Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Around seven o’clock, I went downstairs to the front desk to check in with the reception manager since Louis was off today. While I was there, a messenger delivered a package, and I overheard the bellman say to one of the employees, “I’m going to run this up to Mr. Lockwood. I’ll be back in five minutes, in case anyone’s looking for me.”
The clerk nodded. “No problem. I’ll keep an eye on your station.”
I walked over and interjected, “Mr. Lockwood is out of town. But he has a mail bin in the manager’s office in the back.”
The clerk looked confused. “Did he leave again? I saw him a few hours ago.”
“You saw Weston today?”
She nodded. “He came in about eleven this morning with his luggage.”
What the hell? He’s back? Where the heck had he been all day, and why hadn’t he called me like he was supposed to?
I forced a smile and extended my hand to the bellman. “I’ll take it up to him. I didn’t realize he was back, and I have some reports to drop off also.”
I stewed the entire ride up to the eighth floor. What the hell was his problem? If he wanted to back away from whatever was going on between us personally, that was one thing. But I’d told him I had business to discuss, and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to let me know he was back in town?
At his door, I took a deep breath and knocked. The entire floor was quiet, including his room. After a minute or two and no sign of Weston, I wondered if maybe the clerk had made a mistake. Sighing, I headed back to the elevator with his package. But when the silver doors slid open, guess who was inside?
“You’re back?” I said.
Weston stepped off the elevator. “Do you need something?”
“Did you get in this morning?”
“Closer to lunchtime. Maybe a little before noon.”
“Where were you?”
“In Florida. I told you that the other day.”
“No, I mean all afternoon. I came by your office earlier, and the door was shut.”
He looked away. “I had a lot of work to do, so I kept it closed.”
I squinted at him. “I thought you were going to call me when you got in.”
He continued to avoid my eyes. “I was?”
“Yes, remember? I texted you the other day and said I wanted to discuss a delivery issue.”
The adjacent second elevator doors dinged and slid open. A woman from housekeeping wheeled a cart out, and we all exchanged pleasantries. She parked her cart outside a guest room two doors down from the elevator and propped the door open.
I looked at Weston, waiting for his answer.
He shrugged. “It must’ve slipped my mind. What’s up?”
The maid went in and out of the nearby room, bringing in sheets and taking out garbage, and I didn’t want to have this conversation in the hall.
“Do you think we can have this discussion in your room?”
Weston seemed to hesitate a moment, but he nodded. We walked to his room together in awkward silence. I wasn’t sure what was up, but I was now certain something was.
Inside his room, the first thing I noticed was the enormous flower arrangement sitting on the desk. It was still wrapped in paper, but it had the logo of Park Florist stamped all over it.
“Flowers?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you have a secret admirer?”
He walked over to the minibar and grabbed a water. “I…uh…tried to deliver them to a guest for the bellman the other day right before I left for my trip. But the guest had checked out early. I was running late, so I just left them in here. I need to toss them.”
“Oh really? That would be such a shame. What kind of flowers are they?”
Well, I’d learned one thing about Weston today. He was a really shitty liar. He couldn’t seem to meet my eyes every time he spewed another one.
He shrugged. “Not sure. I didn’t look.”
I stared at him until he returned my gaze.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just seems like a shame to throw out perfectly good flowers. Maybe I’ll take them. I love flowers.” I was really enjoying screwing with him, so I added, “Unless they’re dahlias. I’m not a fan, and they make me sneeze.”
Weston had looked away again, but now his eyes came back to mine. I watched as the wheels in his head turned, trying to decide how to proceed.
In the end, he went with cautiously. “Dahlias only?”
I flashed a smile somewhere between smug and friendly, which only added to his confusion. “Yup. Just dahlias. In fact, the blackberry ripple variety are the absolute worst. I just sneeze and sneeze and sneeze…”
His already-squinting eyes narrowed even more. So I widened my smile and upped the ante.
Walking over to the flowers on the other side of the room, I fingered the card still stapled to the paper wrapping. “You weren’t even curious what the card said?”