Page 2 of A Veteran’s Obsession

I let it ring in the background as I open my email. Bold subject lines jump out at me, so startling that I suck in a breath.

I’ll fuck you, I like fat chicks

My vision blurs, and I blink away tears. The receptionist is saying something, but over the ringing of the phone and the shock of the subject lines, it’s hard to concentrate.

I scroll past hundreds of emails, cursing myself for putting my email address on my website. I took it down last night, but some asshole must have shared it.

Finally, I find the email from Emerald Heart Resort and hold it up to the receptionist.

The phone rings again, and she looks at it uncertainly.

“Did you want to take that?”

“No.” I try to smile, but I’m all out of smiles today.

Her face scrunches up as she reads my email. “I’m sorry, that promotion finished last month. But we do have a room available. You’ll just have to pay full price.”

I stare at the email with the confirmation from the resort. “But it let me book it.”

She winces. “I don’t think that was a genuine reservation site. We have no record of your reservation or payment in the system. There are scams going around, and we always recommend customers book directly with us.”

She looks genuinely pained to tell me this, and I’m genuinely pained to hear it. Not only has the internet ruined my life, but it’s also ruining my escape plan.

“Do you want me to book that room for you?”

That room payment was the last of my rainy day fund, and I’ve given it to scammers. I didn’t even use a credit card, and I’m not sure if the bank will refund it. If they do, it won’t happen quickly. I can’t afford to stay here at full price. I’m going to have to leave and drive home—with a map—where the entire town knows who I am, knows what happened, and has seen the video of my humiliation. It’s lucky I’m wearing sunglasses, so she doesn’t see the tears welling in my eyes.

“No,” I say. “I’ll um…” A man comes through a door behind the reception desk, and all thoughts flee my mind. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored suit that hugs his bulky frame. He tugs his cuffs down as he steps up to the reception desk.

“Is everything okay here?” His voice is deep, gravelly, and commanding. The receptionist sits up taller, and the entire lobby goes quiet. My gaze travels up his torso where his white shirt is unbuttoned at the top, dark hair curling over the top of his shirt. His square jaw is coated in rough stubble, his dark hair peppered with silver, and his eyes, sea green, are staring at my lips. I swallow hard. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and clearly the owner or the manager. Definitely the man in charge, which means he’s about to kick me out because I can’t afford to stay here without a discount. He must have an instinct for trouble, or he wouldn’t have shown up so quickly. Now I’ll be lucky to leave without a scene.

My phone pings with another message and rings again, which reminds me why I’m here and that I don’t want a scene.

The man and the receptionist both stare at my phone, no doubt wondering why I don’t answer it. I hold the power button down and watch the screen go blank. The silence is a relief, and I slip it into my purse.

“I was just leaving.”

The man’s gaze flickers to my eyes, and I’m glad they’re hidden under my glasses, because I can’t stop staring at him.

“We’ll honor your reservation.”

He says it quietly and calmly. He doesn’t want a scene either.

The receptionist half-turns to him. “But it’s not a real reservation.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I said, we’ll honor it. Miss Bennet,” he emphasizes the name as if he knows it’s fake, “made a reservation in good faith. We’ll honor the reservation and forgo the remaining payment as an apology for her troubles.”

My troubles. Oh shit. He’s seen the video, which means the man-God in front of me—because surely no human could be this beautiful—already knows I’m unlovable.

The receptionist taps some keys, and the smile returns to her face. “We’ll put you in room 304.”

Before I can protest, the man hands me a key fob. When I take it, our fingers brush. I glance at his hand touching mine, and from under the cuff of his sleeve there’s a flash of dark ink. He holds onto it a little too long, and his penetrating gaze goes right through my sunglasses and heats me up from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and lots of interesting places in between.

“Enjoy your stay with us, Miss Bennet.”

Then he disappears into the room from which he came, leaving the vague scent of coffee and musk behind him. I glance around, and the entire lobby is watching. So much for not making a scene.

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