Counterfeit Cupid (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Cupid #2)(4)

“You’re late.” Stuart made a sour face and touched the pile of blank keycards to neaten them.

“Don’t start, Stuart.” I flashed him a smile, trying to get him to smile back. “I’m ten minutes early.”

It didn’t work. Stuart was always so serious.

He took a clipboard from where it hung on a hook under the counter. “I have a few things.”

“Okay. Go for it.” I folded my hands in front of my waist and gave him my full attention.

There was no use messing with Stuart before he left. If he didn’t think I was taking things seriously, he’d stay for an hour watching me.

It’s important to point out that Stuart was not my manager. He only worked the shift before mine.

He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, then must have decided I was ready to listen. “Don’t put anyone in room 317 tonight. I had to move the guests who were in it last night.”

“What happened?”

“The guests next door in 319 are on their honeymoon. There were…noise complaints. It’s best to just give them a buffer unless a busload of people without reservations shows up.” Stuart cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. He was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “Anyway. There’s a problem with the jacuzzi. Maintenance is working on it.”

I frowned. People hated when the jacuzzi was out. “How long has he been working on it? Does he think it’ll be done tonight?”

“I couldn’t say. It was like that when I came in this morning.” He cleared his throat again and ran his finger over the page on the clipboard. “Oh. And Chet’s wife went into labor, so you’ll have to work a double shift or find someone to cover his shift tonight.” He bent, hung the clipboard on its hook, straightened, and gave me a quick, precisely measured smile. “Well, that’s it, then. Have a good evening. I’m off to a cheese tasting.” He turned and disappeared into the back room to clock out.

I blinked. A double shift? What the hell? Nobody was going to come in and cover the night shift at the last minute. I’d have called the manager, but Chet was the manager. I might as well suck it up. For the next sixteen hours, I was running the front desk.

Fortunately, we weren’t busy. I was sure I’d be fine.

Val would have had a meltdown and called Chet, regardless of how close together his wife’s contractions were. I rolled with it. It wasn’t the first double shift I’d picked up at the last minute, and likely wouldn’t be the last. I could always nap in the back when nothing was going on.

Guests loved the opportunity to use that stupid bell on the desk.

I checked the day’s printout on the second page of Stuart’s clipboard. Since it was the middle of the week, I only had a few guests checking in, and everyone checking out was gone. With any luck, everyone would be tucked into their rooms by nine. Once the restaurant closed at eleven, I’d have the whole night mostly to myself.

The honeymoon couple Stuart had told me about came through the lobby shortly after I settled in for my shift. When the elevator doors opened, I stopped leaning against the counter and stood straighter. We weren’t supposed to lean. I needn’t have bothered. They barely glanced in my direction on their way to the restaurant. The wife giggled at something her new husband said, he bent to kiss her, and they disappeared through the frosted glass doors of Caffrey’s Steak House.

I rested my elbows on the counter and stared out the window. It was going to be a long night.

Before long, an older woman in a cream skirt and jacket emerged from the elevator.

She placed her fingertips on the counter and smiled at me. Her crimson lipstick was smeared at one corner and a little was on her teeth. “I have reservations downtown. Would you be a dear and call me a cab? I’m in a hurry.”

“Of course.” I smiled back, wondering who she was meeting, why she was in town, and whether I should tell her to fix her lipstick.

After I took down all her information, I dialed the cab company and gave them her name—Jill—our address, and where she was going.

“The River Rock? Is this Annie?” The man on the other end of the call had a cheerful, friendly voice. He was the biggest reason I usually chose that particular company.

“How are you, Sean? Is Amy’s cold better?” I flicked my gaze to the lady in front of me. She shifted from foot to foot, and her red lips had pressed together in a thin slash.

“Much better. Thanks for asking.”

I held up a finger to my guest, letting her know it would only be a minute. “I’m glad to hear it. How long till the cab gets here, Sean?”

“For you, three minutes. I’ve got someone up the street.”

“You’re a rockstar. Thanks, Sean.” I hung up and grabbed a box of tissues from under the counter to put in front of her. “He said it will be about three minutes.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Well. That’s quick.”

I pushed the tissues toward her. “Ma’am, your lipstick’s a little smudged.” I could not, in good conscience, let her go out in that condition. She might be going to a business meeting, but she also might be going to meet the love of her life. Maybe there was an old-people’s version of Tinder. What if she’d met someone online and was going to meet him for the first time tonight? No. The smudged lipstick was not going to be my fault.