The Unexpected Honeymoon. Barbara Wallace
“I’ll check the property myself.”
“Thank you.” She looked to the general manager, who hadn’t said a word since bursting on the scene. At first, she blamed the silence on annoyance, but now that she looked closer, she saw that he’d gotten lost in thought. Distance allowed her to see past the shutters, revealing the haunted sadness she remembered from last night. A sympathetic ache curled through her stomach. He didn’t seem the kind of man who would look so lost, and yet at the moment, lost was exactly the word she’d use.
“I didn’t mean to cause a big scene,” she said, raising her voice. Partly to let Jorge hear her and partly to shake Chavez from his thoughts. “When I called housekeeping, I didn’t expect an entire army to show up.”
“We were in the area.”
“They said it was an emergency.”
Both men spoke at the same time. Because it was the first Señor Chavez spoke since entering, Larissa turned her focus to him. He’d shaken off whatever ghost captured his attention and returned to scrutinizing with such ferocity you’d think she’d committed a crime, rather than been a victim. “It was an emergency to me,” she said, defensiveness rising. “You all might be accustomed to finding poisonous spiders in your bathrooms, but I’m not.”
“Contrary to popular belief, tarantulas aren’t deadly. At best, you’d get a slight fever.”
“Good to know. I’ll sleep much better knowing if one does decide to bite me, I won’t die.” His blunt tone surprised her. What happened to the exceedingly polite, do-anything-to-please-the-guest manager she met this morning? This man seemed far more intent in glaring at her. She didn’t understand the change, since she swore when he first burst into the room she saw real live fear on his face.
“No sign of any hairy friends,” Jorge announced, returning to the doorway. “I’ll have Pedro do a more thorough search and wash down the outside walls to make certain. I’m sorry for your discomfort.”
“Me, too. Now I’ll be looking everywhere for creepy crawlies my entire vacation.”
“We can still switch you to a different suite, if you’d like.”
“That really isn’t necessary.” A new room wouldn’t stop her from tiptoeing every time she stepped through the door. A thought occurred to her. “Although, I wouldn’t complain about having something taken off my bill. I mean, since my ability to relax has been compromised.” Laying it on a bit thick, but seeing how she was in the hole for seventy percent of her wedding, every little bit helped. She arched a brow in Señor Chavez’s direction, hoping he’d take the hint.
Instead, the man turned and spoke to his assistant in Spanish. Larissa didn’t understand a word of their conversation, but she noticed Jorge’s expression soften as he touched his boss’s shoulder.
“I’m going to find Pedro,” Jorge said after a moment. “If there’s anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable...”
“I’ll let you know,” Larissa replied. She had a feeling she’d be able to parrot the phrase by the end of the week.
“Guess I’m not doing well when it comes to being low-maintenance,” she quipped once Jorge left.
The manager didn’t crack even the hint of a smile. “I’ll take another ten percent off your reception bill.”
Looked like she owed the tarantula a thank-you note. “Too bad his friends weren’t around. I might have gotten the costs knocked off the bill completely. I’m joking,” she added at his continued glare. “Nothing would be worth having five or six of those suckers crawling on my walls. One was bad enough.”
“You do realize you were never in any real danger. There was no need to tell housekeeping you had an emergency.”
“I didn’t.” Was that why he was angry? Okay, so her voice might have been high-pitched and panicked-sounding, and she might have asked that they get to her room “right away,” but she never used the word emergency. “It’s not my fault your housekeeping staff takes panicked tarantula calls seriously. Is that why you came back? Because you thought I was in danger?”
“I was told it was an emergency.”
A point he seemed incredibly intent on repeating. “Emergency could mean anything. It could mean a broken water faucet. What made you think something happened to me?”
He didn’t answer. Rather he strode to the large window on the far end of the bathroom. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked out the large window at the mangrove trees waving in the breeze. For a moment, Larissa thought he’d pulled inward again. “How’s your headache?” he asked.
“Better. Manageable.” What did that have to do with anything?
“And your mood?”
“Well, until Hairy the Spider showed up, I was planning on soaking myself into a better one. Why?”
“You were pretty upset when I left.”
“I was annoyed because I’m stuck paying for a wedding I’m not going actually have. Wouldn’t you be? I still don’t get what that has to do with—” Seeing him wash a hand over his features, a horrible thought hit her. “Don’t tell me you thought I—”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to think,” he said, turning from the window. “When I left you were shaky, upset, stumbling around. Any number of things could have happened. You could have slipped and fallen, cut yourself on a broken glass....”
“Thrown myself off the balcony.”
“It’s not funny,” he snapped. “Distressed people behave unpredictably.”
So they did. But, considering his over the top reaction, Larissa had also managed to touch a nerve. She regretted the remark. “I’m sorry.”
“I am the one who should be sorry, Señorita Boyd. I overreacted. Hotel managers never like hearing there’s an emergency situation. The word is somewhat of a hot button, I’m afraid.”
Something about his expression, the way he avoided looking in her direction, said Larissa wasn’t getting the complete answer. “Have you ever had a guest...you know?”
“A guest? No.”
But someone. He’d avoided her gaze again. Larissa suddenly felt very, very bad about giving him a hard time. “I thought we decided you were going to call me Larissa.”
“So we did. And you should call me Carlos.”
“Fair deal. Thank you for saving me from the big mean spider, Carlos.”
“Housekeeping saved you, but you’re welcome anyway,” he replied with a smile. Finally. While he didn’t look completely relaxed, the shadows had receded from his features. Larissa was surprised to feel her own spine loosening as well.
Suddenly, it dawned on her that she’d held this entire conversation while curled up on the bathroom vanity. Slowly, she straightened one leg at a time, wincing at the stiffness in her kneecaps.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Carlos asked.
“Awhile. I was afraid to move past the spider, so I climbed up here to call housekeeping.”
“Tarantulas don’t jump.”
“I didn’t want to take any chances.” She swung her legs, trying to get back her circulation. Her joints clicked with the movement, sending sharp jolts across her kneecap. “Looks like I’m going to need that soak more than ever now.”
“Would you like some help getting down?”
“I’ve got it.” She scooted her bottom forward, so that when she dropped, she wouldn’t land with much force. When she reached the edge, her feet still dangled six inches or so from the