“There’s a silent ‘but’ in there,” Zoey said, squishing her towels to see what made them so special.
“But it’s nice when there’s only a handful of you know what’s in the hotel at once. They’re running me ragged.” Quinn made another face, her eyes crinkling in mischief. “At least the tips are good.”
Considering Zoey’s profession as a career waitress, she could appreciate a strong tipper. A few more of them and she might have made it here a couple of years sooner.
The elevator door opened to a private hallway entrance, the staff elevator doors hidden from view at the end of the hall, blending into the décor so no one would notice the elevator—or the people working there. When they stepped into the penthouse suite, Zoey’s jaw dropped. Between the massive stone fireplace and a kitchen bigger than her place back home, the suite was the perfect combination of cozy, rustic opulence and space, with window after window revealing an utterly spectacular view of the Chugach Mountains.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah, it never gets old. If you have to clean toilets, there are worse places.”
Prying into a stranger’s private room was wrong, but as Zoey stood in her spot, towels balanced in her arms with Quinn bustling around her, she couldn’t help but stare. The expensive purses just draped over the backs of chairs, bottles of champagne in buckets of ice already chilling despite the early morning hour. Gucci luggage stacked everywhere. She was astonished at the luxury around her.
“What do people pay for rooms like these?”
“More for one night than I make in a month.” Taking the towels from her, Quinn offered Zoey a grateful look. “And trust me, it’s not worth it. There’s nothing in here that we don’t have better down in town.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that either.”
Zoey had the feeling Quinn’s secrets were secret to very few, if the last few minutes had proven anything. Still, she nodded in reassurance. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’ll have to unpack their things in a moment. They just arrived and went down for breakfast.”
“This isn’t Killian’s room, is it?” Trying not to touch anything, Zoey edged out of the room and into the open doorway, a backward kind of shuffle with her hands firmly in her pockets.
“Mr. Montgomery? Do you know him?”
“We didn’t meet in Greece last year.”
Quinn blinked, then powered through her confusion with vibrant optimism. “I’ll tell him you’re here, then. Have you been to the Tourist Trap yet? Everyone has to go there when they first get into town. It’s tradition.”
“Oh, I did. And I will never go back. I made an idiot of myself. The owner had to bring me home.”
Quinn’s jaw dropped.
“You? You’re her?” Her. As if Zoey was Moby Dick, an elusive whale of a tourist. “Did Graham Barnett really carry you? Oh, that is so romantic.”
Cringing, Zoey edged half an inch into the hallway. “I don’t really remember.”
“The whole hotel has been talking about it. Poor Grass thought he was going to have to fight Graham.”
“What?”
“Then Hannah got control of the situation. She’s so good at that.”
“Wait, what situation?”
“And all for a burrito. I know Graham is crazy, and not just crazy hot, but seriously. Grass has skills. He trained in jujitsu in Anchorage for a long time. I bet he would have won.”
“Won the…burrito?”
Confusion didn’t begin to cover this.
“Okay, we’re all set! I’ll tell Mr. Montgomery you’re looking for him. Thanks again! Goodbye!”
With a bright smile, Quinn shut the penthouse door on Zoey’s face.
“He doesn’t actually know me—” Zoey started to say through the door, then she sighed. “Okeydokey.”
It took a while to find her way back to the lobby without a hospitality specialist to follow, but eventually, Zoey managed it. The hotel had several stations posted about the lobby with employees just itching to be helpful. Zoey knew where she was going, and she managed to avoid most of them. As she passed a souvenir shop dripping with handcrafted Alaskan-themed jewelry on display, she spied Lana seated at a table by the window with three other people, one of whom Zoey assumed was the secondary Killian whose suite she’d been in without permission.
Everyone at the table was enjoying themselves and their smoked trout, so Zoey scurried past before Lana could notice her. Zoey turned a corner and ran nose-to-name tag into another body, a tall, rawboned young man in his early twenties.
“Hi, my name is Diego” was trying to beam. This one was definitely trying and failing to beam.
“Did you need any help today, ma’am?”
Diego the bellhop might have sounded friendlier if he hadn’t spoken in a monotone, his eyes and voice flat. So close. Freedom and sunshine were within Zoey’s reach, but Diego the bellhop was right in her way.
“Oh, I was just wandering around. There’s supposed to be some hiking trails connected to the resort.”
“Yes.” He stared at her. Zoey stared back. Neither blinked.
Maybe it was the starch. His uniform had an awful lot of starch.
When she sidestepped, Diego the bellhop followed suit, determined to do his job. “On the far side of the grounds, take a left past the miniature golf course. Would you like a complimentary bottle of water and locally sourced organic granola bar to take with you today?”
Why yes. Yes, she would.
Shoving the granola bar at her, Diego continued in his dispassionate voice, “As valued guests of Moose Springs Resort, we encourage our patrons to dispose of all food wrappers in one of our provided bear-proof waste bins. Please refrain from carrying food items on the walking trails.”
He forced his lips to lift away from gritted teeth. “A hungry bear is a grumpy bear.”
“Umm, yes. I’ll eat it on the grounds.”
“Also, if you’d like breakfast before you leave, our head chef is world renowned for her fine dining cuisine. Her specialty is a lightly smoked trout on toast, served with house-made wild berry jam.”
Zoey shuddered and made her escape.
The instant she stepped through the doors of the hotel, the fresh, crisp mountain air filled her lungs, and the sweet, earthy scent of evergreens washed away the lingering scent of breakfast fish.
The resort was everything rustic lodge glamour, fitting in perfectly with their surroundings. Even in July, the weather was much cooler here than it would be back home in Chicago. Within the grounds alone, there were so many activities, Zoey could have spent the whole summer there and not done them all. As she wandered, smiling shyly at the far more robust guests taking advantage of the on-site amenities, Zoey munched on her granola bar.
Taking pictures on her phone from every angle imaginable, Zoey sighed in pleasure. Perfect. This was absolutely perfect.
Despite Diego’s lack of personality, his directions were excellent. The resort had paid special attention to providing signs for the trails spider-webbing away from the main grounds. The head of this jogging trail was marked with an information station, complete with a map of the trails and a list of local wildlife that could be found. Even the large government-produced sign was nicer than she’d ever seen, tucked beneath the shade of a log structure and protected from the elements by a thick casing of clear plexiglass.
“Warning. Numerous wildlife encounters have been known to occur on this trail,” Zoey read aloud. “Know your bears.”
A thrill of excitement flushed through her system.
“Never fear, I have come prepared. Bear bells, check. Bear spray, check. No small children wandering from the trail, check. Make sure to hike with a friend.”
Hmmm. If the sign had ever seen Lana in a wilderness type situation, it would have
known better than to suggest that.
“Well, I’ll just have to be extra person-y.”
Ready for her first adventure but just hungover enough to not want to climb a mountain, Zoey picked a wide, sweeping trail with minimal elevation changes. The hike would take her at least an hour, staying within the resort’s property. Later, when she was feeling better, Zoey had every intention of exploring every inch of these mountains she could. Taking a picture of the map with her phone, Zoey and her water took off.
The trail couldn’t have been tidier unless someone had personally vacuumed the pine needles off the ground. The mountains rose high above the surrounding trees. With every step, her heart swelled wider, her soul flying free. Never had she been happier.
At the unmarked junction, Zoey had the choice to go right or left. On a whim, she went right, when thus far, all her turns had been left.
Zoey knew where she was going. She did. Even when the trail twisted and turned more than the map said it should. Even when it stopped being so well maintained and narrowed on both sides. Even when it became clear that she’d made a wrong turn somewhere and needed to reevaluate her location.
She was a strong, independent woman perfectly capable of taking care of herself in the Alaskan wilderness.
Which was why, when she turned the corner and ended up next to a massive steel shipping container, face-to-welding mask with a man brandishing a chainsaw above them, Zoey knew exactly what to do. She ran away. And when he yelled something, grabbing her arm and pulling her around, Zoey was more than prepared for the situation.
Screaming bloody murder, Zoey kicked him straight between the legs.
The Tourist Attraction
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About the Author
Geologist and lifelong science nerd Sarah Morgenthaler is a passionate supporter of chocolate chip cookies, geeking out over rocks, and playing with her rescue pit bull, Sam. When not writing contemporary romance and romantic comedy, Sarah can be found traveling with her husband, hiking national parks, and enjoying her own happily ever after. Sarah is the author of the Moose Springs, Alaska series, including Publishers Weekly starred novel The Tourist Attraction.
Romantic Comedy at Sourcebooks Casablanca
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Wanted: One (fake) boyfriend. Practically perfect in every way.
Conventionally Yours
Two infamous rivals. One epic road trip. And a journey neither will ever forget.
Bad Bachelor
Everybody’s talking about the hot new app reviewing New York’s most eligible bachelors. But why focus on prince charming when you can read the latest dirt on NYC’s most notorious bad boys?
The Tourist Attraction
Welcome to Moose Springs, Alaska: a small town with a big heart, and the only world-class resort where black bears hang out to look at you!
Mistletoe and Mr. Right
The holidays are happier when you find a place to belong. Especially if it’s with your true love…and a Scrooge-like moose.
Enjoy the View
A grouchy mountaineer, a Hollywood starlet, and miles of untamed wilderness… What could possibly go wrong?
Coming to Sourcebooks Casablanca January 2021!
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Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 39
