The mob pressed forward. No line. No one was even listening to me.
“We need a room,” a man said, his wife at his elbow, his preteen son at a distance looking as if he’d like to melt into the floor. “Two beds.”
“Absolutely,” I said and wiggled the mouse on the computer. The screen buzzed to life. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We do!” someone in the back of the group shouted. They were decked out in Warriors gear. “We reserved last night. One of the cabins by the ice pond. Do you know if Matt will be practicing out there?”
“I do not know my brother’s schedule,” I said with a smile. “And I will get to you in just a second.”
“Sorry to be a pest,” a woman said, standing by the edge of the desk. “We just have a question about the minibar.”
“Yes?” I said.
“Hold on a second,” the guy at the front of the desk said. “I was here first.”
“Actually,” the woman said, “I was. You just shoved past me.”
The preteen boy in the corner nearly exploded with embarrassment.
“There was supposed to be a sewing kit included in the minibar—”
“There is?” I asked. Who put sewing kits in the minibar?
“Do you work here?” the woman asked.
“I do,” I said.
“You’re not very good at it,” said a little voice, and I turned to find a young girl in pigtails peeking at me over the edge of the desk.
“If you would just—”
“Where is Matt now?” someone shouted.
“I do not know my brother’s schedule.”
“Seems like you should,” said the little girl.
“Oh my god,” I said to her. “Do you have a parent here?”
The little girl grinned and jerked her thumb behind her to a man who was…yes, in face paint.
“Is there any place here to get a drink? Like a real drink?” someone else shouted. “And do you think Matt will be there?”
“Where do we get a Christmas tree? Do we pay here?” a woman asked.
“We want to book a sled for tomorrow morning. Do we do that here?”
“All right, everyone,” I said, holding my hands out. “Let’s do this one at a time.”
“Great,” said the man in front. “As long as I’m first.”
“I just need a sewing kit. My button—”
“Excuse me,” a voice said, and despite the noise and irritation I felt the hair on my arms stand up.
Something about that voice…
“Coming through, real quick. Whoopsie.”
I looked out at the sea of people in front of me. There was no way it was her. It was a statistical impossibility. And if I didn’t remember her name, how could I think I would recognize her voice? It was impossible. Completely impossible.
“Pardon me,” the voice said again and I could see the crowd parting. “Aren’t you a sweetheart? If I could just…thank you.”
And there she was, standing in front of me.
“Lexie.” It exploded out of my subconscious where it had been buried for a year. Christ. That was her name. Lexie.
She wore a denim skirt but, like, barely a denim skirt. A denim skirt so short it was underwear and cowboy boots on her feet. Her long legs between the two were bare. Her coat was a short pink trench that couldn’t be keeping her warm at all. Her hair was pulled back into a very bouncy ponytail. Her mouth…I remembered that mouth. I remembered it curled into a smile and open wide as she laughed. I remembered how that mouth tasted.
She was beautiful.
More beautiful even than my memories. Some knot in the back of my head that had been there since last year, let go.
“Lexie,” I said with a wide smile. “You’re here.”
Which for some reason made her scowl at me. She turned to the crowd.
“I’m sorry did someone need a sewing kit?” she asked, and the woman at the edge of the desk lifted her hand.
“Here you go,” Lexie said and pulled from her purse a small blue case. “You can just bring it back to the desk when you’re done with it and we’ll look into the one that should be in your room.”
“Do you have a Band-Aid?” another woman asked. “My new boots gave me a blister—”
“Say no more, honey. I have got you covered. These are the Cadillac of blister bandages. I never leave home without them.” She pulled out a small box of bandages from her purse of miracles and handed it over.
“What else have you got in that purse?” the little girl asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lexie said with a twinkle in her eye, and the irate mob I’d faced down just a few minutes earlier was laughing.
“Any other questions about mini-fridges?” she asked.
“We just needed some bottled water,” someone said. “Our room only had one.”
“Well, that won’t do, will it?” she said. Her perky ponytail bounced as she rounded the desk and pushed me out of the way. “Most hotels have a fridge…there it is.” She opened it and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here you go, honey. Anyone else need a drink?” She looked at the irate man in front of her. “I’m guessing you could use something a little stiffer than water.”