Her Promise

Her Fear | Chapter One

Before a wolf warrior met a human that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of…

LEMON

“Lea, I appreciate you paying for this entire thing. I really do feel like this is a great opportunity to learn. But I’m not looking to meet people,” I complained to the best boss in the world. Azalea owned the inn and had given me the opportunity to manage it. Now that she had kids, she didn’t want to be driving up to the inn so often. She offered to send me to this conference for everything in the hospitality industry. There were vendors and service providers for everything you could ever need as a business owner and classes and lectures pertaining to everything from tiny little bed and breakfasts to giant hotel chains.

“Lemon, it’s called networking. It doesn’t hurt to have friends in other places. Plus, you have two whole nights to fill after the conference lets out for the day. Go out with some people, have a few drinks, and have some fun,” Azalea pushed.

I rolled my eyes and adjusted my bag over my shoulder as I walked down the bustling sidewalk toward the hotel housing the conference. I was not fortunate enough to stay in the same hotel, but it was only a few blocks away. “Or, I could go back to the hotel room, organize any notes I take during the day, and get ready to come back to the inn with lots of great ideas.”

Azalea laughed. “I am sure the old man will be waiting with open arms for those.” The old man was like a father to Azalea. She purchased the inn with the help of her husband, or as she called him, ‘mate,’ and then they set the old man up to live as he pleased. He had run the inn for years before Azalea showed up on his doorstep. He still liked to occasionally come around and grumble about everything we did. “Seriously, Lemon, you’re so young. It’s okay to get out and have some fun. I remember the teenager always racing late into the lobby because you had been having fun.”

“I have fun when you bring my girl to me for a few days,” I argued.

“My thirteen-year-old daughter does not count,” she deadpanned.

I sighed. I didn’t want to be still the wildly out-of-control teenager I had been. I had flirted so hard with Azalea’s now husband and been devastated, and maybe a little jealous, when he didn’t spare me more than a polite smile. I was smarter now. More mature. I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. “I’m about to walk in,” I said, stopping on the steps to the building. “The first panel I’d like to see starts in a half hour, and I thought I would look around the vendors beforehand.”

“Don’t work too hard,” she said.

“You literally sent me here for work,” I scoffed.

“No, I sent you because I knew you would get a lot out of it. And I hoped you make some friends or meet a cute hotel owner,” she laughed.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” I accused.

“No,” she said. “But I might want to get someone in your bed. Have fun!” She hung up the phone before I could scold her.

I pushed my phone into my pocket and looked at the building. People were coming in and out, many of them carrying cups of coffee in their hands. I was too wired to have coffee this morning. I’d never traveled outside our gloomy little town, and here I was in the big city, trying to blend in.

With a deep breath, I climbed the rest of the steps and pushed open the door. Following the signs, I made my way to the giant room full of vendors, ready to see what the world had to offer our tiny inn.

-

I sat in the conference room, watching the presenters set up the equipment on the small stage. I choose a seat a few rows back and right inside from the aisle. Close but not too eager. The room was filling up fast for the discussion on meal offerings for boutique-style accommodations. I wasn’t entirely sure if it applied to the inn, but I had an hour to fill.

“Everyone, please take your seats; we’ll begin in just a minute,” someone said from the center of the stage. They dimmed the lights, and a spotlight illuminated the stage. I realized almost all the seats were filled in the room as I shoved my phone into my bag now full of brochures and business cards. There were a handful of empty seats scattered around, including the one to my right that bordered the aisle. I stuck my bag between my feet and settled back, ready to listen and learn something.

The talk began, and I quickly realized there wasn’t much in it for me. I looked over my shoulder at the door and wondered if I could escape without disrupting anything. The door creaked open, and multiple people looked back as a well-dressed man stepped inside. I turned back around quickly. Squeaky door meant no escape.

Confident footsteps sounded down the aisle then a body slid into the chair next to mine. I looked over at the man who had just entered the room late. He was attractive, very attractive. He gave me a half smile and a nod, making my cheeks flame. I looked forward quickly, pretending to listen to the presentation.

“This guy is full of s**t,” he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

Caught off guard, I looked back at him. “Excuse me?” I hissed.

He motioned toward the stage. “I know for a fact he’s never overseen a kitchen staff that serves less than 500 a day. Boutique, my ass,” he smirked.

“Okay,” I said, unsure. The man was going on about the eccentricities of catering to groups of ten or fewer.

“Sorry, I was forced to be here. You didn’t look like you were having much fun, either. Thought it might be nice to commiserate with someone,” he apologized. “Bentley McArthur,” he said, holding up his hand.

“Lemon Simpson,” I shook his hand with a small smile. “And you’re right; I’m not having much fun in this particular presentation.”

“Is your name really Lemon? Like the fruit?” he chuckled.

“Yes,” I scowled.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” he added quickly.

“I’ll try not to take any.” I rolled my eyes, moving my gaze back to the front. Bentley sat quietly next to me without saying a word for the rest of the discussion. When the lights came back up, I gathered my bag and stood. Bentley stood as well, stopping my exit.

“Lemon, I truly didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “Please let me apologize.”

“Oh, that’s alright. No offense taken,” I tried to wave him off.

“Your stiff posture tells me otherwise,” he chuckled. The sound was low and not unpleasant. “Look, I would love an excuse to get out of dinner with business associates. If I were to take a new colleague out instead, I’d be able to stem my father’s wrath and make up for my rudeness.”

“Are you asking me to dinner?” I clarified.

“Yes,” he smiled. It was a practiced smile, one that was meant to be charming and woo people to what he wanted from them. But it was still a good-looking smile. My phone chimed in my bag.

“Just a second,” I said, sticking my hand in to fetch it. I pulled it out, and my eyes went wide with the message on the screen from Azalea, asking if I had found someone to bring back to my room for the night. She was spending too much time with Amy, and it was showing.

“You know what? Sure,” I said, shoving my phone back into my bag.

“Sure?” he repeated.

“Yea, why not? I’m all alone in this place. Might as well enjoy someone’s company,” I nodded. He pulled a card from his pocket and held it out to me.

“I have a few more hands to shake this afternoon. I’ll be in the bar tonight by 6. I’ll be waiting,” he said as I took the card. He retreated a step before turning and smoothly strolling from the room. I slipped his card between my fingers as I watched him leave. I hope you’re happy, Lea. I’ve got a date.

-

I clutched my bag over my shoulder as I approached the bar. I scanned the demure room for Bentley, feeling less sure about this than I was earlier. I sat near the end and was quickly greeted by a bartender. I ordered a glass of red, unsure when to expect Bentley. I arrived right on time, but there was the possibility of him being late.

I sipped my wine, wondering if I should just go back to my hotel and stick to my original plan. I felt out of place in the fancy bar. I pushed boys from my mind when I left high school. And for a good reason. I wasn’t the best person back then, and the drama of relationships in a small town definitely fed into that.

I had almost finished my glass of wine and made up my mind to go back to my hotel. It wasn’t like I’d ever see Bentley again. Someone tapped on my shoulder, and I turned to see the man of the hour with an easy smile on his face. “Sorry about the wait,” he said.

“No problem,” I nodded.

“Shall we?” he tilted his head. I slid off the stool, leaving my glass on the bar and grabbing my bag. Bentley led us to the restaurant attached to the bar. I swallowed hard, trying to untalk myself out of leaving.

-

“Wait, so you actually own the McArthur Hotels? Like all of them? Like the one we are sitting in right now?” I gasped in surprise. I hadn’t connected the dots when he introduced himself. The McArthur Hotel family was one of the sponsors of the conference.

“I thought it was obvious on the card. My father actually owns everything, but the empire shifts to me in a few years,” he laughed.

“I didn’t look at the card,” I admitted. I barely talked myself into coming to dinner. I knew I wouldn’t talk myself into calling him.

“Well, that stings,” he laughed again. “I even gave you my personal number, not my work number.”

“You have two cell phone numbers?” He just nodded as I stared back in amazement. We were two entirely different species of humans, let alone places within the same industry.

“Tell me more about Blue Moon, was it?” he pressed

“You really wouldn’t find it interesting. It’s nothing compared to a McArthur Hotel,” I laughed nervously. “Plus, I just manage things.”

“Not every traveler wants to stay in giant luxury hotels,” he noted. “There is nothing wrong with small operations. Or managing them.”

“No, I guess not,” I agreed. “But trust me. My stuffy little small-town inn is nothing compared to all this.”

-

Bentley and I moved our conversation to other topics. He wasn’t hard to talk to, but it was painfully clear how different we were. We talked well past the time it took us to eat, and I only realized it when the staff came over to tell us they needed to close up.

“Oh my gosh, I need to get back and sleep! I didn’t mean to keep you here all night,” I apologized.

“I have no complaints about your company tonight,” he smirked. We left the restaurant and moved toward the lobby. When he invited me to his room, I knew I had to shut things down.

“Tonight was lovely, really. Thank you for taking me to dinner. But I think this ends here, Bentley,” I told him honestly.

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “It doesn’t have to,” he said. He acted as if there was no difference between him in his custom-tailored suit and my department store pencil skirt and blouse.

I shook my head. “I manage a thirty-room inn smack dab in the middle of a sleepy little town. You own hotel chains. We just aren’t the right fit.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed his cheek before I turned and strolled out of the hotel.

Azalea was right. Sharing the evening with someone was nice, but I wasn’t about to slip into my old ways. I wasn’t going to live on the whims of a guy. I was determined to prove myself to her and erase all memory of the erratic teenager I used to be.