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And now a pair of guests were claimingnotto be married when the system showed that they were? When her own ID showed that she was?
It made no sense.
Had Boone messed with the system somehow? I wasn’t sure he knew how to. But he definitely hadn’t been happy when he’d found Grace in his room last night.
I should have given him a heads up, that was true. But he would have told me no, and I couldn’t just let Grace leave. Something had told me she needed my help. She’d looked way too sad and desperate for me to let her walk out the door with nowhere else to go.
In this weather?
Lacie looked way too thrown off about this. And I could think of only one other reason everything would be so upside down right now.
The radio.
I snatched the key to room 11, but before I veered down the hall to give Grace the good news, I took a side rail to the living room. Lobby. Whatever we called it these days.
My brain still called it the living room, since that was what it had been when I’d been a kid.
The radio had always occupied that spot on that table. We’d gathered in here for late-night talks with Grandma and Grandpa, for game nights, and snuggling with mugs of cocoa. And there it had always sat. Silently. A quiet addition to the room, but one that had always fascinated me.
I stared at the radio now. Feeling silly, I bent low and pressed my ear, but I heard nothing.
“Just what are you up to?” I whispered.
And the radio seemed to say,If you only knew.
GRACE
Boone Harper should wearcaution tape.
The minute he’d left my room—hisroom—last night, my thoughts went berserk. The monkeys were tapdancing now, running amok up and down trees and screeching like lovesick squirrels.
I couldn’t go to sleep, not after that. Not with the images mongering in my brain.
Because every time I closed my eyes, there he was. I pictured him in all his shirtless glory, wearing a kilt as he rode a stallion into battle. Ears pointed as was typical of his elven people, muscles rippling as he wielded a sword, he struck down his enemy and rescued the fair, captive princess who’d captivated him with a single sweet melody when they’d met earlier in the woods.
It was all coming together.
My muse didn’t care that it was tired asleep or that I’d been torn from a dream—because reality?
Wassomuch better.
Hello, abs. Every single one of them was making an appearance in my story.
I sat on the edge of the bed and ignored my laptop, diving for my notebook instead. There was something to be said about writing by hand that stirred my creativity. I was determined to recreate with words the exact shading of the days’ growth on Boone’s formidable jawline, a look that could cut just as sharply as his blade.
Now, that was a jawline.
And then there was the molten chocolate color of his espresso eyes, which were framed by dark lashes. But I couldn’t use the word “espresso.” They didn’t have those in my fantasy world.
Could men’s eyes beframedby dark lashes? Would “bordered” be better?
Ugh. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this.
I shook my head and inhaled. Boone had made my mouth water as though sugary, homemade icing were melting on my tongue.
Yeah. That was a good one.
I leveled my pen against the paper, but for some reason, it wouldn’t move.
