Maybe next time it will, I told myself.
~11~
“So when are you and Gareth going out again?”
I bit my lip, something I was glad Kristen couldn’t see from over the phone. As it was, my tone sounded a tad evasive as I told her, “Not for awhile, probably. He’s out of town, promoting his latest book.”
"The one with the lighthouse on the cover? I love that one. Do you think he would sign it for me sometime?”
“Sure, probably,” I said. Although I hadn’t asked him to sign my own copy from home yet. Maybe I would correct that oversight when he got back. That would be sometime in the next couple weeks.
Until then, I didn’t expect to hear from him. Gareth only called to set up our meetings at the coffee shop once a week, which was a disappointing sign to all my friends. He hadn’t asked me anywhere formal since the symphony, and I wondered if he had a reason for keeping things casual. Like maybe he wasn’t too sure about his interest in me quite yet. So far, I was feeling the same way about him, so there was no need to jump into anything serious anytime soon.
“Were there any packages for me today, dear?”
Ms. Dabree wore a hopeful expression as she stopped by the desk that evening. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Dabree. No packages today at all.”
“Oh, what a shame. I was hoping there would be.”
Me too, I thought. Before quickly reminding myself that Levi’s deliveries were strictly business, not a social occasion.
He was probably too busy dating his cute friend from the pub to make small talk with other people. He had said they had a lot in common, his circle of friends, so naturally this girl fit the definition. All that we had shared were a handful of conversations and a glance or two that seemed a lot more significant than any of it turned out to be.
Still, I found I couldn't stop thinking about him when he wasn't around. I missed him on the days my shift didn't coincide with his delivery schedule. The disappointment I felt when I saw someone else kissing him was hard to describe as anything but the feeling of dashed romantic hopes.
It made me wonder if seeing Gareth was really what I wanted. Maybe it was part of the recent events that were making me feel insecure about my life. I didn’t want to start a relationship just for the sake of not being alone. Or getting over my feelings for someone else. That would be a terrible mistake, but so would missing a great opportunity with someone like Gareth. If only I felt something more for him than just friendship, this would all be easier.
If I had only known that my romantic dilemma was about to be a lot harder.
_________________________
I had a busy week, made harder by the fact a fellow concierge needed me to sub for him a few times. When Friday came, I was dead on my feet, working the late shift, and wishing I was at home with a book and a hot bath. Just my luck, a couple of guests decided to make it extra difficult for me.
Most of our clientele is made up of well-behaved, professional individuals. But occasionally this type shows up: hotshot junior executives, bent on making the most of their company’s all-expense paid business venture. These two had already hit the town, and were looking for a nightcap to send them off to bed. When they discovered the hotel bar was closed for the night, they lodged a complaint in loud terms at the front desk.
“I’m sorry,” I told them, “but the bar is closed by ten every night, no exceptions. Is there something else I can do for you?” Like send coffee to your rooms for those massive hangovers you’re going to have? I thought to myself.
“How about a couple of Scotch on the rocks?” the taller one suggested, his tie about to slip from his collar. His friend was in a similar state, his blond hair disheveled and his suit rumpled as he struggled to stay upright against the desk.
“I’m afraid not,” I told them. “Now if you gentleman will excuse me—”
“Hey, come on, baby, just one more drink.” The blond guy grabbed my wrist as I walked past him, clinging to me in a desperate bid to get his wish. Luckily, he was already wasted enough, his grip didn’t have too much power behind it. Exasperated, I had just managed to shake him off when a hand clapped onto his shoulder. A new guest had arrived while these two were harassing me, and his voice held a note of warning as he spoke to the wide-eyed businessmen.
“I think maybe you boys should call it a night,” he told them. “Sounds like the bar is closed to me.”
They stared at him, taken aback. He was taller than either of them, with a confidence that seemed to defy resistance. “Go and sleep it off, guys,” he advised, nodding towards the elevator. “Trust me, you’ll be glad you did in the morning.”
Blond guy scowled at him before slinking off towards the elevator, his friend close behind—and I took a closer look at my rescuer. My heart skipped a beat at the familiar features. It wasn't the face of a stranger, but someone I knew. A face I had pictured and re-pictured over the years in a string of scenarios that was part memory, part fantasy.
“Some guys just can’t take a hint,” he told me, shaking his head.
I was still speechless for a moment. “Connor?” I asked.
It was the same blue eyes and thick brown hair. The same wiry but powerful build beneath his tailored sports jacket and jeans. My college classmate and former crush, Connor Mills, was standing right across from me.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, grinning in a puzzled way. He tilted his head a little, studying me. “Have we met before?”
“Jodi Nichols,” I answered. Jodi Nichols, who had a crush on you all through college. Who helped you write papers and cheered loudly at your every game, waiting for you to notice me — you know, that Jodi?"
His brow furrowed at the name. No doubt, he was struggling to make a connection between some hotel employee and his somewhat nerdy classmate of six years ago.
“Braxton University,” I said. “Miranda Nelson’s roommate. I worked at Applebee’s as a seating hostess for awhile—”
“Jodi!” Recognition dawned in his face at last. “Yeah, of course, I remember. Look at you,” he added, with a smile. “You look incredible.” He sounded as if he meant it.
I blushed. I couldn’t help it. He was even better looking than I remembered, with a perfect tan and just the right amount of stubble shading his attractive features.
“How have you been?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you since… well, graduation.” His graduation, that is. Connor had been a year ahead of me, a pre-law student, with a talent for basketball on the side. I wondered which of those interests he had channeled into a career, his next words revealing the answer.
“I’m doing fantastic. I passed the bar my first try and joined the team at Hurt, Palmer, & Morris. They’re a law firm upstate—you’ve probably heard of them. That’s why I’m here, actually. Arranging a big business merger for a client at the firm.”
Clearly, Connor had done well for himself, taking his career more seriously than his years as a pre-law student at Braxton. I had assumed he would be married by now, but his hand was jewelry free when I sneaked a peek at his ring finger.
He might be engaged. Or between relationships. But he wasn’t, as I learned from the next few minutes of conversation, since Connor stayed at the desk to chat after checking in, even as the bellmen brought his luggage through to the elevator.
“I guess traveling around, representing one of the biggest firms in the state hasn’t left a lot of time for building a serious connection,” he told me. “It’s taken a lot to establish my career, but I think it’s been worth the sacrifice to get where I am today.”
I had been doing the same thing, in a way. Working overtime; going above and beyond to make a name for myself in the industry I loved. I could relate to his situation perfectly.
“But you,” he said. “You’ve got to be dating someone at least.”
“Sort of,” I admitted reluctantly, thinking of my coffee meetings with Gareth. “Nothing serious, though. My job is kind of like yours in that respect.
Too much to handle and still have a personal life at times.”
“Tell me about it. All work and no play.” He gave me a wry smile that proved he wished it wasn’t true. “Gosh, it’s good to see you,” he said, a softer note entering in his voice. “It really has been a long time.”
“It has,” I answered, with a smile. Feeling a strange flutter as I looked into his face, the same one I had sneaked so many glances of in our mutual classes, in between taking notes. Connor hadn’t taken many notes I recalled, coasting through most of his classes with the same ease that won him friends and admirers all over campus.
He had my notes back then, of course. And my heart — not that he ever knew it. But the mature Connor before me had managed to hone that ease and charm into real success, it seemed, since his firm trusted him with such an important merger.
The bellmen brought in the last of Connor’s luggage—all matching leather suitcases with his initials embossed on the front— as I finished checking him in on the computer. I noticed his reservation was for more than a week. That meant I would probably see him again. Would that be awkward? The two of us running out of catch-up tales and anecdotes, trying to be all business-like afterward? I couldn’t decide if this would happen.
He was on his way to the elevator, room key in hand, when he turned back and added, “Oh, hey, could I get a breakfast tray sent up tomorrow, about eight a.m.? Pancakes maybe?”
“Blueberry?” I guessed, remembering his favorite flavor at the cafeteria. Connor stared at me as if I had just performed a magic trick.
“Yeah, exactly. How did you know?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Just a hunch,” I said. “You develop an instinct for reading people in my line of work.” No need to tell him about my little obsession years ago. That would just be embarrassing, now that we were fully matured people and college was far in the past.
Connor shook his head, grinning. “That’s amazing. Your guests must love you.”
“I don’t hear many complaints,” I said.
It must be nostalgia that made my heart skip at the sight of his grin. Or maybe it was gratitude for the way he defended me against those troublesome guests a few moments ago.
"See you tomorrow, Jodi," he said.
"See you then," I answered. For a moment, this farewell reminded me of Levi, but not in a bad way. Maybe because the flutter in my chest at this moment was so similar to the one I felt when I ran into Levi at the pub.
What would my friends say if they knew about this? A knight in shining armor stepping in to save the day at just the right moment. I could almost hear them squealing about it now. A smile on my lips for the thought as the elevator whisked Connor up to the third floor.
~12~
Connor requested a breakfast tray the next two days in a row. He also requested copies of The Wall Street Journal, a bottle of French wine, and three tickets for a popular dinner theatre show. We hadn't exchanged more than a few words since that first night, much to my disappointment, since our separate schedules didn't hold the same hours.
Three tickets. That meant it wasn’t a date, I mused, waiting on hold to speak with the theatre’s manager. I had called four other times and been told it was impossible to reserve a table for three at tonight’s show. That was often the case when dealing with hot entertainment spots on short notice. It was a matter of talking to the right person at the right time. The manager was a friend of Ms. Brampton’s, and within minutes of getting on the line, he promised to have the tickets sorted out.
Feeling triumphant, I hung up. Only to spot a new message from Connor in the customer service inbox. Curious, I clicked on it.
‘I hate to be a pest, but there’s some kind of tall, leafy plant taking up the entryway to my room. Could I have it moved? Sometime before five, and to somewhere other than my room, preferably. Thanks!’
I knew the plant he was talking about. It was a potted tree, actually, and there was one in every even-numbered room on the third floor. I would have to move it to one of the rooms that didn’t have a tree already—or for that matter, a current occupant. I could let the housekeeping staff do it, of course, but somehow I felt personally responsible for Connor’s stay. I wanted him to have a good impression of me and the hotel ... for reasons I wasn’t entirely sure about yet.
Although I was ashamed to admit it, I wanted to see him again. Being the person who moved the plant would give me that chance, maybe.
With a moving dolly in tow, I knocked on Connor’s door. No response. I knocked again, before unlocking it to find a darkened room. I switched on the light, revealing his many pieces of luggage stacked along the entryway. His bed was unmade, his wardrobe door ajar to reveal a series of expensive suits. A bag of dry cleaning was draped over a chair, a laptop open on the nightstand, its screensaver a slideshow of tropical locations.
It felt strange being in there without him present. Like I was spying on him or something. I did my best not to stare too long at any of the items scattered across the room. I did notice most of them were expensive gadgets instead of business-related things. Connor seemed to have packed everything but the kitchen sink, and if I looked hard enough, I had a feeling I might see one of those too. I was here to do a job, though, not gawk at his personal possessions.
The tree was taller than I remembered, almost five feet. It was blocked by a heavy suitcase that took all my weight to wrestle out of the way. Puffing a little, I strapped the tree onto the dolly. Maybe Connor would really appreciate this. It was the least I could do after he saved me from those unruly customers last night. So I told myself as leafy green arms slapped against my face, catching in my hair as I pushed it towards the door.
Out in the hall, the dolly began to put up a fight. One of its wheels seemed to have gone wonky all of sudden. It kept veering sharply to the right, my arms pulling it the opposite direction. Back and forth like a bad comedy routine. I was glad no customers were around, my gaze scanning the path ahead. A moment later, I let out a yelp as the dolly tilted on its side, its contents colliding with the wall. It seemed to get stuck there, not quite touching the floor as I tried to pull it up again. Branches pushing against me like arms, as I let out a grunt. In the middle of this, I heard the elevator doors open.
Levi stepped from it, carrying a package. At the sight of me, his face wore a look between concern and disbelief. “Hang on," he said. “Let me help with that.”
He was there a moment later, handing me the package as he took charge of the tree. I was so grateful I forgot to feel awkward about seeing him again. It was the first time we had spoken since that chance meeting at the pub, and I had dreaded what it might be like. But the tree had proved an effective distraction, now that I had run into him.
After pulling the dolly back in place, Levi glanced at me. “Where are we headed with this?”
“The end of the hall,” I said. “Room 315.” My breath was puffing a little as it emerged, my hand making an effort to push my hair out of my face. I must look a mess. Not that it mattered, only it mattered to me.
He pushed off in that direction, no resistance from the dolly this time. I trailed behind, fumbling with the key for the plant’s temporary home. I was still holding the package he’d given me, the name on it familiar to me as a businessman who often stayed with us.
Levi glanced back at me. “Natalia said to bring that right up. Apparently, he’s waiting for it.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it,” I said. Relieved my voice didn’t sound all that nervous. Just a little out of breath from wrestling with the tree. It wasn't nerves or anything over seeing Levi again, I was sure.
Inside 315, we arranged the tree beside an entryway mirror. Glancing at my reflection, I saw bits of leaves and twigs sticking out of my hair. I hastily brushed them away, glancing up to find Levi smiling at me. Not in a mocking way, but as if we had shared a joke. I found myself laughing.
“That must have looked really strange,” I told him. “Seeing a grown woman wrest
ling with a house plant.”
“Well, technically it’s a tree,” he pointed out. “So it’s not as bad as you make it sound. But if you’re willing to see the humor in it…”
“Go ahead. Laugh if you have to. I know it must be pretty tempting.”
“Actually, the moment kind of passed for me. I think I’ll just chuckle quietly about it later, when I’ve had some time to think it over.”
I smiled at his response. Unable to resist, I gave his arm a little punch, forgetting I wasn’t supposed to be this friendly with him anymore. He looked surprised, a grin forming as he held up a hand in mock defense. It was wrong to encourage this; so wrong. But it just seemed to happen with Levi. Being myself, being playful—it wasn’t something I had to work for, the way I did with Gareth, for instance.
He reached up, plucking a twig from my hair. “Missed one,” he said, holding it up. His smile losing some of its lighthearted edge as I looked up at him from close proximity.
“See any more?” I asked. Hyper-conscious of his hand being so close to my face. He studied me for a moment, nodding.
“I think…right here.”
His fingers brushed against my cheek, disentangling another piece of foliage from strands of my dark hair. My stomach flipped, a combination of nerves and something else. Something I needed to ignore, if I wanted to keep from making any more mistakes when it came to how I felt about Levi.
Think about his girlfriend. Think about Gareth — not that you're actually dating him.
Moving back from him, I smoothed my hair, pulling it back into the pony tail band it had tried to escape from. “Thanks,” I told him, giving it a carefree toss. “I couldn’t go back down there looking as if I got attacked by a tree,” I added, hoping my tone was a convincing one. "I'd better hide the evidence."
“No one will hear it from me,” he promised. He looked at me a moment longer, then reached for the doorknob, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I guess I should get back to work,” he said.
Boyfriend by the Book: A feel good romantic comedy Page 11
