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Boone had stormed off with it; how had the radio gotten back where it was? Considering the perplexed expression on Junie’s face, she wondered the same thing.
I decided not to ask.
“Have you seen Boone?” I asked instead.
Junie’s face fell into an apologetic grimace. A good-looking man with dark brows and an eager expression standing beside the sleigh waved to her, and Junie gave him an impatient wave back as if telling him to wait.
“Sorry, no, and you probably won’t either. Not until after Christmas.”
I attempted to hide my disappointment. “Oh?”
Junie slipped her hands into a pair of thick, knitted gloves with white reindeer on the backs. They were the kind of gloves that folded open to allow her fingertips to poke out.
“Yeah, he sort of goes into hiding.”
Another grimace.
I glanced at the crowd. The only reason I’d been ready to brave another night of cold was the possibility of being with Boone again. No amount of submersion into a winter night would be worth the torturous cold in my bones that would follow. I might not have my notebook, but I could still type on my laptop.
If Boone wasn’t among the crowd, I’d be better off staying at the inn.
According to the rumors I’d heard, the pass down to the town below was being cleared. The road would be accessible enough for me to summon an Uber driver and make my way to the small airport in West Hills.
Tomorrow was Christmas, and I was leaving. But I didn’t want to go without seeing him one more time.
“Does he have a cell phone or some way I can call him? I really need to talk to him.”
The man by the sleigh waved Junie forward a little more exuberantly this time. I thought I recognized him as the inn’s chef, but I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t exactly gotten a good look at him. Just his amazing food.
Junie called for him to hang on. “I’ll be right there,” she said before hopping down from the sleigh.
She was a few inches shorter than I was, and tinges of pink touched her cheeks and nose.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but our policy is not to give out personal contact information to guests—and believe me, alotof women ask for his.”
I squirmed a little at that. I could well imagine women drooling over him.
Boone had told me I was the first woman he’d allowed himself to touch since he lost his wife. The thought made Junie’s remark even more striking.
Whatever expression was on my face drew out a sympathetic pout from Junie. She placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m really sorry,” the receptionist said. “I wish I could make an exception, but I can’t do that without getting his permission first.”
“I understand,” I said.
And I really did. I’d want the same discretion from one of the managers at work if a random person came in asking for my personal contact information.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” the chef called.
Others among the guests cheered and shouted their agreement, waving to Junie.
“Come on, Junie. Let’s go!” someone cried.
“I’m coming!” she replied, smiling while air puffed visibility from her mouth.
Excitement beamed in her eyes, rivaling the moonlight spearing down at us. To her credit, Junie didn’t abandon me immediately. She gripped me by the elbows.
“Are you sure you won’t come? It’s going to be amazing. Cold, but the fire combats that. We serve cocoa up there and everything.”
