Sheila Roberts - The Lodge on Holly Road

But then he chided himself for being stupid. Yeah, Missy was cute, but so what? He was in love with Holland, and he wasn’t some low-life scum who hit on other women when he was about to become engaged, so it was no big deal. That resolved, he went to his room.

Oh, man, Holland was going to love this. The room had it all—antique furniture but a state-of-the-art TV and DVD player, a small fridge for his champagne, a view of the mountains out the window, a snowy-white comforter on the king-size bed and an electric fireplace. Oh, yeah. This was going to be romance to the max. He could picture Holland and him in that big bed going at it and then cuddling together, watching the flames. If only Holland had come up tonight.

Well, she’d be here tomorrow, and that would come soon enough. Meanwhile, what was he going to do with himself? He went to the window and looked out. The snowy scene beckoned him. What the hey, might as well go check out the town, find something to eat.

He heard whoops coming from 205 as he walked past and for a moment wondered what Missy and her kids were going to do now.

Never mind. He wasn’t up here to hang out with Missy Monroe and her kids. He was here for a romantic getaway with his girlfriend.

Who hadn’t arrived yet. With a sigh, he walked down the hall.

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