As he headed down the staff-only passage to find the way upstairs, she woke the computer and logged on with her administrator password. By the time he got back, she’d checked Jessalyn’s email and browser history for any information about where the woman might have gone, with no luck, and called up the booking program. “Anything?” she asked.
“Nothing. There’s milk in the fridge, a few dirty dishes in the sink, and laundry in the hamper. It doesn’t look like she expected to be away.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe one of the guests will have seen or heard something. We’ve got three occupied cottages: Annie and Michael Prince are in Veuve Clicquot, Pauline Morton and Jason Butcher are in Krug, Jude Leith and Finn Halliday are in Dom Perignon. Pol Roger is closed for plumbing issues, Bollinger and Gallimard haven’t been cleaned—” She scrolled down the screen— “Oh, and nor has Taittinger, or Pommery… or Moet & Chandon. Why is the cleaning so far behind? Half the cottages shouldn’t be sitting dirty…” Crap. The cleaning service ought to have been brought in as soon as each cottage was vacated; why hadn’t that happened? She’d need to call them first thing in the morning. “It, uh, looks like only Cristal is available.”
“We can make it work.” Eamonn shrugged. “I can sleep anywhere — bonus if it’s soft and there’s a pillow, but I’ve slept on floors and in the backs of vans.”
“And in top hotels with actual champagne flowing like water,” Nell pointed out.
“True.”
“If I’m reading this right, Cristal should have a daybed as well as a king. I know you said you’re fine sleeping anywhere, but I’m betting you’d rather not sleep on the floor if there’s a choice, and I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
The cottages at Champagne Cascades were spread out in the woods along the river for as much romantic privacy as possible, with neat gravel paths winding through the trees and ferns and salal bushes leading to each one. Although none of the cabins were far from the main area where the office building and the main dining room and laundry were located, the artful illusion of distance and privacy seemed very real in the rainy night, even with the strings of white fairy lights along the paths.
After a quick search, Nell found a couple of heavy-duty flashlights in a box in the office and handed one to Eamonn. “These will help. There are supposed to be umbrellas, too, but I have no idea where, so we’ll just have to get wet. Let’s go.”
“Which one is ours?” he asked, looking at the pouring rain and the faintly twinkling strands of lights leading off between the trees.
She locked the office behind her and turned. “Far end,” she told him, pointing to the right. “I’ve got a copy of the site map in my bag, just in case, but I’m pretty sure it’s the last cabin to the north.”
“Can we drive closer?” He unlocked his truck and reached to open the passenger door for her.
“No such luck,” she said. “Guest parking is on the south side, and the staff spots are behind the office. Just leave your truck under the portico for the night and we’ll move it in the morning.”
“All right.” He opened the door to the crew cab’s second row instead, handed Nell her bag, then grabbed his backpack. “We’re going to get soaked. Want to run?”
“On gravel paths, in the rain, in the dark. Great idea.” Nell laughed. “But sure. Why not?” She waited for him to lock his truck, then took off, her bag bouncing on her shoulder, getting wetter in the rain with every step she took. She didn’t think he’d meant it as a race, but his footsteps close behind her triggered a competitive burst of speed and she pulled ahead for a moment before he caught on and upped his pace. With his longer legs, he caught up with her quickly, though she thought — hoped? — he had to put more effort into it than he might have expected. She pushed herself for more speed and he matched her, their flashlight beams swinging wildly. Then one of her feet skidded on a slick patch of gravel and she instinctively braced herself to roll and break her fall safely.
“Hey,” he said, and he grabbed her just in time, saving her from a nasty tumble. “You okay?” He steadied her back onto her feet, his hands still curled protectively around her upper arms. She could feel the heat of his palms through her wet shirt.
“Thanks.” He stood there, ignoring the rain, looking down with admiring eyes at the front of her shirt, which had become rather transparent. When he didn’t move, didn’t let go, she snapped, “Okay, I’m not falling anymore. Hands off.”
He dropped his hands and marched away from her down the path, reaching the end of it before he remembered that she had the key and he couldn’t get in without her. A carved wooden sign over the door read Cristal. “Are you coming?”
Slowly, almost grudgingly, she caught up with him. They were both soaked through at this point and speed didn’t seem to matter anymore. Sharing a cottage is a bad idea if he’s going to look at me like that. Separate beds were beside the point. But they couldn’t stand outside in the rain all night, so she got the key out of her pocket and closed the distance between them.
A light by the door came on automatically as they stepped inside, and Nell smiled for the clever idea — a motion sensor light would always make sure that guests were greeted with a friendly glow, no matter what time it was. No fumbling around for a light switch in an unknown position or trying to find a lamp. The door light was enough to show her where the main light switches were, and she
