skinny jeans and has just buckled her belt when a knock sounds at her door. “Mrs. Doyle?”
Her bare feet whisper across the ornamental rug as she opens the door to find a bellman waiting for her. She smiles politely. “Actually, that was my mother. I’m still a miss.”
“Pardon?” When the young man’s eyebrows rise, she can’t help but notice one is slightly more curved than the other, almost as if it were caused by a waxing gone wrong.
She stuffs down her chuckle and holds out her hand. “Were they able to save it?”
Muddy-brown eyes close for a split second as the bellman shifts from his left foot to the right. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, miss.”
“Please, call me Ashlyn.” She reaches out and unzips the black garment bag he holds aloft and reaches inside to stroke the arm of her coat. “And I’m referring to the life-threatening coffee stains that sent me racing to you for assistance, of course.”
The first hint of a smile makes the young man’s cheeks redden as he dips his head. “Oh, right. I knew that.”
“I’m sure you did.” She holds up a finger and dashes across the room to find her purse. Pound notes protrude from the top of her billfold. “Darn English money,” she mutters as she riffles though the various-sized bills.
“I’m afraid I’m a tad hopeless when it comes to understanding the conversion rates,” she calls as she holds out a colorful array of money. The man’s eyes widen in surprise as she places them in his hand.
“That’s far too much,” he sputters and tries to hand the stack of money back.
“Trust me, this will be entirely less awkward if you just take the money and say thank you.” She pushes his hands back with just enough force to make her wishes clear.
“Of course. Thank you, miss.” He holds out the garment bag to her.
Ashlyn’s cheeks warm at the man’s sincere excitement. This is one of the things she loves most about her job… being able to tip freely and generously. “And its Ashlyn, not miss, remember?”
The blush that creeps along his face highlights a light smattering of freckles along his nose and cheeks. “I’ll remember next time.”
With a small chuckle, Ashlyn closes the door behind her and lays her garment bag on the bed. She will check later to make sure the coffee stain from Friday morning has been properly removed, but for some reason, she doesn’t want to check just yet.
She had a dream about Slade Collins last night. A rather blush-enhancing dream to be exact.
For as long as she can remember, guys have never really captured her attention, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. She would look, maybe even allow herself to linger beyond what kissing a stranger might be like, but her fantasy life couldn’t even make a nun blush.
So why is it that she can’t shake Slade from her mind?
It was his eyes, her mind answers for her.
She’s always been a sucker for a good set of eyes. Not too deeply set in the face or unevenly proportioned or overly expressive. She always thought people who can express every emotion with their eyes are boring and painfully cliché. She likes mystery, the ability to stare into the depths of a man and not be fully certain of what he is thinking.
Slade confuses her. That confusion has only increased tenfold since she allowed Tamsin and Sophie to push her into what she fears will be the worst decision ever made. Today she will find out just how bad it really is.
She grabs a hair tie from beside her laptop and winds her hair up into a messy bun. The black smartphone on her dresser begins to vibrate behind her, skittering across the polished cherry wood surface. Ashlyn sighs and crosses the room to answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Please tell me you’re already on your way.”
Leaning her hip against her dresser, Ashlyn laughs. “That screeching voice sounds dangerously familiar…”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Ashlyn can hear the rapid
Her bare feet whisper across the ornamental rug as she opens the door to find a bellman waiting for her. She smiles politely. “Actually, that was my mother. I’m still a miss.”
“Pardon?” When the young man’s eyebrows rise, she can’t help but notice one is slightly more curved than the other, almost as if it were caused by a waxing gone wrong.
She stuffs down her chuckle and holds out her hand. “Were they able to save it?”
Muddy-brown eyes close for a split second as the bellman shifts from his left foot to the right. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, miss.”
“Please, call me Ashlyn.” She reaches out and unzips the black garment bag he holds aloft and reaches inside to stroke the arm of her coat. “And I’m referring to the life-threatening coffee stains that sent me racing to you for assistance, of course.”
The first hint of a smile makes the young man’s cheeks redden as he dips his head. “Oh, right. I knew that.”
“I’m sure you did.” She holds up a finger and dashes across the room to find her purse. Pound notes protrude from the top of her billfold. “Darn English money,” she mutters as she riffles though the various-sized bills.
“I’m afraid I’m a tad hopeless when it comes to understanding the conversion rates,” she calls as she holds out a colorful array of money. The man’s eyes widen in surprise as she places them in his hand.
“That’s far too much,” he sputters and tries to hand the stack of money back.
“Trust me, this will be entirely less awkward if you just take the money and say thank you.” She pushes his hands back with just enough force to make her wishes clear.
“Of course. Thank you, miss.” He holds out the garment bag to her.
Ashlyn’s cheeks warm at the man’s sincere excitement. This is one of the things she loves most about her job… being able to tip freely and generously. “And its Ashlyn, not miss, remember?”
The blush that creeps along his face highlights a light smattering of freckles along his nose and cheeks. “I’ll remember next time.”
With a small chuckle, Ashlyn closes the door behind her and lays her garment bag on the bed. She will check later to make sure the coffee stain from Friday morning has been properly removed, but for some reason, she doesn’t want to check just yet.
She had a dream about Slade Collins last night. A rather blush-enhancing dream to be exact.
For as long as she can remember, guys have never really captured her attention, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. She would look, maybe even allow herself to linger beyond what kissing a stranger might be like, but her fantasy life couldn’t even make a nun blush.
So why is it that she can’t shake Slade from her mind?
It was his eyes, her mind answers for her.
She’s always been a sucker for a good set of eyes. Not too deeply set in the face or unevenly proportioned or overly expressive. She always thought people who can express every emotion with their eyes are boring and painfully cliché. She likes mystery, the ability to stare into the depths of a man and not be fully certain of what he is thinking.
Slade confuses her. That confusion has only increased tenfold since she allowed Tamsin and Sophie to push her into what she fears will be the worst decision ever made. Today she will find out just how bad it really is.
She grabs a hair tie from beside her laptop and winds her hair up into a messy bun. The black smartphone on her dresser begins to vibrate behind her, skittering across the polished cherry wood surface. Ashlyn sighs and crosses the room to answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Please tell me you’re already on your way.”
Leaning her hip against her dresser, Ashlyn laughs. “That screeching voice sounds dangerously familiar…”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Ashlyn can hear the rapid
Similar Books
