Chapter Five

Alexis:

Cleaning turns out to be unexpectedly cathartic as I imagine Jace’s face on every surface I’m deep scrubbing. I rub really hard to remove a water stain on the bathtub in this room while thinking of his face. It’s obvious he has no memory of blowing me off at prom, so his apologies don’t mean much.

Why would he think I’m still upset because he was a brat to me when we were children? I was a hellacious little brat myself, insisting on following them everywhere and minding their business. I was always pushing in where I wasn’t wanted, so I can understand why there was pushback from both my brother and his best friends. I’d be pretty petty to be holding a grudge about that.

No, my grudge is strictly from the way he went back on his promise to dance with me. I was a blind fool, and I loved him way beyond reason back then. I was at an age where I was ready to fall in love, and he was conveniently there. I tell myself it was nothing more than that now as I finish the bathroom and room before I head out to the hallway.

I should probably let that go as well, but I can’t, since I’m still hurt. It hurts because he doesn’t remember his offer to dance with me, indicating I meant so little to him, and I’m further hurt by him not even remembering the whole thing. Maybe I should just tell him why I’m upset with him, clear the air, and move on.

It sounds like a good idea until I imagine actually broaching the topic. I picture struggling to explain why I’m so upset over something that happened ten years ago, and it causes a lightbulb to go off in my head. Why the hell am I so upset about something that happened so long ago? I should’ve let it go long ago. It wasn’t like I was fixating on it all these years. It’s just having him around again leaves me raw.

There’s only one reason I’d still be emotionally reacting to it so strongly, and that reason isn’t welcome at all. Am I still hung up on Jace Wilson? No, surely not. It’s been a decade since I had that wild, impulsive, and youthful love for him. It certainly wasn’t real love, and I should know that.

I mean, I haven’t actually been in love except for Jace, but it couldn’t possibly have been the real thing back then, especially since he had a girlfriend, and I had absolutely no encouragement from him to feel that way. He’d probably be embarrassed to learn how strongly I’d felt about him.

I absolutely refuse to allow myself to still be attracted to Jace, let alone emotionally involved. He’s just the same playboy he’s always been, and I doubt his views on marriage have changed. After watching his parents fight for most of his childhood before going through a bitter divorce, it’s no wonder he has no use for commitment. I’d probably feel the same if I’d been through what he had.

Instead, I had my parents to model the ideal marriage all these years. They’ve been married since they graduated high school, and they are still in love. I can call recall the number of times they’ve ever raised their voices to each other, and their strong affection is still very much evident. That’s the kind of marriage I want, and I can’t imagine Jace being that type at all.

I’m distracted by my thoughts by one of the guests leaving her room. I struggle to remember her name for a moment. Sandy? No. She’s definitely the princess-type, with perfect snow clothes that look unworn, and her makeup and hair artfully arranged to best advantage to highlight her beauty, rather than to be practical for going out into the snow. I manage a polite smile. “Good morning.” A glance at the clock reveals it’s actually afternoon, but I don’t bother to correct myself.

She nods, not really acknowledging my greeting otherwise. “My room is just utterly charming, but it’s not what I was envisioning.”

I tense. “Oh? What were you looking for, ma’am?” Yeah, I deliberately use the word ma’am, enjoying the way she flinches.

She pouts for a moment, but then her expression returns to a neutral position, and I can’t help thinking she must’ve reminded herself that scowling leads to wrinkles. She seems like the type to be worried about that, though she can’t be more than a few years older than me.

“It’s just so quaint. I was hoping for water bottles, mints on the pillows, and fur blankets.”

I manage a tight smile. “I’m of the opinion that the only creatures who need fur are the ones born with it.”

She wrinkles her nose. “How extraordinary. You must have never had an ermine coat. My mother and father gave me one for my college graduation gift. It’s quite warm and beautiful. I didn’t bring it to this location though. I can’t imagine anywhere in your small little town that would be right for wearing such a coat.”

I maintain a pleasant smile, though I’d really like to invite her to leave our town if she doesn’t enjoy it. The reminder that I can’t afford to lose her booking or have a bad review keeps the smile on my face. “I’m afraid I can’t accommodate fur blanket requests. I don’t have any.”

“What about mints on the pillows?”

I mentally juggle my afternoon schedule, trying to figure if I have time to make a quick run the grocery store to pick up Andes mints. That’s probably not the kind she’s talking about, but they’ll have to do. “I believe I can accommodate that request.”

“Excellent, and what about water bottles?”

I frown. “There should have been a couple of bottles in your welcome pack, along with a bottle of sparkling cider and a tin of locally harvested and roasted nuts.”

She lets out a trilling laugh that’s as patently false as her boobs. “Oh, silly, I mean a hot water bottle like you read about in the Victorian novels.”

My eyes widen, and I struggle to hide my irritation. There’s nowhere in our advertising materials that we even hint at being a Victorian experience. I try to maintain a pleasant expression and not sound too condescending as I open my mouth to reply.

Before I can do so, I see Jace passing by, and his steps slow. I look away from him and back at Cindy Knowles. Her name pops into my had like a flash of lightning. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Knowles, but I don’t have anything like that. It’s my understanding they were copper and heated in the fire or something? It sounds like a liability my insurance would never cover.”

She rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion. “I’m not talking about authentic ones, of course. Surely you must be able to put hot water in a vessel though.”

“I could arrange a heating pad or a heated blanket.”

She frowns at me. “That’s not at all what I have in mind. It’s so modern. This is a quaint little trip to get away from the stresses of everyday life. I’m certain my husband must’ve mentioned that when he made the booking.”

I have a lot of bookings, with about eighty percent handled online, so I can’t pick out her husband among them. I squint for a minute as I struggle to remember. “I seem to recall a woman made the reservation. It wasn’t you?”

She waves a hand. “That must have been his assistant.” She sounds put-out. “He promised me he’d make all the arrangements himself as my Christmas present.” She blinks for a moment, appearing to be genuinely upset, and I soften toward her.

Any hint of sympathy disappears when her gaze turns predatory as Jace joins us. He smiles at me, and I somehow manage to force a smile in return. Thoughts of still being attracted to him linger in my mind, and that tempers my urge to respond even more than usual. He’s lucky I don’t scowl at him, though he’d be completely confused if I did, I’m sure.

“Is there something I can do to help, Alexis?”

I shake my head at him.” Thank you, but no.”

He looks at my cleaning trolley. “Do you need some help with the rooms?”

Cindy turns to him. “You work here?” She makes it sound as unlikely as the Queen of England choosing to book a room at my quaint and charming little B&B. Gag.

“No. I’m a friend of Alexis’s, but I’m also a guest here. I was just offering to help out.”

Cindy turns to him, almost completely forgetting about me, which should be a relief, except she seems to be stalking Jace now, and it raises my hackles, though I have no reason to feel protective of him. I refuse to label it as anything else.

“I could certainly use your help. I’m trying to track down hot water bottles. I thought this would be a quaint and charming little visit, but she doesn’t even have hot water bottles.”

Deciding to leave Jace to it, since he foolishly asked to help, and I have no more patience to deal with Cindy and her bizarre requests, I roll the trolley into the next room and start cleaning. This time, I’m picturing Cindy’s face as I scrub the toilets.

It’s satisfying to imagine pushing her face into the bowl and pressing the flush button a few times. I wonder what she looks like without all that makeup. Maybe I should offer her a facial as part of her stay? I could tell her it’s the new quaint and charming facial as I push her face into the bowl and flush, flush, flush.

I chuckle at the thought, and it eases my irritation. By the time I finish cleaning that room and move on to the next one, where I meet Barb in the bathroom as we did the day before, I’m in a better mood.

That lasts all of five minutes, until I’m downstairs again and walk in on the unpleasant sight of Cindy draped awfully close to Jace, practically hanging on him. I wonder where Mr. Knowles is, and I make a mental note to check the reservations to find out if he’s staying with us as well. I absolutely refuse to label the burning sensation in my chest as anything like jealousy while I watch them interact.

Cindy’s clearly smitten with Jace, and she’s leaning against him and laughing in that fake way some women do. Her voice carries, and I hear her absolutely insisting that Jace must be her guide for cross-country skiing in the area. I struggle not to eavesdrop, but I’m not quite disciplined enough to avoid it. I strain to hear as Jace tells her about the various sites around Sage Valley.

Even though he’s been gone a decade, he clearly remembers the highlights. It’s more than I can stand, imagining him showing her them in person, and I return upstairs. I don’t really need to vacuum the hallway or the little sitting room at the end of the hallway that’s available for all the guests, since I did it just yesterday, but I plug in the vacuum and start pressing hard against the knockoff Persian carpet.

It only looks like it’s expensive, but Layne got a heck of a deal on it. I’m busy struggling to suppress any feelings I don’t want to acknowledge when someone taps on my shoulder. I expect it to be a guest, so I turn with a smile that melts off my face as soon as I see Jace. I frown at him instead. With a press of my foot against the button, the vacuum powers down, and I put a hand on my hip. “What do you want?”

His eyes widen. “I was just seeing if you need any help?”

“You’re busy helping Cindy.” I say in a sickening-sweet tone. “Did you come to get your ski gear?”

He frowns, his confusion apparent. “I didn’t bring any ski gear with me.”

“Perhaps you can rent some. I’m certain Cindy will have to as well, since she wants you to be her cross-country ski guide.” My words are dripping with malice now.

His frown deepens. “I gently refused her request.”

My eyes widened. “Really? I’m certain you could manage to get her in your bed before her husband arrives.” He wasn’t there when she checked in, but I don’t know if he’s joining her. If he is, I can’t imagine Cindy being so free with her flirtations.

His eyes widen, and there’s a moment where he almost seems like he’s about to say, “Aha.” A slow grin creeps over his lips as he suddenly pulls me into his arms. His mouth presses on mine, and I gasp in shock.

That’s the opening he must be looking for because his tongue sweeps in my mouth to taste me. I’m still in shock at the whole experience, but the shock doesn’t keep my body from relaxing against his as my tongue strokes his in return. We devour each other for a second before I realize what the heck I’m doing, and with another gasp of outrage, step back.

It’s a little too late to pretend to be the injured party, since I was kissing back just as enthusiastically, but I don’t let that stop me as I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “What in the world are you doing?”

He points to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway of the sitting room. “It’s tradition.”

I can’t help letting out a little screech of anger. “That must be six feet away from us. It’s not tradition to kiss in the vicinity of mistletoe. You’re supposed to be standing right under it. So again, I ask what you’re doing?”

Without answering, Jace starts walking toward the sitting room. I unplug the vacuum cleaner and wrap the cord in jerky motions. He’s leaning against the wall, and I’m still angry. More than that, but I refuse to acknowledge the other feelings whirling through me. I march after him, intent on getting an answer. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”