Not Husband Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 1)

“Are you sure, Robbins?” I asked. “I’m not even sure if they’re open. Are those maintenance workers or guests inside?”

“This is the place, sir,” he replied. He double-checked his GPS. “We passed a sign on the way in.”

“I was hoping that was some kind of vintage novelty,” I lamented under my breath. I’d noticed a sign for Peppertree that looked like it was from some TV show set in the sixties. “Right. Let’s hope the rest of this place is more impressive.”

My driver stepped from the car and opened the door for me. I climbed out and stood up, my full 6’5” frame stretching as I took in a deep breath of the crisp Colorado air. The bite of winter cold stung me, but after the long drive, it was welcome.

We stood by the car, peering toward the door and waiting for a bellhop or valet to welcome us, but after a minute, no one came. I checked my watch and raised an eyebrow at my driver. He was starting to look embarrassed, and he wasn’t even on this resort’s staff.

“I have a feeling we’re on our own, Robbins,” I said.

“I’ll get your bags, sir,” he said curtly.

As Robbins started collect

ing my things, I strolled across the concrete pavement to the doors to check in.

So far, I wasn’t inspired with confidence by the ski resort I was about to buy.

A lot of people in my business handled these kinds of sales from a distance or had agents do this kind of field work for them, but I had always been a more direct man. Since inheriting my father’s empire of hotels and resorts, I’d set out to make an impression on my new employees that I was a man who took a more hands-on approach.

As a result, the past three years had been a whirlwind of flying all over the country and beyond to our different sites, doing routine inspections on the day-to-day affairs of each place.

This business meant my family’s legacy, and I was not about to let it go unsupervised.

Today was a little different. I didn’t own Peppertree. Not yet, at least.

I made my way up to reception, where the young woman on the phone looked up at me and held up a finger for me to wait a moment. I recognized it as the kind of thoughtless move one does on reflex.

Of course, she did a double-take at the sight of me, as they always do. She saw my height, my thick, muscular frame barely hidden by my perfectly tailored Italian suit, and my chiseled jaw, and her eyes wanted to linger on me a little longer.

It was understandable, but it was not professional.

I stood in front of the desk for a few minutes, glancing around idly while I waited for the receptionist to finish her call with what sounded like another guest. I noticed her scribbling notes down in a notebook in front of her, and I fought the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Glancing around, I noticed she was the only receptionist working the lobby at the moment. It was late afternoon, why weren’t there more people working?

Still, I held back the sigh of disappointment I’d give at one of my own places being run like this.

The receptionist finally hung up her phone and smiled at me with the desperate look of someone at her wit’s end. I cracked the faintest hint of a smile in return.

“Welcome to the Peppertree Hotel, are you checking in?”

I glanced at the business card stack sitting next to her, which clearly read Peppertree Resort.

“Yes,” I replied curtly as Robbins entered behind me, carrying my bags. “The name is Hawthorne. Chase Hawthorne.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened at the sight of Robbins, and she hastily picked the phone up and called a bellhop downstairs before giving me an apologetic grin.

“Right, Mr. Hawthorne, let me just see here…” I watched her thumb through her notebook in a hurry. “I’m so sorry, our computers are down today, so we’re having to do things the old fashioned way.”

“Today?” I asked. One of my eyebrows shot up. “How long have they been down?”

“Since last night. We’re hoping to have things up and running again by tomorrow, though!” she chimed with a genuinely hopeful smile.

I almost felt bad for her. The idea that the computer systems at a place like this wouldn’t be up and running again within a few hours was ludicrous to me, but over a day? I frowned and nodded.

Behind me, Robbins set down the bags just in time for a bellhop to arrive. He was a flustered young man with shaggy hair, and his uniform didn’t fit. Even Robbins look dubious about letting him take the luggage.