The Daddy Wish. Brenda Harlen
would be good.” He stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the message he read. “But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently a storm has moved into this area. I just got a notification from the airline that our flight has been delayed.”
She pulled out her phone and found that she’d received the same message. “There has to be a mistake—the forecast was clear.”
“Then the forecast was wrong.”
She halted beside him at the glass doors and blinked, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Or rather not seeing, since the blowing snow made it impossible to see anything past it.
Nate was focused on his phone, checking for updates from the airline. “All flights are canceled for the next twelve hours.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” She couldn’t help but think of the promise she’d made to Dylan that morning.
“Find a hotel,” he said easily. “Hopefully one that isn’t too far away from where we are right now.”
“A hotel?” she echoed.
“Unless you want to bunk down here?”
“Of course not.” What she wanted was to be back in Charisma, in her own apartment with her son—not stranded in St. Louis, and especially not with a man who made her feel nothing but heat despite the obviously frigid temperatures outside.
“There’s a Courtland not too far from here,” he said. “Let me just give them a call and see if we can get a room.”
“Two rooms.”
But the room situation wasn’t really her biggest concern—nor was the fact that she hadn’t packed an overnight bag. She was more worried about the fact that she hadn’t packed anything for Dylan. Of course, her ex-husband knew that Mrs. Hanson, the widow who lived across the hall from Allison and Dylan, had a spare key and could let him in to get whatever he needed. She just wasn’t sure that Jeff would know what their son needed.
Did he know that Dylan had specific pajamas that he liked to wear when he stayed at his dad’s house? Would he remember to pack Bear, the little boy’s ancient and much-loved teddy bear? Would he make sure that Dylan did his homework? Would he remember to pack his lunch for the next day? She worried about all of those details while Nathan made a phone call to secure their hotel rooms.
Less than five minutes later, they battled the blowing snow and howling wind toward their rental car in the parking lot. Despite the wild weather, Nate went around to the passenger side to open the door for her, an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture that reminded her there was more to the man than his reputation implied.
She slid into her seat and buckled up, aware that the roads were going to be icy and slick—and still not nearly as dangerous as spending the night in a hotel with Nathan Garrett.
It took nearly twenty-five minutes to travel the six miles between the store and the hotel.
And for every single one of those minutes, Allison was grateful that Nate was behind the wheel. She considered herself a good driver, but she had little experience driving on snow-covered roads and absolutely no experience navigating unfamiliar streets in whiteout conditions.
As Nathan eased to a stop at a red light, he glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“You’re clutching your bag so tight your knuckles are white and you haven’t said a word since we pulled out of the parking lot.”
“I wanted you to be able to focus on the roads.”
“I’ve driven in worse,” he assured her.
“Really?”
“I went to New York University,” he said.
“You have to be crazy to drive in New York City on a good day.”
“A little bit,” he agreed, easing into the intersection when the light turned green.
“There’s the hotel,” Allison said, recognizing the distinctly scripted C that was the Courtland trademark.
He pulled into the underground parking garage and found a vacant spot. “At least we won’t have to brush snow off in the morning.”
“I’m hoping it will all be melted by the morning.”
“That’s definitely wishful thinking,” he told her. “But as long as the storm has passed, we’ll get home tomorrow.”
She nodded and followed him to the elevator.
“Ever checked into a hotel without a suitcase before?” he asked her.
“No,” she said, just a little primly.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Does it make you feel like you’re on your way to an illicit rendezvous?”
“No,” she said again, because that was something she definitely did not want to be thinking about. “I don’t do things like that.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
He flashed that tingle-inducing smile. “Too bad.”
When the elevator opened up on the main level of the hotel, he went directly to the check-in desk and spoke to the woman behind the counter. The name on her tag was Sheila, and she smiled warmly at Nate.
Part of the customer service or proof of the effect that he had on all females? And why should she care? He could flirt with the desk clerk and every other female in a ten-block radius, if he wanted—and he probably did. She just wanted to get to her room to make a phone call.
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