Local Flavour: Big Apple (Book 3, the Local Flavour Series)

Part 6: Something Real

Lucy entered the impressive lobby of the inn, and immediately fell in love with the Wanderer's comfortable yet elegant atmosphere. She felt like she'd stepped into a charming Parisian boutique hotel. It was stylish but without pretension. Just Quinn's style.

She walked up to the front desk and was greeted by a friendly, impeccably dressed concierge. "Welcome to the Wanderer, Mrs. Allen," he said, sliding the key card across to her. She pocketed it with an amused smile.

"Thanks. And it's Ms. McLean," she corrected him.

When she looked up, a flush had coloured his cheeks and he looked pained. "Oh, I am so sorry! When Mr. Allen called, I could have sworn he said his wife would be joining him."

His wife?

Flushed with pleasure, Lucy reassured him. "Oh, it's fine! He is my..." She searched for the right word. "He's my boyfriend, so easy mistake to make." 'Boyfriend' seemed so high school. Partner? Lover? Ick. No term seemed to quite sum up what Quinn meant to her. He was her everything — not that she would ever describe him that way to the hotel concierge.

He looked relieved. Despite her protests, he said he would send a complimentary bottle of champagne and fresh strawberries to the room. I like this place already.

Lucy made her way to the fifth floor, unlocked the heavy door and sighed as it snapped closed behind her. The room was large and lavish, dominated by a temptingly comfortable king-sized bed and a large, claw-foot tub right in the bedroom. Quinn would love that, even though it wasn't as big as his prized bathtub back home.

Smack in the middle of the bed was a beautifully wrapped box.

Excited, she dropped her bags and kicked off her shoes, her bare feet sinking into the plush, silky carpet. She crossed the room and picked up the present, shook it slightly then put it down. She read the tag. "You deserve something real — xx, Q"

This man.

It didn't matter what was in the box, he'd already made her feel wonderful. She snapped off the tag with the sweet note written in his messy scrawl and put it aside. She'd keep it, a reminder of that moment, and how special she felt without having seen the present.

She texted him. "OK, I'm ready. But I feel silly doing this."

Her phone chimed immediately, and she accepted the video chat. Quinn's handsome face filled the screen. "I planned on being there to see the look on your face, so this is the next best thing," he said.

"Alright," she said laughing, looking around for a place to position the phone so he could see, and propping it up on the dresser. "Why didn't you just wait and give it to me later?" She climbed onto the bed next to the present.

"I took off in such a hurry, I forgot to hide it," he said, with a sheepish look. "Go on. Open it."

"Alright, alright. Opening," she said, lifting the lid.

She knew what it was immediately. She gasped, pulling the bag slowly from the silky tissue paper and examining it with wonder. "A real Prada!" She could scarcely believe it. The right size, colour — and he'd had her initials engraved on it in gold.

She hugged it to herself. "It is absolutely perfect. You are perfect." She put the bag down and went to the phone so she could see him. "I wish you were here."

"Me too. So, you like it?"

"Like isn't the word." Embarrassed, she realized she had tears in her eyes. It wasn't that the present was expensive. It was the time and trouble he took to get it and the fact that he listened — really listened to her.