A Holiday Snowdown

Part 12

The sun shines brightly when you wake the next morning. Jungkook and Seokjin head out for an early run on the slopes – a snowstorm is coming according to the local weatherman, so you'll need to have guests inside before dinner.

Passing behind the front desk, you take off your snow boots and slip into heels. Most of the patio furniture has been secured, except for the ones being currently used by the guests. Yoongi is busy checking in a large group, so you hurry to the counter and put on a bright smile.

"How can I help you?" you ask the next person in line.

An older man in a bright-orange parka steps around his suitcase.

"Hi, there!" he says with a smile. "My wife and I are checking in. Last name is Henderson."

His wife, staying behind with the bags, offers a wave. You smile, then busy yourself at the computer. Once their paperwork and deposit have been received, you reach below the desk to hand them their key.

"These are yours," you instruct. "You'll be in room twenty-nine, which is upstairs and down the hall to your left. Elevators are ahead. Do you need any help with your bags?"

"Oh, no – no," the man says, turning towards his wife. "Still enough gumption in me yet. Have a nice day!"

They exit the lobby, and once they've disappeared, you check the screen to see how many more people have yet to come in. As much as you hate to admit, Jungkook's presence has increased your sales tenfold. Currently, you're sold out through February and things don't seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

Okay, maybe you don't hate to admit it. Jungkook has proven himself to be exactly the opposite of who you thought he was. His kiss continues to linger in your mind – his uneven breathing, the way his chest rose and fell. How he had to physically pull away, rather than move things any further than would be smart.

When you do let him in, it might ruin you.

Letting Jungkook in would change everything and strangely enough, you think you might want that. You've been stuck in the same place for so long now, too terrified of being hurt to take any chances and maybe that was okay five years ago, but now –

"Excuse me?"

Head snapping upward, you realize a guest is standing before you.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you say, straightening. "How can I help?"

Exhaling deeply, the woman rolls her eyes.

Minutely, your smile tightens. High maintenance. Years spent in the service industry have taught you the signs. Contrary to popular belief, it's not always the people wearing designer labels who suck. It's those who have a certain air, a certain look, a certain my time is worth more than your time attitude.

"I'm here to check in," she says – slowly, as though you might be hard of hearing.

Nodding once, you pull up the reservation list. "Last name?"

"Really?" She stares.

Fingers pausing on the keyboard, you look up again. The woman has that over-tanned, over-coiffed look that's popular on the west coast, but you honestly have no idea who she is.

Yoongi's disappeared, otherwise you'd call him over. Something about his demeanor makes even the most narcissistic starlets drop their attitude.

"I'm sorry," you apologize, not knowing what for. "I need a last name and ID to complete the check-in process. Hotel policy."

The woman rolls her eyes, fishing around in her Birkin bag for her wallet. Pulling out a Nevada driver's license, she plunks this down on the counter along with her black card.