Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

Cory

My workout yesterday evening was exactly what I needed. I'd gone up to my rooms in the penthouse, relaxed yet energized. After a quick dinner, I fell asleep reading, only to wake up a few hours later, worrying about the recent break-ins.

After tossing and turning, I'd gotten out of bed at five AM, deciding the best way to start the day would be a run on the treadmill. It wasn't like I was really sleeping anyway. What the hell was I gonna do? I'd called the police the first time, but there'd been nothing for them to investigate since there hadn't been an actual robbery. So what? Was I supposed to just wait around until it escalated?

I'd worked up a good sweat when another person walked in. A lot of our guests were businesspeople traveling for work, so they'd work out early, but I usually had the place to myself until at least six AM. Dressed in gray sweats and a plain black t-shirt, the man headed for the treadmill next to me.

Sighing, I pasted my brightest smile on my face. "Good morning."

He stopped, stared at my face for a moment, and then smiled. "Cory Letterman?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"Bosley. Bosley Taylor."

"Well, Mr. Taylor, I'm assuming you saw my picture in the brochure, huh?" I chuckled ruefully. "I promise, that wasn't my idea. Harlow, one of my employees, recommended adding that page when we updated six months ago."

What I wasn't going to tell this perfect stranger was the About the Owner page used to be at the front and included a picture of me and my husband standing in the front lobby of the hotel. It made me sad every time a new guest checked and asked me where my husband was. Harlow had gently suggested we redo the black book since it hurt my heart every time I had to say that he'd passed away and was a total mood killer for the guests.

"Harlow." Bosley Taylor smiled as he set his workout on the machine. "I met him last night. Good kid."

"Yeah, he really is. I don't know what I'd do without him." That was the understatement of the year.

"And this place…it's pretty fantastic," he said as he began a warm-up. "I've stayed at several boutique hotels, and this is one of the most interesting places I've been."

"Gaudy?" I asked, worried about his answer.

"No way." He laughed, and it was a warm, rich sound. It also rang sincere, which was a nice change. I knew the décor of The Gin Mill was a bit much for some, but once I'd started, I hadn't been able to stop. My hotel was everything I'd dreamed of it being. I appreciated when others enjoyed what I created as much as I did.

"Well, thank you," I said, feeling a little shy under his penetrating gaze. His treadmill was speeding up, so didn't he need to face forward and pay attention? A quick sweep of his body showed how much he worked out, so probably not. This man was in as good a shape as me, and I could run on this machine for an hour with my eyes closed, having a full conversation.

"I heard a discussion between Harlow and Huey," he continued. Apparently, we were chatting. One of the pitfalls of owning the place. I couldn't say that I wasn't on duty yet, and I'd really like another half-hour to myself. "They said you're really into the twenties slang, as well."

"Applesauce," I said, annoyed at my crew for discussing these things in front of customers. He quirked a questioning brow, so I repeated what I'd said in my head and realized he probably needed an explanation. "Sorry, that means darn."

He paused, then burst out laughing. "That's awesome. I love that you really stick to the theme."

I shrugged. There was no way I'd admit half the reason I wanted the speakeasy theme was because I enjoyed the verbiage. I knew how dorky that sounded, but back when my husband, Mac, was alive, I hadn't cared. He'd never laughed at any of my eccentricity and adored my quirks. Fat chance I'd find that in a partner again. Not that I was ready for someone new—I wasn't sure I ever would be—I'd gotten lucky with Mac, and I highly doubted I'd be lucky enough to strike gold twice.

Not that I was ready for someone new—I wasn't sure I ever would be—I'd gotten lucky with Mac, and I highly doubted I'd be lucky enough to strike gold twice.

"They were talking about a fella who stumbled out of the hotel completely zozzled."

I glanced over at him with a grin. "You probably had no idea what they were talking about, huh?"

"I was able to piece it together in context."

"That's good." We both continued running for a few moments, but I felt him glancing at me sporadically. Getting nervous, I contemplated stopping and going to get dressed to face my day, but… "You're up early," I said instead.

"Yeah. I'm meeting up with a friend later who I haven't seen in years. I guess I'm kind of nervous about it, so I thought I'd hit the gym. I'd planned to come down last night, but I was tired from traveling."

So he'd checked in last night, huh? It must have been after I called it a day. "A special friend?" I asked, unsure why that thought depressed me and horrified that I'd been so nosy.

He chuckled. Picking up his pace again. "Not like you're thinking. We've only met once in person at a Daddy-boy weekend. Do you know what that is?"

I did. It didn't seem appropriate to tell him that I'd met my Daddy at such an event. I was the owner of the hotel, after all. "I do."

I felt the heat of his gaze again before he finally said, "Okay, not everybody does. Anyway, he ended up meeting the love of his life, who happens to be one of the best friends of the boy I spent my weekend with."

Again, an uneasy feeling scuttled through my stomach. What the hell was wrong with me? "Oh, so you're here to meet back up with the boy?" I asked, hoping it sounded nonchalant and friendly and not like I'd been sucking on sour pickles, otherwise known as gagging on jealousy.

"Nope. Chip found himself a Daddy about a year ago. He sounds like a great guy, too. But we all met that weekend, and Omar and I remained friends. I travel a lot, so since I was on the East Coast, I thought I'd stop in Takoda and meet him for a meal."

"You're only here for one night?" I asked, a little disappointed. I wouldn't see him again, and I didn't know why I cared. I'd literally just met the man, and we were having a conversation because we were both on the treadmills. No more, no less.

"Two or three days," he said. "I haven't quite decided. My next business arrangement isn't nailed down yet."

"What do you do?" I asked curiously.

"Ah, a little of this, a little of that. Whatever the client needs."

Well, that was vague as hell. "So, you're like a consultant?"

"Exactly," he said. "So how long have you owned the hotel?"

"Almost ten years."

"Are you going to do some kind of big tenth-anniversary celebration?" he asked.

I'd been planning on it until Mac was in a car accident and died shortly after. I wasn't sure my heart would be in it now. Plus, I had this breaking-and-entering shit to deal with. Applesauce . Why couldn't anything ever be easy lately? "Um, I'm not sure."

"You should." I glanced over at him to find him already staring at me with twinkling eyes. "This place is great. I've been in several boutique hotels that barely even touch the supposed theme of the hotel, you know? It's more like they just use it for advertising."

He snorted, then continued, "I went to this one that was garden-themed, and they had flowers in vases scattered throughout the lobby, a couple of plants in the rooms, but the back garden was in shambles. I inquired about it, but the employees all had different answers as to why. Bottom line, those owners had no intention of fixing it up."

Annoyed at hearing that, I said, "Why even bother then? People know when you don't care. If you're going to advertise as a boutique hotel, you need to do it right, or you'll end up ruining it for the rest of us. That really chaps my hide."

Bosley's rich laugh echoed through the room. "You're fun."

Ugh, why was I embarrassing myself? "Sorry, I get a little passionate. This was my dream, and I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to do it, so it matters."

"No, I get it. If you're going to do something, you might as well do it right. And you did, Mr. Letterman."

"Ugh. Mr. Letterman. Did you read that or did you meet Everest?"

"I did. I really liked him."

"Me, too. He's one of my favorite employees. I don't care how hard a day I'm having, it's hard not to feel a little better after chatting with him."

He hummed. "I can assure you he appreciates working here. I think that says a lot about what kind of owner you are."

My face warmed from his approval. I didn't know how badly I'd needed someone to acknowledge that. "I'm glad. Oh, I know you won't be here long, but please, call me Cory."

"And I'm Bosley."

Bosley? I bit back a snort. A man this fine should have a better name than the guy from Charlie's Angels. My treadmill started the warm-down, and my pace slowed.

"Do you usually work out this early in the morning?" he asked.

"God, no. I wasn't sleeping, and I have a lot going on today, so I decided to start here."

"Ah. That makes sense. Harlow mentioned when I was checking in that you were in the gym then, too."

I felt my face warming again. It wasn't against the law to go to the gym so close together, but the way he said it made me think that he knew something was up with me. But how could he? He didn't know me. We'd just met. This was my imagination working overtime. This breaking-and-entering thing really had me rattled.

"Uh yeah. I lifted weights last night, but the treadmills and ellipticals were occupied, so I thought I'd come down nice and early."

"Well, Cory, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thanks for the chat," he said with a smile as my machine came to a stop and I hopped off.

Picking up the towel I left on the floor, I wiped the sweat from my face, wondering if I looked a total mess. Not that it mattered. This was a gym. At this point, Bosley was sweating, too. Again, not that it mattered. He was a guest. No more, no less. "It was nice meeting you, too. Have a good day." I waved awkwardly, then wanted to face-palm. My lack of sleep was obviously affecting me. Maybe I should run back up to my room and take a power nap.

As I walked down the hall connecting the building housing Vigor to the hotel, I realized how nice it had been to have a normal conversation with another man. One who wasn't an employee who got paid to humor me or a customer complaining. For a few moments, Bosley had distracted me from the issues in the hotel. It had been nice. Catching sight of the picture of me and Mac, I averted my gaze. It felt wrong to have enjoyed such a simple interlude so much. It felt even worse that I'd noticed him as a man.