41. Evan

41

Evan

O ne week after I’d asked them all to join me, we sat in the local attorney’s office, making it official. No matter what, these three people and I were gluing ourselves together.

I had no heirs, no one to leave anything to, so I asked the attorney privately to ensure that if anything happened to me, which was a real possibility with my evil ancestor waiting to pounce, my three business partners would inherit the estate. That was the only way that felt fair.

After finishing the cleanup at the bed-and-breakfast, Al, with Cary’s help, began renovating the hotel rooms, starting with those with sprinklers already installed. “Once we are locked in, I’ll invest in getting the rest of the rooms done so we can use them as well,” Al had told me.

I had trained someone to take over as evening host so that I could manage the restaurant as well as the reception desk. The state approved the work done to the rooms, said we could call them to inspect the others when ready, and we were good to go.

It surprised me how easily it came together. I loved running the place. I loved speaking with the guests. Much of what I enjoyed about being a restaurant host applied to working the hotel’s reception desk as well. It was about greeting guests and ensuring they had what they needed for a comfortable stay.

Finally, the world was moving forward. If someone had told me, the broken, lonely, and grieving man who’d come to Oregon months ago, that I’d find happiness here, that I would find connection again, I’d have thought they were lying. I didn’t even think it was possible to be this happy again.

The restaurant remained closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, which made for a much quieter estate overall, although the hotel remained open. I was alarmed when I got a frantic call from Roy, the kid Al allowed me to promote to head of housekeeping and who managed the reception desk for me those two days each week. “We have a guest who says he signed up on the website, but I have no evidence of his registration.”

“It’s okay, Roy, I’ll be over to get it sorted. Are there any rooms left?” I asked.

“Yes, the suite, but it’s reserved for the coming weekend.” Rory asked for the man’s name again and I heard a voice in the background that sounded familiar. I held my breath, sure it couldn’t be him. “Mr. Owens said he booked his reservation for the entire week.”

Mr. Owens… Andy. My piss-poor ex-boyfriend.

“Go ahead and book him in the suite until the weekend, make sure he understands the upgrade costs, and let him know I’ll be over in a bit,” I said, and hung up. I immediately went downstairs to find Cary. If Andy really was here, I’d prefer to have Cary with me if I had to face him.

Unfortunately, the cottage was empty. Cary liked to go to the river to fish for salmon, and I knew he planned to do that today, but I’d slept late, enjoying my day off, and hadn’t heard him leave.

Fucking Andy Owens. I knew the asshole too well. He’d played the I registered online con when I’d been with him on multiple occasions. He’d get no courtesy discounts from me, though. He’d pay full cost for the suite, and even that was being more generous than he’d ever been to me.

My dander only got up more and more as I showered and shaved. I hated that I cared. Hated that Andy still had any influence over me, but damn, I wanted to look good. Wanted him to see what he’d thrown out like yesterday’s garbage.

By the time I reached the manor, I’d worked up a full steam. I walked in and immediately felt it. It was almost as if someone had dimmed the lights. A darkness hung over the place, and everything felt wrong. I looked around, making sure I wouldn’t be attacked, and saw Roy, who appeared to be completely beside himself. I headed his way.

“You okay?” I asked quietly, and he shook his head.

“No, I think I messed up. I-I think I might’ve somehow screwed up our system. I’m so sorry.”

I put my hand up and sighed. “Is the guest Andy Owens? About six foot, scars on his face, dark hair slightly gray on the sides?” Roy’s eyes grew big, and he nodded. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. “And is he the one who said you screwed up?” Roy nodded. “You didn’t. That’s just how he gets hotels to give him free shit. I’ll handle it.”

I sent Roy for a break and called up to the suite. When the smug bastard answered, I asked, “Why are you here, Andy?”

“Well, is that how you treat your guests?” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his tone.

“You aren’t a guest, and I don’t appreciate you harassing my employees. You and I both know you didn’t have a reservation. But your money’s as good as anyone’s. You can stay, but only until the weekend, and you’ll pay full price.”

“Now wait a moment,” he said, but I just hung up. I’d spent way too much time dealing with that man and his entitled bullshit. He came here to create chaos, and he’d already succeeded. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making a scene by kicking him out, nor would I let him walk over me or my staff. If I was lucky, the idea of his having to pay full price for the room would be enough to get him to leave on his own.

Damn, why the hell had he come here anyway?