He put the SUV in park. “I’ll go in.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be alone out here.” I looked around—nothing but snow-covered evergreens surrounded the motel. “We’re in the middle of the woods. Someone with an axe could jump in the car and abduct me.”
He laughed. “The way you jabber, they’d bring you right back.”
We got out of the car and entered the lobby, which was small and shabby, but clean and tidy. It even smelled nice, like hot chocolate. The grandmotherly lady behind the desk looked up in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Did you decide not to cancel?”
“Cancel?” I glanced back at Gianni, but he looked as confused as I was.
“Are you the Witherspoons?” she asked.
“Depends,” Gianni said. “Does that mean we could have a room for the night?”
“Two rooms,” I put in. I wasn’t about to spend the night in a confined space with Gianni Lupo.
“Oh, dear. We definitely don’t have two rooms,” said the woman, whose name tag read Rose. “In fact, an hour ago, we were totally booked. But we just had a cancellation.”
“We’ll take it.” Gianni pulled out his wallet. “You take credit cards?”
“Of course, dear.” Rose tapped a few keys on her computer. “How many nights?”
“One.”
“Dreadful storm, isn’t it?” Rose clucked her tongue. “I hear we might get two feet of snow! Of course, sometimes they say that, and we barely get anything at all.”
While Gianni arranged the reservation, I wandered away from the desk and checked out the photos hanging on the lobby walls—groups of smiling cross-country skiers captured in black and white, families enjoying lunch at picnic tables, kids splashing around in the shallow end of the swimming poo, squinting in the sun. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I shivered.
Gianni came up behind me. “You cold?”
“Yes.” I turned to face him. “It’s freezing in here.”
“Yeah, Rose said they’re having a slight issue with the heat.”
“Even in the rooms?”
“I think so.”
“Great.”
“Also, the television in that room doesn’t work.” He grinned. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm and entertained.”
“Do we have a key?”
“Yeah. We’re number thirteen,” he said as we headed for the door. “I think that means I’ll get lucky tonight.”
“Think again,” I told him.
We got back in the car and drove to the end of the single-story building. A minute later, I stood shivering while Gianni tucked his gloves between his knees and fumbled with the lock on the dark green door to room 13. “Hurry up,” I said. “My toes are already numb.”
“Sorry. This thing is sticky.” But then it clicked—Gianni pushed it open and gestured for me to go in first.
The room was dark, so I couldn’t see anything until Gianni shut the door and switched on the light.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I stared at the lone bed opposite the door, sandwiched between two small tables in a room that could generously be called quaint.
Gianni stood next to me. “Damn. That’s a small bed. Is it . . . a queen?”
“Not even. I think it’s a full.”
Gianni looked around. “There’s no couch.”
My eyes wandered over the rest of the room. Pretty much everything was pine—the furniture, the walls, the floor. The bed was made up with white sheets, with a thick buffalo plaid blanket lying across the foot. Above the headboard was a window covered with curtains that matched the blanket. Along the wall on the right was a tiny two-burner stove, a small sink, a mini refrigerator, and about two feet of counter with two drawers and open cupboards beneath it. A second window looked out onto the parking lot, and in front of it was a tiny table with two wooden chairs. But no couch or anything one of us could sleep on.
We’d have to share the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Gianni said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d freeze.” I gestured to the bare floorboards. “There isn’t even a rug. We can be adults about it and share the bed.”
“Can we cuddle?”
“No.” I shivered again. “God, it’s fucking arctic in here.”
“I can try turning up the heat.” Gianni tossed his gloves on a small table to the left of the door, set down his bag, and looked around for the thermostat.