Page 26 of Always Almost You

The woman’s gaze flicked from Lauren to the pajamas and back again.

“They’ll make someone’s Christmas,” Lauren added, unable to stop the hopeful thought from slipping through.

The clerk hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. That’ll be fine.”

“Would you like me to bring you the receipt afterward?” Lauren asked. “To prove I paid for them?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. “Do you need a bag?”

“Yes, please.”

“Under the register. Take whatever size bag you want.”

Lauren thanked her and hurried to the front desk. No one was in line to check out. Within five minutes, her bill was settled, and she was headed to her room.

Pumpkin was still asleep when Lauren returned. She placed the new dog pajamas into the bag from the shop, then picked up the envelope addressed to Mike. After a moment’s thought, she added a few more words to the front:

+ Pumpkin’s friend

She stared at it. For a fleeting second, she considered reopening the letter yet again and revising her note. She stopped herself. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know this man.

Lauren slipped the envelope into the bag with the pajamas. She would leave it at Mike’s door on their way out. She crossed to the bed and roused her sleeping puppy. “Rise and shine, sweet girl,” she whispered.

Pumpkin blinked up at her, tail thumping lazily against the pillow.

Lauren slipped her into her tiny pair of red dog pajamas. Pumpkin waited as Lauren smoothed the fabric into place.

“There,” Lauren said. “Let’s go spread a little Christmas cheer.” Together, they stepped into the hallway.

Mike switched off the hairdryer and pressed his hand against the leg of his jeans, hanging from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. They were still damp. The coffee spill from the evening before hadn’t dried, and he’d spent the last twenty minutes attempting to rectify that with the hairdryer. The complimentary ironing board and iron were nowhere to be found.

He checked his watch. 7:25 a.m. He didn’t want to risk missing her. This would have to do. He stepped into the jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. He’d been awake for hours, lying in bed, replaying every moment with Lauren and chastising himself for not asking for her phone number.

He’d finally settled on a plan. He’d return Pumpkin’s bowl and give Lauren a note with his name and phone number.

He knew her room was somewhere down the hall on the opposite side, but he didn’t know which one was hers. Stalking her in the corridor seemed creepy. He’d decided to stake out the lobby with the bowl in hand. It wasn’t elegant, but it was something.

He’d hung the Do Not Disturb sign on his door when he’d taken in the stray. With luck, the new golden companion inside wouldn’t protest being left alone for a short while. The pup had already eaten the remainder of the kibble Lauren had provided. They’d slipped out the patio door at dawn for a quick trip to the pet relief area.

The dog now sat at Mike’s feet, tracking his every movement.

Mike dropped to one knee and placed his hands on the pooch’s broad shoulders. “You’ve got those expressive golden retriever eyebrows, don’t you, buddy?” he said. “You notice everything.”

The pup blinked.

“And you’re worried.”

Those golden brows lifted slightly.

“Do you remember your friend Pumpkin? And her mom? The easy-on-the-eyes brunette who lent us this bowl and gave us kibble?”

The stray studied him.

“I want to return the bowl and say thank you,” Mike continued. “The hotel doesn’t know you’re here, and it’s probably best to keep it that way. I’m going to head to the lobby and see if I can find her. I might be gone a little while. Is that okay?”

The pup looked away, then back at him.

Mike gently cupped the dog’s muzzle and turned his face so they were eye to eye.