Snowstorms and Second Chances Page 2

  “Then why didn’t you do it yourself?” Erik asked testily. Bertram was an older bachelor with no family, so he had no plans to celebrate Christmas either. “I could have been on a goddamn Tahitian island right now, Bertram! Not stuck in fucking Buffalo.”

  He laughed uneasily. "I know. You have a better eye for potential though. I can crunch the numbers, but you have the intuition to tell what needs to be done."

  "Flattery isn't going to make me less pissed," Erik muttered as he glanced up at the signs and headed in the direction of baggage claim and ground transportation. He'd only packed a carry-on and his laptop bag, so he didn't need to retrieve anything. Just find a ride to the inn. "Can you at least call the car rental place and cancel our reservation? I've had at least three"—or is it four?—"Scotch since I landed, and I'm in no shape to drive, even in the best of weather."

  Bertram's uneasy laugh sent a shiver of apprehension through Erik. "About that ..."

  "What about it?"

  "Unfortunately, there's a problem with the reservations. Mary was out sick on the day they were supposed to get made and the temp apparently never did them."

  "Jesus Christ," Erik muttered as he rubbed his forehead. This entire trip was a nightmare. One he apparently couldn't wake up from. "Well, if I'm taking a cab or rideshare, I don't suppose it matters."

  "That's the spirit!"

  "Bertram, if you give me any more of your holiday spirit crap, I'm going to find the nearest Christmas ornament and shove it up your ass."

  Bertram let out a choked-sounding laugh. "I'm not into that kind of thing, Erik."

  "I wasn't asking nicely," he snarled. "Look, I'll go to the inn and make my assessment of the place, but the minute I'm done, I'm taking two fucking weeks off and going to Tahiti."

  "If it'll keep you from threatening me again, I'll agree to that," Bertram said with a laugh.

  "Happy fucking holidays," Erik muttered before he hit end call.

  Chapter Two

  Erik glared at the snow swirling furiously down outside as he watched the cars pulling up outside of the airport, collecting their passengers, then pulling away. None were for him.

  After an hour of waiting for a ride, Erik was ready to walk to Williamsville. Nearly every single cab and rideshare had already been snatched up by the harried travelers eager to get out of the airport. The few drivers who hadn’t already been hired weren’t interested in trekking all the way out to the village in this weather. He’d called around to limousine services and asked about town cars to no avail. He would have even considered taking a horse-drawn sleigh or dogsled if they existed. At this point, Erik was willing to take whatever he could get. If only it would get him to the inn.

  His head pounded from the lack of food—he really should have ordered something or taken Seth up on his offer of fries—and his stomach felt queasy from the alcohol.

  Sometime during the first twenty minutes of waiting, Bertram's information about the car rental being forgotten had sent a prickle of unease through Erik, and he'd called the Williamsville Inn to verify his reservation. Unfortunately, when he’d spoken to the receptionist, he'd found no reservation there either.

  He and Bertram often used fake names when evaluating properties like a hotel in order to get unbiased service. No point in seeing how the business was typically run if he only got their best behavior, after all. But there was no reservation under either of the false names he and Bertram typically used. And nothing under Bertram Forsythe or Erik Josef either.

  "There's nothing?" he asked.

  "I'm afraid not, sir." She sounded apologetic. "I’m honestly not sure what happened. I sincerely hope it wasn't an error on our part, but I have no record of any reservation being made under any of those names."

  He bit back the urge to snarl at her and let out an irritated sigh instead. "The error may have been on our end. We had a problem in our office with a temp. Do you have anything available now for tonight and tomorrow night?"

  "Well, we are extremely busy because of the holidays, the weather, and some renovations we’re undergoing, but let me see what’s still available," she said. "Yes, it looks like we do have something left. Is a room with two queen size beds acceptable?”

  “That will be fine. Thank you.”

  “May I get a name for the reservation?”

  “Erik. That’s E-r-i-k,” he spelled before he cried out in pain. A woman ran past him, dragging a teetering stack of wheeled luggage. The sharp stabbing pain going through his ankle must have been from it careening toward him and clipping his ankle. “Fuck!” He rubbed at his ankle with the top of his other foot, trying to make the throbbing go away.

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “Not you,” he managed. “I’m at the airport and just got run over by luggage. Where were we?”

  “I got your first name. Could I get a last?”

  “Of course. It’s, uhhh ...” He rubbed at the still-smarting spot, blanking out on the false name he usually used. Moore? Carver? “Cobb!” he said as the name popped into his head. That didn’t seem quite right, but it would do. “Erik Cobb,” he repeated.

  Where did I hear that name recently? he wondered. Oh well, it didn’t matter. It would work as long as he remembered it when he checked into the hotel. He finished up the reservation as quickly as possible, and after he hung up, he looked around. If anything, the number of people waiting near the baggage claim and the doors to the exit seemed to have grown. He sighed heavily, wondering how long he’d have to wait for a ride.

  Now, forty minutes later, he logged into one of the rideshare apps and entered his information again. Once again, no driver accepted the request. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He was just going to have to brave the cold and try to snag one of the taxis out front.

  Erik shrugged on his black cashmere coat before donning the gray scarf and hat he was suddenly grateful he’d packed. But when he wheeled his luggage out through the doors, the wind nearly knocked him off his feet.

  “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath as he battled the wind. “This is ridiculous. Tahiti, Bertram. I could have been in Tahiti.”

  A woman walking by eyed him out of the corner of her eye and he flushed. Great. Not only was he hungry, tired, and miserable, he looked like a lunatic too. Perfect. Not to mention his throbbing head and ankle. He was actually looking forward to the ride to the inn. At least, he’d have some peace and quiet to nurse his wounds and compose himself again.

  The line of cars slowly inched forward until a taxi pulled up next to him. Erik was beside it in an instant. He opened the door and poked his head into the cab. "Can you take me to the Williamsville Inn?”

  The driver frowned. "I dunno, man, that's a hell of a distance in this weather. And I won't be able to pick up anyone there so it's way out of my way."

  Erik rubbed his forehead. "I know. I'll throw in a generous tip if you'll take me. Hell, I’ll double the fare if that’s what it takes. I don’t care. I just need to get there."

  He sighed but nodded. "All right. Get in."

  "Thank you," Erik said. He grabbed his rolling suitcase by the handle and stuck it on the seat next to him. As he slid onto the seat beside it, he felt someone touch his arm. He turned to see Seth smiling at him.

  “Hey, Erik. I thought that was you. Did I hear you say you were heading to the Williamsville Inn?”

  “Yes.” He reached out to pull the door shut behind him, but Seth grabbed the handle.

  “I’m heading that way myself. Rides are in short supply now. Mind sharing yours?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Erik snapped. He yanked the door out of Seth’s grip to close it with a decisive slam. There would be no peace and quiet if he said yes.

  “Merry Christmas to you too,” Seth called back, loud enough to penetrate the glass.

  Erik resisted the urge to make a childish retort. He didn't owe a stranger anything. Erik was exhausted, still slightly drunk, and in no mood to deal with anyone right now, much l
ess a chatty guy intent on making friends. But Seth’s wounded look of reproachful disappointment followed Erik as the car pulled away from the curb.

  "Would have been cheaper for you to split the fare with that guy," the cabbie said.

  "I really don't care," Erik muttered. "I need the peace and quiet more. In fact, if you drive me to the inn without another word, I'll throw in an extra fifty."

  The cabbie's gaze met his in the mirror and he nodded once. Smart man.

  Erik closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the seat with a sigh. He dozed for a little while but was jolted abruptly awake when the car fishtailed on the icy road. Well, that wasn't good. He lifted his head and gazed out the window to see heavy white flakes of snow battering the car. Jesus. Forget a quiet ride, he was going to be lucky if he made it there in one piece.

  He couldn't rest after that, so he stared morosely out the window as the driver battled the wind and snow to keep it on the road.

  Merry fucking Christmas to him indeed.

  The lobby of the Williamsville Inn resembled a nightmare from 1962. It was even worse than the online pictures had led him to believe. It was far more than dated; the carpets were stained, the furniture was worn and threadbare, and the entire place was desperately in need of the promised renovations. He resisted the urge to send a text to Bertram saying: Sell it now.

  “Hello, sir, how may I help you?” the woman at the desk asked.

  “I called a little earlier from the airport,” he said as he approached. “Last name, uh, Cobb.”

  She typed in a few words, then smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Cobb. I see your reservation right here. It looks like you snagged our very last available room.”

  Erik checked in without incident, but as he walked away from the desk, a thought occurred to him and he turned back. “Oh, one more thing. My partner may be coming along behind me. He had some trouble with his flight getting canceled, but he was trying to get on another one. I have no idea when he’ll arrive, but he’ll need another keycard for the room when he does.” If there were no more rooms at the inn, he and Bertram would just have to share. Less than ideal but they’d make do. It didn’t make him any happier about this damned trip though. It seemed to be going from bad to worse.

  “No problem, sir. I’ll make a note of that, and we’ll take care of it.” The receptionist smiled brightly.

  He attempted to smile back, but it probably came off more like a grimace. “Thank you.”

  Unfortunately, the room was every bit as bad as he’d imagined, and he repressed a shudder at the thought of staying there for the next few days. But, also unfortunately, there was no getting out of it now. Nothing to do but make the best of it, he supposed.

  Erik unpacked carefully, hanging most of his clothing in the closet and placing the remainder in the drawers. At least, he wouldn’t look as run down as the building. He stowed the empty suitcase in the closet then debated if he should shower before he went in search of food.

  His rumbling stomach convinced him food was the priority.

  He returned to the lobby, laptop bag in tow. “Do you have food available here at the hotel?” he asked the clerk. Someone different than the person who’d checked him in. As long as they pointed him in the right direction, he really didn’t care who directed him to it.

  “A breakfast buffet is included,” she said with another friendly smile.

  “Is anything open now?”

  Her smile turned apologetic. “No. Not in the hotel. We don’t offer dinner service in our restaurant.”

  “Room service?”

  She shook her head.

  Erik suppressed a sigh, feeling the throbbing in his head increase. He really should have taken something for it. “Where is the nearest restaurant?”

  She directed him to a cafe half a block away, and now he did sigh. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of getting someone to drive me there?”

  “I’m afraid not. It is within walking distance though.”

  He looked down at his Italian leather shoes. So much for them. Between the snow and salt, they’d likely never recover from this trip. Pity. They were his favorite too. “You said turn left out of the hotel, and then it’s how far?”

  “Half a block,” she said helpfully. “You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” He buttoned his coat, then spotted his laptop bag at his feet. “Oh, do you have a safe you could put this in?” He held it up to show her.

  “Our safe isn’t big enough for that, but I could certainly place it in a locked cabinet in the office.”

  He probably should have left the computer in his room, but this place had seen better days and was clearly getting a bit seedy around the edges. “That’ll have to do.”

  Once Erik was fully bundled up, he struck out for the cafe. The walk was every bit as miserable as he’d feared, and by the time he pushed the door open, he was convinced he’d never feel his feet again. The warm air inside sent a pleasant shiver through him though, and once he was in a booth with his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, he felt slightly better. He ordered hot soup and a grilled sandwich. When they arrived, they were surprisingly decent and more than filled the hollow ache in his stomach and warmed him from the inside out. He got a container for the remainder of his sandwich but he delayed leaving, unenthusiastic about going outside in the storm again. It wasn’t until his phone battery dipped dangerously low that he paid his bill.

  When he stood, he noticed he was the last one there and that the waitress was stacking chairs on top of the tables. A mop bucket sat nearby. “I’m sorry,” he said to her. “Were you closing?”

  “Oh, in about twenty minutes. It’s too slow to stay open, and my husband is going to pick me up before the roads get even worse.”

  He wished her a good evening and wrapped himself up tightly against the cold again. The walk back to the hotel was worse than the trip there. The temperatures had dropped further, and he seemed to be walking directly into the wind this time. It stung his cheeks and sent snowflakes skittering under his collar, despite the tightly wound scarf.

  “Tahiti,” he grumbled to himself as he entered the hotel lobby.

  He tried not to glower at the woman at the desk when he retrieved his laptop, but he was still miserably cold by the time the elevator reached the third floor. His fingers were numb as he slid the keycard into the reader, desperately looking forward to a nice long, hot shower. And painkillers. His head was still throbbing.

  But when Erik pushed open the door, he was greeted by the sight of a half-naked man walking out of the bathroom.

  When he spotted Erik, he yelped and grabbed at the towel around his waist. Erik’s gaze traveled from the narrow hips, to a lean stomach, then over a chest covered in a substantial mat of dark, neatly trimmed hair. He finally landed on a firm jaw covered in an equally well-kept beard. When he saw the dark brown eyes, a jolt of recognition went through him. The guy from the airport bar.

  “Seth?” he said, blinking at him as he shut the door behind him.

  Seth tilted his head in confusion. “Erik?”

  “What did you do, follow me here and break into my hotel room?” Erik asked, feeling a sudden wave of fury wash over him at the invasion of his privacy.

  “What?” Seth gaped at him, and the towel around his waist dipped a little lower on his lean hips as he took a step forward. “No! I called around to at least a dozen hotels and this was the only one where I could get a reservation. And this is the room they assigned me.” He strode over to the dresser and held up the keycard envelope for Erik to see. “See? It says room 306 right there.”

  Erik stared down at the one in his hand. 306.

  “And why on earth would I do something like that anyway?” Seth gaped at him.

  “I don’t know,” Erik admitted with a sigh, setting the takeout container on the dresser and his laptop on the floor next to it.

  “Besides, how was I supposed to know this was your room? None of your stuff is here!” />
  Erik yanked open the closet doors and gestured to his neatly hung shirts and pants, and the nearly empty suitcase below it. “It’s all right here.”

  “Oh. I didn’t even open the closet when I got here.”

  “I see that,” Erik said drily as he looked around. “You seem to have spread your belongings around the entire room instead.”

  Seth flushed and raked a hand through his wet hair. “Sorry. I obviously wasn’t expecting anyone to be joining me.”

  “Your lack of tidiness is entirely beside the point. Come on, we need to get downstairs to get this situation straightened out immediately.” He reached out and grabbed Seth’s forearm, tugging him toward the door.

  Seth shook him off with a frown, then grabbed at the towel that was barely being held up by his narrow hips. “Can I at least put some clothes on?”

  “Oh, right.” Erik cleared his throat. “I’ll wait out in the hallway while you change.”

  He stood in the hall trying to process what had happened. He couldn’t forget the sight of Seth’s chest. His hair had looked so soft. It made Erik want to touch it. Odd. He’d never had that urge before, but now he wondered what it would feel like under his palms or against his own bare chest. A strange shiver skittered through his body, and he pushed the thought from his mind. He was going to chalk it up to being cold, exhausted, and grumpy. That was all. That or he was losing his mind. It was probably that.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly at Seth as he locked the room behind him.

  “I really had no idea that was your room,” Seth said tentatively as they rode down to the first floor.

  “I know.”

  The moment the doors opened, Erik strode toward the check-in desk with Seth on his heels.

  “I’d like you to explain to me why you’ve double-booked a room,” he snapped as he slapped the keycard onto the desk. “Room 306, to be precise.”

  The woman—one he’d never seen before—blinked at him. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  “Erik J—Cobb.”

  “And you?” She glanced at Seth.