“Just one,” he said. “The Cygnet room.”
“We’ll take it.”
I handed over my credit card and paid in full, ignoring Celia’s insistent tug on my coat.
“I’ll get the key,” the barman said.
“Are you serious?” she said through her smile as he disappeared. “We can’t stay the night! We’re bound to get busted if they see me in daylight.”
I chuckled. I thought she was going to have a problem with sharing a room, not blowing our cover.
“It will be fine,” I said. “We’ll get someone to pick us up in the morning from the back door. No one will see a thing. I reckon they could smuggle Madonna out of here first thing and no one would be any the wiser.”
“And one room?”
I shrugged. “They only had one room. And the Marriot next door is fully booked.”
The barman came back with our key and pointed us in the direction of the stairs.
“Come on, Mrs. Fox. I’ll carry you over the threshold if you’re lucky.”
Celia squealed as I reached to pick her up, a bloom in her cheeks appearing that was impossible to miss. I relented, stopped trying to pick her up, and followed her up the stairs.
Our room was clean and comfortable—not as big as the Blue Room back at the Manor, but there was plenty of room to lay our heads for a few hours until someone picked up their phone.
“You’re right, this really was our only option,” Celia said, flopping down into the flowery chair behind the door. “I can sleep in the chair.”
The chair?
There was no way I was going to let Celia take the chair. “Take the bed. It’s late. You’ve been working every daylight hour and a lot of the ones in darkness, too.”
“You’ve been working just as hard as me. You paid for the room. And I got us into this mess. Anyway, I’m better suited to the chair. I’m used to flying economy on planes. No doubt, you’re up in first class with your big, fancy beds and cashmere blankets.”
I laughed at her assumption—which wasn’t wrong—and also at the way she was being so prim and proper about our sleeping arrangements. We weren’t strangers and we weren’t in the eighteenth century. We were two adults sharing a bedroom. It wasn’t a big deal if she didn’t want it to be. We’d kissed, her infectious enthusiasm for Christmas was burrowing into my heart, and I’d like to kiss her again in the private warmth of our hotel room. Still, I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
“Well, how about this for a radical idea: We can both take the bed. It’s a big bed—plenty of room for both of us. If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stay on top of the covers. And we can both stay fully clothed. How about that?” I’d be content with option A, but an option B where neither of us were wearing anything and we were on top of the covers, underneath the covers, against the door, and bent over the bath would work too.
She pulled off her hat and toed off her boots. “I had such a lovely time tonight and now everything’s ruined because of my ninety-year-old car.”
“It’s not ruined,” I said, taking a seat on the bed to unlace my shoes. “The bad can’t undo the good like that. Not unless you let it.”
She sighed like she’d just missed a flight or something. “I’m going to pay you back for the room as soon as I get paid at the end of the month. This is all my fault.”
Of all the things she was worried about, it was how to pay for the room? The look in her eyes made me want to fix things so she didn’t feel bad about anything ever again. I’d go and buy her a new car and the bloody hotel if it made her feel better. “I’d be offended if you offered me money.”
“Really?”
“Well, not offended. But I wouldn’t accept it. This is no one’s fault. And we don’t have to let it ruin a fun evening.”
“You had fun?” Her tone brightened and her eyes lit up. “Sebastian, listen to yourself—you enjoyed yourself. At a Christmas market. I just knew that being in Snowsly during the festive season would change your mind about this time of year.”
Didn’t she realize it wasn’t the merriness and good will of the Snowsville Christmas market that had shifted my mood from surly to bordering on cheerful? It was her. “I’m finding it increasingly difficult not to have fun when I’m with you.”
She tilted her head as she gave me a small smile. “What was the funnest bit?”
“Are you fishing for compliments, Celia Sommers?” I scooted around the bed to face her so our knees were touching. “Do you want me to tell you how much I enjoyed kissing you? How I want to kiss you again? How we have plenty of time for lots more kissing?”