Every time Michael and his partner glided past them, however, her smile vanished and her eyes shot daggers of disdain.
Isabel would never forget dancing with Noah. The fact that he was a gorgeous, sexy man might have something to do with that. She had a terrific crush on him for a while, but that wore off shortly after the wedding when she learned that Noah and Dylan’s sister Jordan had fallen in love and were getting married. Now Noah and Jordan were two of Isabel’s favorites in the Buchanan clan, and she couldn’t wait to see them again. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to seeing Michael, though. She hadn’t forgiven him and imagined he was still a rude boor. If luck was on her side, he wouldn’t be at Nathan’s Bay. He was a Navy SEAL, and surely they never got time off. Besides, he lived in San Diego or somewhere in Virginia, didn’t he? And hadn’t he been deployed? Or was he already back from that stint? Isabel couldn’t ask Dylan about his brother because he might want to know why she was interested.
Since she wasn’t in the mood to put up with Michael’s rudeness, the Hamilton was the answer.
She quickly texted Kate and told her she didn’t want to put anyone out, and so she was going to take one of the rooms Kate had reserved.
She immediately perked up. She absolutely adored the Hamilton hotels. They were a chain of luxury hotels owned by the family of Kate’s sister-in-law. When Isabel was in high school, she had stayed at the Chicago Hamilton while she checked out a couple of universities in the area, and she’d also stayed one night with Kate at the Hamilton in Boston. They were five-star hotels with their own unique personalities. No matter the location, you knew you were in the Hamilton the second you walked through the doors. Everything about them was aesthetically pleasing. If any hotel was suited for a special occasion, it was the Hamilton. The beds were fabulous, the staff catered to their guests’
every need, and the food was outstanding. So were the fitness center and spa. Tomorrow she would go up and check out all the machines. Not today, though. She was determined to go outside and take a long walk to get in sync with the city she so loved. Boston was expensive, but if she had the money, she would move there in a heartbeat.
Okay, time to focus on the here and now. Be in the moment. That’s what her sisters were constantly telling her to do. She hurried to baggage claim, retrieved her checked luggage, spotted her driver holding up a sign with her name on it, and headed in his direction, all but dragging her backpack behind her.
The driver introduced himself and collected her luggage. His name was Woodson, and on the way to the limo she chatted with him, or rather listened as he launched into his concerns about his new girlfriend flirting with other men. Isabel wasn’t the least surprised or caught off guard to hear the man’s personal problems. The truth was, she expected it. Strangers unloaded their worries on her all the time, usually within five minutes of meeting her. Being a sounding board was a peculiar trait, she supposed. At least that’s what she had often been told by family and friends, but she was used to strangers pouring their hearts out and sharing intimate details of their lives with her. She never offered advice and they never asked for any. She took it all in stride, figuring they simply needed someone to listen to them.
At her request Woodson placed her backpack on the seat beside her, and while he continued to talk, she pulled out her navy blue windbreaker. The thin-as-air nylon jacket had a hood and zippered pockets. She put her wallet in one pocket and her cell phone in the other. Continuing to nod every now and then so Woodson would know she was paying attention to what he was telling her, she stuffed her purse and her baseball cap in the bag and zipped it closed.
Traffic was a snarled mess. There must have been an accident on I-90, she thought, until she checked the time and realized they were in the middle of rush hour. The plane trip had seemed interminable, and now the ride to the hotel was taking forever. She had been sitting so long she was surprised she didn’t have bed sores.
Woodson’s voice cracked. He sounded as though he was about to cry, which she was sure would embarrass him, and so she tried to help him think about something other than his girlfriend.
“How long have you worked for the Hamilton?” she blurted.
He paused for a few seconds and then answered, “Oh, I don’t work for the hotel. I’m employed by a service the Hamilton sometimes uses when their limos are busy.” He added, “The more good reviews I get, the better my chances are to move up in the company I work for now.”
She took the hint and promised to give him a rave review.