Without a Hitch(31)

“I’m not fishing, Angie. You know this. Perhaps we should try a male assistant again.”

Her laughter lifts some of the weight that’s settled in my chest. “Not that it will stop them.

Remember the last two men who applied for this job?”

“How could I forget? Reggie asked me to marry him in his second week, and Jordan tried to punch me.”

“Yes.” She giggles. “Jordan couldn’t quite handle being bossed around in the charming way you have. And Reggie? Well, that boy will make some man very happy someday.”

“No doubt. He would have been great.” I sigh because he truly had the makings of a perfect assistant.

“You know what the problem is, don’t you?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.” I don’t bother taming my grin.

“You’re sickeningly handsome, wealthy, and have a heart of gold when you allow people to see it.

You’re what we call in my book club a cinnamon roll.”

I arch a brow with a full-blown smile. “A cinnamon roll? Explain. Please. I’m intrigued.”

“Yes. A cinnamon roll. You’re crusty and a bit rough on the outside, but all ooey and gooey sweetness on the inside.”

My mouth drops open in horrified amusement. “I am not ooey and gooey, Mrs. Moore. And just what types of books are you reading in this book club of yours?”

“The good kind.” She winks. “Now, what had your knickers in a knot earlier?”

She might be one of the few people in my life that can make me smile like this.

“There hasn’t been a new blog post in almost a week.”

“Ah, yes. The Love Lobby.”

I narrow my eyes at her goading. “Love in the Lobby, Angie. She always posts on Monday mornings, and she didn’t post this week. It’s Thursday.”

“I’m aware of what day it is, Lochlan.”

“Have we found out who is behind this rubbish?” I can’t ignore the needling at the base of my spine that worries this is another attack from Christine.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t believe it’s rubbish. Just because they’re anonymous posts doesn’t mean they haven’t done their research.”

“I know. She’s taking a human approach to dragging these hotels. The ones who pass her test have an overly romantic element to them. The waitress that worked a wedding. The bartender at the bachelorette party. She’s getting to know the staff at each one. Know them enough that they confide in her. She’s been to some of the best hotels in the world, yet she hasn’t been to one of mine, and I want to know why,” I growl, flattening my tie and pulling down my vest to compose myself.

“They’re only dragging the hotels that deserve to be called out for poor behavior. Think about it, Lochlan. The Roper in Boston? The Montlake in The Village? How about The Dorrety in San Francisco?”

My mind wanders to Pepper and The Dorrety again. The blog author couldn’t have known how close to home she hit with her post about one-night stands.

Could she? Paranoia creeps into my gut.

Angie flashes an expression of concern but continues. “You were there recently and came home complaining about the standards you witnessed. But you’re right. The ones who get glowing reviews are the ones who cater to weddings, and you don’t allow weddings at your hotels. Perhaps your mystery author is a wedding planner. That would explain why they have not visited your hotels.”

A fantastical dreamer. Fucking awesome.

“She hasn’t visited yet, Angie. But I have thousands of employees. It would only take her speaking to one bad apple to tarnish my reputation.”

“You’re known in this industry for your standards and how you take care of your employees. Even if you do hide behind a gruff exterior to keep them at bay, you offer some of the highest wages, and don’t forget the incentive plans, bonuses, and benefit opportunities you supply each and every employee.” She scans my face. “Are you upset that they haven’t found fault with your hotel or that you’re being left out on purpose?”

She knows me too well.

“Of course, I’m not worried about either of those things. I just want to make certain that however she’s getting her information, it’s accurate and substantiated.”

“You know the hotels they’ve featured, Lochlan. Do you believe anything they’ve said to be untrue?”

“No,” I concede. “But it’s an attack on my industry. I must be vigilant in protecting my legacy.”

Angie stands, then pats my shoulder. “Your legacy is in fine hands, Lochlan. I’m sure your mystery blogger will have a new post for you soon. Until then, perhaps you can focus on some people that actually add value to your life.”

I groan because I fucking hate the sound of that. “What now?”

“Well, your parents want to know if they’ll be seeing you at the Foundry wedding…”

“No.”

“Lochlan. Your parents have been friends with the Foundrys for years. You went to school with their daughter.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll let them know.”

“What else?” I can see her wheels turning.

“Well, Mr. Grant called the office because you haven’t returned his call yet. Your friends never call the office so I’m assuming you’re avoiding him for some reason?”