Page 12
He flashes two envelopes in my face.
"That's a disaster?"
"It is when they didn't give Aidan a room at all."
I look over beside the reception desk, where a huge dark-haired guy with a black-and-gray tattoo sleeve stands with his arms crossed, dishing out the dissatisfaction of a man who has been awake since five and now has nowhere to put his bag.
"Aidan Colby," I say quietly. "I've played against him."
Nate nods from beside me. "Yeah, man. He hits like a freight train."
We watch as the commotion around the room only gets worse.
"I need a room, and I need it now," Aidan says at the reception counter.
"He's been saying that for an hour," says a third guy leaning against the desk—light brown hair, leather bracelet, guitar case at his feet, looking deeply entertained by everyone's suffering. "For the record, I'm not even registered. I’m Dylan. I’m only here to play music with my sister—apparently known to resort management as Steven.”
He points at the pretty blonde behind reception, who is drowning in paperwork and looking completely unimpressed at the gold name badge that clearly says STEVEN.
"It's Stevie," she says, without looking up. "The badge is wrong, the hampers are missing, and if one more enormous man leans on my desk, I'm calling the mountain rescue people and telling them to take you all back."
Near the Christmas tree stand, Colin is now waving a clipboard at Big Mike while Big Mike waves a bottle of bourbon back.
“They’re the missing welcome hampers,” Colin snaps. “How can they be missing if they’re right fucking there?”
“Because those are for the sponsors,” Big Mike argues. “The players’ hampers have protein powder. Only billionaires get bourbon.”
Audrey stands beside me, smelling gorgeous and watching this all play out like she'd rather be back up stranded on the mountain. “This is just painful to watch.”
“Welcome to professional hockey.”
“No. This is just poor labelling.”
Before I can ask what she means, she slips over and heads directly into the disaster.
I walk to the desk to sort out my own room, and that's when I hear a different voice behind me.
"Okay. Everybody stop touching things."
I turn around, and it's not a different voice, Audrey has just walked into the middle of the chaos, still wearing my coat, and now she's holding up a hamper label and addressing the whole lobby.
"These are labeled for the Frostbite Falcons. This entire stack got switched with your team's packs—see the color coding? Someone put the Wildcard hampers at the wrong desk."
She points across the lobby.
"They're over there. You—big guy with the beard—you have two keys because someone entered you twice, which means tattoo guy's room exists, it's just under the wrong name." She plucks a key packet off the counter, checks it, and hands it to Aidan. "Congratulations. You have a bed."
Aidan stares at the key like she's performed a fucking Christmas miracle. "Who are you?"
"Nobody." Audrey's eyes flash across the room at me. "I'm not even supposed to be here."
She keeps moving anyway, redirecting bags, reuniting hampers, sliding a corrected registration sheet across to Stevie, who looks at her like she's witnessing an angel descend.
Within four minutes, the lobby goes from riot to luxurious reception room.
I can't stop watching her. That confident, bossy, sexy as hell voice coming out of the same woman who flashed her nipple at me an hour ago is doing catastrophic things to my concentration.
Big Mike appears at my shoulder, stunned disbelief written across his face as he stares at Audrey with the expression of a man watching money walk.
