Karen and Nick had their own rooms, but they often hung out in my dad's room when he wasn't around. Karen was sitting at the table and Nick was on the couch, holding a remote and staring at the television. I was not at all surprised to see them in my dad's room. Depending on the trip, one or more of Dad's tough-guy friends would travel with us so that Dad didn’t get hassled. I looked around, wondering if it was just the two of them or if anyone else came.
"Your driver should be here any minute," Karen said.
"Thanks," I said with a nod. I glanced around the room. "Are you the only ones here?" I asked.
"Yep, me and Nick."
"Hey Blue-Buffalo," Nick said, turning to wave at me.
I was a nickname collector.
My dad had started it long ago, and others had caught on over the years. They attached whatever they wanted to the end of my first name.
Usually, it started with a "B" but not always.
Blue-Bells
Blue-Button
Blue-Bayou
Blue-Cheese
Blue-Bottom
Blue-Bird
Blue-Bug
Blue-Suede Shoes
My name was ever changing.
There were only so many catchy options, so the same ones got used over and over. Sometimes, a name would catch on for a while if the person saying it thought it was particularly funny.
Blue-Buffalo was one of Nick's favorites.
He'd been calling me that off and on since the brand came out. I could just tell by his satisfied smile that it still cracked him up.
"Hey Nick," I returned.
"Are you coming with me to Mitch's?"
Nick shook his head. "Your dad said I could just hang here with Karen. We just called for some delivery. Chinese."
"Oh, okay," I said.
"Did you catch up on your sleep?" Karen asked.
I came to stand in the kitchen, closer to her.
"I feel better," I said. "But I'm still a little out-of-it. Like I'm turned upside down. It feels like it's about three in the morning."
"Why don't you drink some coffee?" she asked.
I thought that was a splendid idea. I had planned on doing that when I first woke up and had just forgotten. "I guess I'll head downstairs," I said. "I'll hit that café in the lobby on my way out."
Nick asked me if I wanted him to make a cup for me in the room, but I thanked him and told him I'd just buy a cup of the strong stuff on my way out. I said my goodbyes to the two of them and headed downstairs.
I would have been lying if I said I wasn't disappointed when I got downstairs didn't see the handsome hotel manager anywhere. I had worked myself up to thinking that he would be randomly standing at the elevator doors when I arrived on the first floor, but he wasn't. He wasn't in the lobby, either. Nor was he in the café. I stood in line behind one other lady before stepping up to the counter to order.
I could usually tell when someone knew who I was, and the girl taking my order didn’t seem to know or care. I ordered a medium coffee with room for cream.
"For here or to go?" she asked.
"To go, please, Jennifer."
I knew who had said it before I even turned.
It was Taylor.
I turned to find that he had walked up from behind me and was now standing directly beside me. He was taller than me, so I found myself looking up.
"Right?" he asked, looking down at me with a little smile. He gestured behind him with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to decide for you, but the driver's here, so I just figured you were taking it with you."
"No, I am, I was, I am. To-go, please," I said, talking to Jennifer but not taking my eyes off of him.
Taylor unabashedly stared me straight in the eyes. I blinked. His eyes were grey-ish green, soft and warm, like misty sage.
"You look, um… rested," he said. He hesitated somewhat like he was searching for the right word.
"Thank you," I said with a smile and a little bow. "I got a pretty long nap just now."
I looked around us, at the café which opened up into the hotel lobby. It felt weird that it was the same day that I had come in. Taylor had changed clothes, which added to the feeling that it was a completely different day.
"Are you still working?" I asked.
"Yes and no," he said. He reached out for my coffee. "Did you want anything else?" I shook my head, and he pulled a bill out of his pocket and handed it to the clerk. "Thanks," he said to her before beginning to walk toward the condiment table. He assumed I would follow, which I did. "The answer to your question is that, technically, I'm not working. I have some work to do later tonight, but right now, I'm taking a little break for dinner."
"Everyone needs to eat." I said. I cringed inwardly and hoping that wasn't my big funny moment.
Taylor set my cup onto the table, and I began adding sugar and cream.
I had lived an eventful life. I had a lot of experience under my belt for such a young person. This gave me a certain level of confidence. Usually, I was friendly with people and had no trouble making conversation. My dad would say I was quick as a whip and funny, too. I don't know if I'd go that far, but I had no trouble getting along with people in my life.
I lost my chops with this guy, though. He was distractingly handsome, and he had social presence that turned heads and demanded respect. He rendered me tongue-tied and nervous, which was a rare feeling for someone who was usually numb to the charms of fame and fortune.
"Your dad said you were an investor," Taylor said.
I had been looking at my coffee as I stirred it, but I glanced at Taylor and nodded thoughtfully when he said that.
"Dad has called me that for a long time, and I always took it as a joke or thought he was teasing me, but I guess it's true. Yes, I am." I smiled and took a quick but deep breath. "I guess I can call myself an investor by now." I stuck my hand out and Taylor smiled warmly as he shook it. "But mostly, I'm just Blue."
Taylor's handshake was gentle but firm, and he stared right into my eyes, smiling at me.
"Mostly I'm Taylor," he said, causing me to become breathless. I took short, panting, uneven breaths as I pulled back and glanced away.
He began walking toward the door, and I followed since that was where I was headed. He had already mentioned that my driver was waiting, so I knew he knew where I was going.
"Why'd you think your dad was teasing you about making investments?" Taylor asked as we walked.
"He wasn't," I said. "He was serious. He took me completely serious from the beginning. I was just insecure about it. My dad's the one who got me started. He gave me money to invest. It's not like I started from nothing."
"But you're doing it on your own now," Taylor assumed.
I nodded. "I still can't believe I get to do that for a job. I can buy cool ideas and make money at it. It's hard for me to think of it as work."
"He said you were in on Bitcoin before that whole thing took off."
I smiled. "I was," I said, nodding. "That was fun."
I wanted to ask him about his job—about his book, but we drew ever closer to the front door, and I felt rushed and out of breath.
"I just try to figure out what kids want," I said, shrugging. "They really control the market. I try to hop on trends before they become trends."
"I think that's what all investors are supposed to do, when you think about it," Taylor said.
I nodded.
"You just use a more organic approach."
I laughed. "If organic is what you call it when I accidently pick winners, then…"
"You shouldn't be so humble," he said, glancing downward at me. He had opened the front door, and he said the words just as I walked past him. I looked up at him, and his face slowly shifted to a smile. "I don't think there's anything accidental about the success you've had."
"How do you know what success I've had."
"Your dad told me," he said.
I started walking again, and he followed me outside. We
walked toward the car together. I wanted to say something funny—maybe about my dad, or my job, or his job, but I was nervous and therefore nothing seemed like a suitable option. I settled for silence.
It was a beautiful fall afternoon, and I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with cool air. I couldn't help but wonder what my dad had said to Taylor. I shot a smile in his direction and he returned it before looking at my driver.
I stared at his profile. I tried not to gawk. He was dressed in jeans and a thin, fitted burgundy sweater with a plaid, button-down shirt underneath. He was casual but sharp, and I couldn’t stop myself from scanning his appearance as we stood on the sidewalk.
"How are you, Harry?" Taylor asked.
"I'm great, Mr. Patterson, how are you?"
"Better than ever," Taylor said. "I think I'm gonna have some fun tonight."
I felt an unwarranted pang of jealousy when he said that.
"Well, that sounds like a plan to me," Harry said, beaming at Taylor before focusing on me with his head tilted.
"And you, Miss Stone, do you plan on having some fun tonight as well."
I shrugged. "Well, maybe not as much fun as Taylor here," I said.
"Ouch," Taylor said, smiling as he cringed. He put his fist to his chest as if there was a knife in his heart.
Harry held the door open, but I didn't notice him because I was too confused by Taylor's reaction.
Chapter 5
"Why'd you do that?" I asked, with a curious glance aimed at Taylor.
"Why'd I do what?" Taylor asked.
"Say ouch. Act hurt like that."
"Because you made it seem like he was gonna have a lot more fun than you tonight," Harry said, chiming in.
I glanced at him and then back at Taylor.
"You're the one who said you were about to go have a bunch of fun," I said to Taylor.
"I still think I am," Taylor said, looking at me with a cautious smile. "I hope I am."
I nodded. "All I was saying was that I probably wouldn't have as much fun as you," I explained.
This made Taylor's smile change. He stared at me almost hopelessly as if there was some kind of big misunderstanding. "That's why I said, 'ouch'," he said.
I smiled distractedly and shook my head as I stared at him. He was so dashing, and I was so swept up by it all that I was literally unable to understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. I knew he was a smart, competent person, so I figured I was the one who was confused in this scenario. The afternoon sun shone into his green eyes, revealing their gold hues. For a second, I got lost looking at them.
"I think she has no idea you're going to the same place," Harry said, seeing Taylor and I stare at each other in quiet confusion.
Taylor tilted his head at me, but it took a few seconds for me to comprehend what Harry had said. My eyes were locked with Taylor's as I put a hand to my chest.
"I didn't… did he say… are you… are you coming with me?"
Taylor's face fell to a mask of utter disbelief. "Is this the first you're hearing about this?" He glanced into the hotel and then back at me as if genuinely confused.
"Yes," I said. "Are you seriously coming with me?"
He nodded. "If that's okay with you," he said.
"To Mitch's house?"
He nodded again and gestured toward the hotel. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew when I said I was going to dinner… I thought your dad would have told you. I can tell by the look on your face that this is the first you're hearing about any of this…" he said the last line in a slow, measured, reluctant tone. "I am so sorry this is taking you off guard right now," he added. "I could just—"
"No, no, no," I said. "I'm just… I had no idea you were… did my dad invite you?" I asked.
His face fell, and he regarded me with a serious expression as he shook his head. "No. He has no idea I'm coming. I just saw you there in the café and figured I'd go wherever you're going."
My head tilted slightly as I squinted, giving him a skeptical glance.
He smiled. "Your dad invited me," he said. "But I assumed he okayed it with you. I'm sorry you didn’t know anything about it. I should have made sure you knew. I just assumed…"
"I'm glad you're coming," I said. I shrugged nervously. "I mean… for dinner. Everyone needs to eat, right?" I knew I sounded nervous, so I made myself stop talking.
Taylor grinned casually as he put a hand on the back of my arm. He gestured with his other hand for me to go ahead of him into the car, and when he did, Harry bowed as well. The skin on my arm came alive when he touched me, but I broke contact almost instantly, stepping toward the curb.
The temperature in the backseat was warm compared to the outside air, but the leather seats were cool to the touch, and my skin tingled as I climbed inside. I had ridden in this backseat once already this morning, but the experience was completely different now that Taylor was climbing into it with me. I scooted to the center, making room for Taylor to sit next to me. I thought about stopping there rather than continuing to the far edge. The middle seat was spacious. It wasn't like I would be cramming myself into it. I wanted to stay there, but I was too nervous. I scooted to the seat on the far side and stashed my coffee so that I could work on buckling my seatbelt.
As I did all of this, Taylor climbed into the backseat. He situated in his seat and then sighed as he glanced at me with a grin. I could not believe he was going to Mitch's with me. I could not believe Dad hadn't told me. I had imagined myself casually running into Taylor in the lobby. I certainly hadn't pictured him climbing into the backseat with me.
I had seen a lot of handsome men in my life, but this guy… he had something more than looks. He had that certain something—the 'it' factor.
He wasn't just handsome.
He was brilliant. He had the type of brilliance you could see in his physical appearance. I felt nervous and overwhelmed by his proximity. I took a sip of my coffee, thankful for the distraction.
"How long are you staying in Boston?" he asked. "I mean, I know you'll only be at our hotel through tomorrow night; I just didn't know if you… I didn't know where you were headed after that."
"Back home to California," I said. I smiled at him. "I thought you were just working at The Birmingham for a few days."
"I am."
"Why'd you call it our hotel? Are you buying it or something?"
"No, no. I just think of it as mine. That's how my mind works. That's how I'm able to do what I do." He gave me a humble grin. "I bet that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I take ownership in my mind, basically. It helps me see things more clearly. Prioritize."
"I get that," I said, nodding. "You just pretend The Birmingham is your baby while you're here."
"Exactly. I treat her like she's mine."
"My dad said he thought you were opening a hotel of your own."
"I am," Taylor said. "That one really is my baby. I'm pretty pumped about it. It's a dream come true."
"What made you want to do that? Open a hotel."
He shrugged. "I don't know anything else. I grew up in a hotel, basically. They're like home to me."
"Did your parents own one or something?"
He let out a little laugh. "Hardly. My dad was a hotel maintenance man. He had some problems, so he worked at about ten different properties over the years. I'm the oldest in the family, so I went to work with him a lot while my mom had my little brother. I got to see the underbelly of those hotels. I took mental notes about things I saw. All I did was watch and listen. I kept thinking if I could only open my own place one day, I'd be the one who could do it right. I'd be the one who doesn't make all those mistakes."
"So, you just decided to do it and you did it?" I asked. "Just worked for your dream and got it?"
"That's the short story," he said with a nod. "There was a lot of planning, and working, and failure, and pitfalls in the process, but yes, I did it. I'm opening a hotel of my own. It's humbling to even say that. I feel like you said earlier, like I c
an't believe I could figure out a way to make money doing what I do. I have people pay money to come over and stay at my house, basically. I get to meet new people all the time."
"You called it your house," I said.
"It is my house," he said. "That's what I was saying about how I operate. One of the penthouses is my personal apartment. I literally live there. It's the whole idea behind my hospitality philosophy. I'm the man of the house. I welcome our guests and I care about their comfort just as if they were staying at my house." He smiled. "Of course, I don't give them keys to my room or anything."
"Of course not," I said. "What's the name of it?"
"Patterson Place."
"Is that something people do? Live in their own hotel?"
"I don't think so," he said. "I don't know. On a smaller scale, for sure. You know, like a bed and breakfast."
"Are your customers gonna know you live there?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to advertise it that way or anything. But they'll feel the difference with me taking pride and ownership. It even filters down to my staff. They're able to tell that someone really cares. It's not necessary to live onsite, but I've always done it that way."
"Do you mean you've lived in a hotel before this one you're about to open?"
He let out a little chuckle. "Yes. All of my adult life, I've lived in one. I started working when I was sixteen, and by the time I turned eighteen, I was living at the place. Before long, I was managing the night shift. We sorted it out where part of my salary was free room and board. That was nine years ago."
"And now you're buying a hotel of your own?"
He nodded. "I am."
"You think you're ready for that?"
His face shifted to an irresistible, confident grin. "I was born ready," he said.
"So, you're building yourself a big house with a bunch of guest bedrooms, and you'll rent them out to people by the night?"
He let out a little laugh. "That's precisely what I'm doing. I really do feel that way. I love going down to the lobby to see who's checking in, who's staying with me."
The Suite Life (The Family Stone Book 1) Page 4
