mismanagement and generally ignoring key repairs and maintenance, plus declining bookings, means it’s going to take nothing less than a miracle to save this place, even with me and my brother investing.

Reaching my room, I realise I don’t have a key. I almost turn around to head downstairs, but Ellis did say John the Maid had brought my bags up, which means it’s probably unlocked.

With a twist of the handle, the door opens easily. Once I step into the room, I find the room key on top of the dresser alongside a neat sign that welcomes me to my room and hopes I have a “frightfully good stay.” I roll my eyes a little at that but can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. They really are determined to lean into the whole haunted hotel theme.

Next to the welcome sign is a small cellophane bag tied with curling gift ribbon in black, gold, and teal, the hotel’s signature colours. Inside it are what looks to be three or four handmade chocolate truffles with the initials AD piped in thin, elegant swirls of white chocolate, and I know that Aggie made these.

There’s also a pretty little house plant rather than the freshly cut flowers that grace all of my and Warren’s hotels. I have to hand it to Ellis and the others. Even with the hotel in a state of disrepair and on a shoestring budget, they manage to make the place look and feel warm and inviting.

My gaze falls on the lock once more. It needs to be upgraded to a keycard system, something modern and secure. The place could also use an elevator for better accessibility, not to mention a hundred other repairs and improvements, and all that wouldn’t even begin to tackle the problem of getting new guests through the doors.

Or keeping them, thanks to my deceased ancestors and their merry band of disembodied misfits.

I rake my hands through my hair as my head gives a violent throb. My neck’s aching and my shoulders feel tight. Slipping off my jacket, I hook it over the back of a nearby chair, then remove my shoes and place them neatly by the door. After I draw the curtains, I finally pull back the bedcovers and slide onto the comfortable mattress.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute and wait for this headache to pass, I think to myself…

* * *

I’mgroggy and disorientated as I awake abruptly.

For a moment, I’m not sure what disturbed my sleep. The room is dark, but I can feel a weight on the bed by my legs. Reaching over, I switch the lamp on, flooding the room with a soft glow. My heart jolts when I find a small boy sitting cross-legged on the bed, studying me.

I blink, trying to focus. “Artie?” My brain is still half asleep, although the worst of the headache is gone, so I suppose that’s a blessing. “Do you watch all the hotel guests while they sleep?” I ask the ten-year-old boy.

“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, some of them like to wrestle under the blankets and make strange noises.”

“Oh god.” I wince. “Maybe you should stay out of the bedrooms.”