Page 139 of Hard to Get

“I’m going home,” Cam growls. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Stella.”

“Bye! It was nice to meet you!” I grimace.

Laurent shakes his head. “Ostie de crisse de tabarnak de câlisse.”

I blink.

“The more French words he adds, the worse it is,” Jayden tells me, tugging my hand. “Let’s go. See you tomorrow, LG.” We start down the sidewalk. “Goddamn fucking hell.”

I try not to laugh. This isn’t funny.

“Something has to change,” Jayden grumbles. “And fucking soon.”

36

STELLA

The drive to Whistler is gorgeous although there’s a lot of traffic Friday afternoon. We’re not the only ones heading that way. I took the afternoon off so we could get there in time for dinner. Jayden made a reservation for dinner tonight, and booked our hotel, as well as a Finnish spa package for tomorrow.

I’m excited. Two whole days and two whole nights together, just us, in a fabulous setting.

Snow falls softly as we enter the town. Jayden finds the hotel with no problem and pulls into the property driveway, stopping at the front doors. A doorman helps with our luggage and Jayden gives the keys to the valet to park his SUV.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper to him as we enter the lobby. The building is multi-storied, faced with stone and timber on the outside. The lobby is sleek and modern but still feels rustic, with wood paneled walls, stone floors, and a fire burning warmly in a big fireplace.

Jayden checks us in while I wander to enjoy the Christmas decorations: an enormous tree loaded with little white lights, garlands strung everywhere, and masses of poinsettias.

Our room is on the seventh floor. It turns out it’s actually a suite.

“This seems extravagant for two days,” I remark, heading straight to the window. The view out the window is almost dark, with the overcast sky and mountains casting shadows. There’s already quite a bit of snow here. “Oh, there’s a balcony.” A balcony with a small snow drift on it.

“Phhhht. Extravagant. It’s just a small suite.”

I turn, smiling. “Okay, it is.” There isn’t a separate bedroom, but there’s a small kitchenette and bar with stools, and a couch and armchair.

There’s also a bottle of wine in an ice bucket sitting on the bar.

“Is this for us?” I move toward it.

“It is. I’ll open it.”

There’s a corkscrew in a drawer and he efficiently removes the cork from the bottle then pours wine into the two lovely glasses sitting there also. Then he lifts his glass to me in a little toast and we gently clink our glasses together.

“This is so nice.” I sip the white wine.

Jayden sets the suitcases on luggage racks and then joins me on the couch with his glass of wine.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven,” he says.

“Can I ask where it is? Or is that a surprise? You’ve been very closed-mouthed about these plans.”

He laughs. “It’s not a surprise. We’re going to Messina. Italian.”

“Nice.”

“Have you been there?”

“Nope. I haven’t been here for a while.”